After a setup of hot chocolate, plush blankets, and an endless amount of pillows in one of the meeting rooms of the arena, I didn't have it in me any longer to fight the pulsating, thrumming attraction I had to Connor Holden.

I made it a total of an hour before my lips were on his with a crushing force that caused him to stumble backward, my hands raking through his hair. After a half-hour of making out like a couple of hormone-crazed teenagers, I followed him out to the parking lot and into his car without any complaints.

Is this decision completely irrational? Definitely. It's not my smartest life choice, considering I'm in no place to make any sort of commitment to anyone, but my heart is still pounding with unrelenting lust at the way Connor's lips are wet and swollen. It's pitch black on the highway aside from a couple of street lights lining the sides, and if I thought the front of Connor's face was hot? His side profile is a different story.

Sculpted jawline, full lips, a gold chain peeking beneath the zipper of his sweater... The man is agonizingly gorgeous.

And despite the tiny twinge of guilt I feel for doing this, I keep reminding myself that Connor knew what he was signing up for. He's aware I'm not ready to be in a relationship, and he wouldn't be taking me to his place for the first time after I told him I wanted to strictly fuck if he were under any other impression.

At least, I hope not.

I hardly notice the parking garage we pull into in the middle of downtown Los Angeles. It's swanky and private, very Connor Holden, but I only have one goal in mind, and it's not to inspect the man's living arrangements.

"I'm getting the door for you," he reminds me as soon as he puts the car in park. My knee bounces as I wait for him to round the vehicle, and when he tugs it open, I scramble out, crashing my lips to his again.

Ever since yesterday when he was quite literally knuckle deep inside me, my body has been protesting against going cold turkey. It's been too long since his hands have been on me. Twenty-four hours feels like an eternity.

Connor must feel the same because the guttural groan that vibrates against my lips has me spiraling.

He backs me up against the brick wall of the parking garage, landing with a thud, but the quick, shooting pain is hardly felt when it's followed by his teeth nipping at my lower lip and his hands gliding up my waist. 

"Fuck, I need to get you inside," he pants.

My want for him is all-consuming. It's a fire racing through my veins, an addiction I'm in desperate need of a fix for.

Kissing him feels like the first breath of fresh air I've taken in a long, long time.

Connor lifts me into his arms and punches in a code next to the door, which leads us into an elevator. As we make the ascent to his place, he doesn't stop teasing me. His fingers are playing with my thong that's peeking out the top of my jeans, giving it a snap every few seconds or so. His eyes don't leave mine, growing darker by the second.

"You're sure about this?" I'm breathless from our rounds of kissing, unable to help the tug on my lips at my brown foundation staining the sides of his mouth. "Absolutely positive?"

His eyes dart down to my lips before meeting my eyes again. "I've never been more certain of anything else in my entire life."

"Even if it means I don't catch feelings?"

That familiar, arrogant smile falls onto his face. I used to despise it, but now, he wouldn't be Connor without it. "Baby, when I'm finished with you tonight, you're going to be addicted."

Too late, my brain reminds me, but I quickly shove that thought to the back of my mind before I do something stupid like ask to go back home before my body is sated.

The door opens, and Connor places me back on my feet, his hands gripping my waist and his lips returning to mine. I catch brief glances of his sky-rise penthouse. Marble floors. Chandeliers. The typical bachelor pad for a hot-shot hockey player. I don't care about any of it as he tugs my sweater off and tosses it to the ground. My back accidentally hits the island, causing me to wince, but then his lips move to my neck, licking my most sensitive spot beneath my ear, and just like earlier, the pain is instantly forgotten.

"Sorry," he mutters, steering me towards what I'm assuming to be his bedroom. "Fuck, I can't get enough of you."

Hell. He needs to stop saying things like that before I combust right here in the damn hallway.

