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spine-buster · 5 years

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Alone, Together | Chapter 21 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: Y’all deserve this one. I’ll be at church cleansing my sins if you need me.

Briony never got to give out Valentine’s Day cards at school because she could never afford them. She’d get them from her fellow students, decorated with superheroes or puppies or whatever else was popular at the time, usually with a heart-shaped chocolate or a Hershey’s Kiss, but she was never able to give any out. That was why, given the opportunity, she went out and bought really corny Valentine’s Day cards, the fold up ones that came in packs of 30, wrote one to Morgan for each day of his road trip, and hid them in his suitcase for the 13-day tour of Montreal, New York, Colorado, Las Vegas, Arizona, and St. Louis. Bee was a bit bummed that she wasn’t able to spend time with Morgan on their first Valentine’s Day together, but there wasn’t exactly anything she could do about it.

Instead, she was focused on the training she was completing for her new job. The day after her interview, Mark Travers had called her back. “Can you come back to my office?” he had asked. Morgan was at morning practice, so she high-tailed it in an Uber. When she got there, he sat her down in the same chair she sat in for the interview. “What are your salary expectations?” “There will be performance bonuses if you accept and do well.” “We’re not going with the candidate from Montreal. I would love for you to be part of our team.” It was all very surreal, and of course, she accepted the job. She was a junior financial analyst at Scotiabank. Her hard work paid off in the best way possible. Yes, she had a boyfriend, the best boyfriend in the world – but now, she had a job. She had a career. She had everything she had ever wanted.

Morgan was, of course, over the moon when she told him. So over the moon, in fact, that the Leafs won their next two games against Anaheim and Ottawa. She was able to go to both games after her training, just a short walk to the ACC from Scotia Plaza. He asked so many questions and was so interested in everything she would be doing. He was like a little kid in a candy store. He wouldn’t shut up about it. He told his teammates. He told the wives and girlfriends (as if she hadn’t already). He told Mike Babcock because, well, he just happened to be listening at the time. He told the Uber Eats delivery man when he dropped off their food that night, a celebratory feast on Indian food. He’d tell a park bench if it listened.

But, like always, then he had to leave. A thirteen day road trip for the team. He cursed the fact that after all these big events, he always had to leave, and they could never properly celebrate. They couldn’t even properly celebrate their first Valentine’s Day, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. There wasn’t exactly anything any of the other wives or girlfriends could do about it, so instead of wallowing in self-pity, Alannah had organized a “Galentine’s Day” night over at hers and Zach’s place. The boys were facing the Vegas Golden Knights tonight, and the girls could at least watch the game together while eating junk food and sipping on mimosas and mocktails rather than spend the night alone.

Until then, Bee found herself with Aryne, who was apparently feeling particularly stir-crazy. There was a week of paid training before Bee assumed her full responsibilities, and in the time, Aryne made it her personal goal to meet with Bee everyday for lunch so they could check out places to eat in the financial district. Today, they were at the Cactus Club, an import from western Canada that just opened a few blocks north of the Scotia Plaza. Aryne had ordered them both a tuna poke bowl and non-alcoholic Valentine’s Day-themed drinks.

They had been talking for a while, discussing who was going to be at Alannah’s place that night and what time Aryne would pick Bee up, when suddenly a shrill voice was heard from across the restaurant screaming, “Ohmigod, Aryne is that you?!” Aryne and Bee both looked to their left, and Bee saw a beach blonde running over to them with a giant smile on her face.

“Oh Lord,” Aryne mused under her breath as she smiled at the woman making a beeline.

“Who’s that?” Bee asked, but it was too late. The woman had approached their table and Aryne was smiling politely at her.

“So nice to see you here!” the woman said, bending down and giving Aryne a hug, who didn’t bother getting up from her seat. “I can’t believe I ran into you here of all places. What are you doing here?”

“I’m having lunch with my friend,” Aryne said. Why else would she be in a restaurant with another person sitting across from her? “Bee, this is Sydney. Sydney this is Bee McTa--”

“So you’re Bee?” she said slyly, not bothering to offer her hand for a polite shake. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“From who?” Bee asked.

“From Instagram,” Sydney said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Bee got worried the second she mentioned it. She didn’t even know who this Sydney was – why did she knew who Bee was? What had she seen on Instagram that made her feel like she already knew who Bee was? “I just love that Chanel bag that Morgan got you.”

“What have you been up to, Sydney?” Aryne intervened the split second she saw Bee’s eyebrows furrow. “What brings you back to Toronto?”

“Well, I had my dress fitting at Kleinfeld today. Jessica had a working lunch so I thought I’d come to Cactus Club and see what the food’s like,” she explained. Bee had no idea who Jessica was and she wasn’t inclined in the slightest to ask.

“Jessica who? Mulroney?” Aryne asked.

“Of course, Aryne. Who else?” Sydney smiled. “Anyway, the second dress was already ordered in Southampton so we’re waiting for that to come in for alterations as well. Then there’s the veil and the flower wall and just, like, so many other things.”

“Should’ve eloped,” Aryne winked.

“Boomer wouldn’t want that,” she giggled, turning her attention back to Bee. “You must know my fiancé Matt? Or my father Boomer Esiason?”