Stripping him of his sweater, I toss it aside before he pulls me into a bedroom three times the size of my new one at the townhome. The city skyline filters light into the darkness of the room, but Connor doesn't even bother turning on the light. His hands tighten on my hips, backing me up until the backs of my knees hit his mattress. I fall onto the feather-like comforter, propping myself up on my elbows with anticipation of what he'll do next.

My mouth practically waters at the sight in front of me.

Connor's body is crafted and perfected by hockey. The muscles in his abdomen shift with every movement he makes, and my eyes are trained on the hard planes of his chest, to the tiny line of hair beneath his navel leading to his—

"Take everything off," he says. The tone he uses is firm. Demanding. A man who knows exactly what he wants.

Now would be the perfect time to change my mind. I'm the photographer for his team, and if anyone finds out we slept together (again), I'll be fired on the spot. Not to mention that by agreeing to this, I'm full-heartedly leading him on. I don't care if he says he's fine with it. If his feelings are strong for me, this will only hurt him in the long run.

I'm incapable of changing.

But he doesn't understand that.

I'm having an out-of-body experience as I strip for him anyway, ignoring every red flag going off in my head. In seconds, I'm completely naked and bare for him, and to see that expression on his face right now?

Yeah, totally worth ignoring the red flags.

The man gazes at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It takes me back to that night in The Maldives when I never thought I'd feel like that ever again. With the scar striking my face, I struggle immensely with my self-confidence, but whenever I'm with him, I'm just...Aria again. I'm me.

And from the heat simmering in his gaze, the touches of moonlight highlighting how hard he's clenching his jaw, I feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

"I don't want gentle," I whisper, petrified of the thoughts racing through me. "I don't want emotions. I don't want tentative. I want to be fucked, Connor. Nothing more." For whatever reason, the sentence feels thick on my tongue.

"Wasn't planning on being gentle," he replies, but I don't miss the tremor in his jaw. "I planned on soaking my face in your cunt to start because it looks fucking delicious at the moment. Is that alright with you?"

Oh.

Well, wasn't expecting that.

And I certainly don't expect him to get down on his knees beside the bed and drag my hips to meet his mouth with one tug.

With my legs slung over his shoulders, he dips his head between my legs and devours. I told him not to be gentle, but Connor is a talented man at this. He's had enough practice. This particular skill requires him to be precise and controlled, so he delves his tongue into my pussy to gather the wetness before moving it to my clit, keeping his circular movements torturously slow.

Shamefully, my eyes roll back into my head as an otherworldly cry fills his bedroom.

He flicks my clit again and again before softly sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves. I'm more than confident that I could die and go to heaven just like this and be content with the life I've lived. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm already heading there since my body feels as if it's levitating off his damn bed.

"Connor," I moan. His tongue feels too good. Too right. My orgasm is close to ripping through me, but I withhold it for fear his ego will get bigger. He's not that good. There's no way I'm letting him know he can make me come in less than a minute just from his—

He slurps up my juices, dragging me from my thoughts before he dives back in, quickening the speed of his tongue. With one glance between my legs, my release knocks the breath from my lungs. His eyes hone in on my face as I fall apart from just his tongue, but he doesn't make a smart-mouthed comment. Instead, he continues to lick. Continues to suck. His eyes are so green they remind me of pine trees, and my hips buck from being so sensitive. I try to scurry away until his forearm pins my hips down to the bed, holding me immobile.

He drags his face away from between my thighs and arches a brow. "If you want this to be rough with no emotions, then you're going to be a good girl and take my tongue. Don't you dare fucking run from it."

Liquid heat blasts my skin, turning to molten lava from his dirty talk. But I allow him to continue even when the pleasure is too much. It barrels up my spine again, and before I know it, Aria from the past takes over.

I grip his curls with a tight fist and begin to ride his face, holding him between my legs as I do what I want with him. If he wants to play this game, I can be better at it, and the chuckle that vibrates against my clit leads me to assume he knows it, too.

Like a detonating bomb, I'm coming again from the feel of his tongue, face fucking his mouth until I'm a heap of utter jello on this bed.

Connor rises from the floor as if he didn't just give me the best head of my life, his lips and chin glistening as he undoes his belt and flings it to the floor. The silence thrumming between us is electrified as his eyes never leave mine.

"No emotions, right?" He asks, voice strained.

I nod, unable to think straight, let alone speak.

"Then I suggest you get on your hands and knees and turn around."

On shaking limbs, I do as instructed, hearing the sound of a zipper and a foil packet ripping open while I wait impatiently. He isn't touching me, but I can feel his body heat envelop me like a sweltering inferno when he steps closer.

"Arch."

If I wasn't dripping wet before, I sure as hell am now from a single word.

"You have no idea how long I've—" He releases a frustrated sigh as he rubs the tip of his cock against my entrance, gathering the wetness. "Your pussy is fucking perfect, Aria."

"Please," I beg.

Finally, with a gentle thrust, he stretches me in the most glorious, pleasurable way. Like the missing piece to a puzzle, I feel complete and utterly filled to the brim.

"Breathe," he instructs. "Almost there."

My eyes practically bulge out of my head. "Almost there?"

Even though I can't see him, I can just imagine the arrogant fucker's amused expression right now. "Did you forget how big my cock is, baby?"

No. That night has been ingrained in my head for years. I don't think I could forget him even if I tried. However, I didn't remember his dick being this big. Then again, I was drunk the last time we did this.

"You don't want gentle, right?" He asks.

"For fucks sake, Connor, please just—"

With one powerful thrust, he's fully hilted inside me. The pure fullness of him has me burying my face into the comforter, screaming out his name as he presses me down against the mattress and does as promised. He fucks me.

His hips meet my ass in possessive, brutal hits, lurching me forward on the bed. I tilt my head to the side to breathe, my cheek buried into the comforter, but I've never felt such pleasure. We shouldn't be doing this, and yet, I've never wanted anything more.

He pulls me up against his chest, never easing up the pounding of his skin against mine. With one hand, he grabs my bun and jerks my head to the side, latching his lips beneath my ear to hit my fucking spot.

Drool is running down my chin, and mascara and lipstick are probably smeared, but Connor doesn't make me feel dirty or ashamed. He makes me feel alive again. Powerful. Wanted.

"I'm going to fuck you all. night. long," he says through gritted teeth. "I've missed this way too fucking much to just be one and done, you hear me?"

There's no possible way I'm going to come for the third time, and yet my lower stomach coils with familiarity at the sound of his sexy, gravelly voice against my ear.

"Push whatever thoughts you have about going home tonight out the door. You're staying with me so I can worship this fucking body until it gives out. Fair enough?"

How could I say no to that while he's buried deep inside of me, promising me this racing surge of pleasure all night long? As if I'd ever say no to that? I don't believe there's a woman in this entire world who could refuse him.

"Okay," I gasp, whimpering when another orgasm shudders through me, rolling over my body like a damn tidal wave. My body grows limp in his arms as he continues to hold me against him, shouting when he eventually finds his release, too.

We crash land on the mattress with his weight blanketing me in the warmest heat. I'm entirely sated, smiling at the heartbeat between my thighs from how thoroughly fucked I am.

But then the mattress dips and that warm blanket of his body heat vanishes, exposing me to a rush of coldness. My first instinct is to tell him to get his ass back here. However, I shouldn't want him to continue lying on top of me.

No emotions, right?

He was smart to get up.

"Using the bathroom?" I mumble.

He chuckles, and my eyes shoot open when I hear the sound of another foil packet opening.

"The night is just getting started," he says in that sexy voice of his. "I'm not remotely finished with you yet."

Correction: Not only is my body utterly fucked? I think my heart is, too.

Author's Note:

I updated a few hours early because I have things to do in the morning!

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