Bee didn’t understand. Did Sydney just ‘my father’ her a la Meghan McCain? Was she just name-dropping people in the hopes that Bee would recognize who she was? Why would she want anyone to recognize her? Bee shook her head. “I’m sorry, I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“My fiancé is Matt Martin. He plays for the Islanders. He was on the Leafs last year,” her tone was light but she spoke in short sentences, talking to Bee like she was an idiot. “Do you not know about hockey?”

“Not a lot, actually,” Bee tried to keep her voice as cordial as possible. She could see Aryne trying to suppress a smirk. “I’m usually too busy with work to learn about other teams, so I just stick to the Leafs.”

“Oh…” Sydney was taken aback by Bee’s answer, by Bee’s lack of interest in who she was, in Bee’s lack of caring about anything to do with her.

“Bee’s a financial analyst with Scotiabank,” Aryne informed Sydney.

“And Morgan’s okay with that?”

A shiver ran up Bee’s spine. “Why wouldn’t he be okay with that?”

“Morgan earns more than enough money for the both of you. All the hockey players I know would love to have their girlfriends at home with them to help with the hockey schedule. You know how boys are so dependent,” she tried to turn it into a joke. “They can be so useless sometimes.”

Maybe her boy was dependent, but Morgan could get by on his own. Bee didn’t like the insinuation that he was the only one that mattered in the relationship and that her needs took second place to his. That’s not the way she lived her life, ever, and that’s not the way she and Morgan acted in their relationship. “Morgan loves that I have my own career,” Bee said definitively, taking a sip of water to prevent her from saying anything else she might regret.

Sydney smiled politely. “Well, I won’t keep you two much longer,” she gave a half smile to Bee before focusing on Aryne. “Look for the invitation to come late May. It’s going to be in Southampton. We’ll provide hotel details.”

“Good luck with the rest of the planning,” Aryne smiled before Sydney walked away, readjusting a Prada bag on her shoulder. Aryne looked back at Bee and gave her a look. “Sorry about that. I thought we’d be safe here.”

“Is she always like that? Namedropping Jessicas and Boomers and who her husband is?” Bee asked.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Aryne rolled her eyes slightly. “Her dad was a pro football player and now she’s getting married to Matt. He played for the Islanders with John, then played in Toronto for two years, but now he’s back on the island. She’s really close with Steph.”

Bee tried not to roll her eyes. She didn’t like those types of people – those that would namedrop to get what they want or so they could let you know who they were. It actually did say a lot about who they were, and to Bee, it wasn’t that good. She didn’t even like it when Morgan did it all those months ago at Cibo. “What did she mean she saw me on Instagram?” Bee asked.

“Well obviously we’ve been uploading pictures and stuff,” Aryne said, taking her phone out of her purse. “But then there’s like, the fanpages or whatever. She stalks them a bit to see what they say about her and Matt.”

“The what?”

“The fanpages. You know, like the girls who somehow get a hold of our pictures and then post them on their accounts?” she phrased it as more of a question. When she saw the confused look on Bee’s face, she shook her head. “Oh come on Bee. You have to know about them.”

“I know about the girls who send me messages telling me I’m fat and Morgan’s my sugardaddy,” she said bluntly. Aryne knew about them too. They laughed about them together. “I don’t know about these so called fan-pages. How do they get the pictures if our profiles are private?”

“Oh, they find their ways,” Aryne typed something into her phone and swiped through a few screens. “It’s nothing horrible. They literally just post pictures. But…yeah. Here’s you,” she said, showing Bee her phone over the table.

Bee took Aryne’s phone in her hands and swiped through the post from @theladyleafsoftoronto: ten pictures stolen from her Instagram account, from Ashley’s Instagram, and even from Lucy’s private one somehow. Group shots of her with the girls. None of her and Morgan together, thankfully, because those were few and far in between. She had just posted her first one, series of photos of them together in Vancouver, after they got back from their trip. She’d cleared her Instagram like Angie told her to, and she hoped they wouldn’t get out.

“Check out at NHL wives and girlfriends,” Aryne said the name of another account before she stuffed her face with contents of her poke bowl. “Those girls should work for CSIS.”

Bee punched the handle into the search bar and immediately saw the account. She didn’t have to scroll far to see the two different posts, each with another series of photos and videos of her. Twenty total. They had screengrabbed Instagram stories of her and Morgan kissing from Auston’s New Years Eve party and others, Boomerangs from Halloween in their costumes, and even went so far as to include one of the oldest pictures of herself she had posted to Instagram. They were crazy. And somehow – yup, of course, of-fucking-course – the series of photos of her and Morgan together from Vancouver were on there. She didn’t even want to know how they got there.

“Wait…” Bee said as she noticed one specific picture. Their backs were to the camera and they were standing on the seawall on Kitsilano Beach, where Andy brought them when they landed in Vancouver. “That’s…that’s not…”

“What’s wrong?”

“One of these is Shirley’s picture,” she said. “Shirley…she only posts to Facebook. You mean to tell me they stalk her Facebook?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Aryne shrugged her shoulders. “I told you. They should work for CSIS. They could get information on anyone. Hell, if you didn’t even have an online presence they’d still find you.”

It was at that point, staring at the candid picture Shirley had taken of them in Vancouver, that Bee realized there was nothing she or Morgan could do about it. Absolutely nothing. They could switch on every privacy button they could, they could refuse to post – none of it mattered. It would still end up somewhere. It would still end up on an Instagram profile with almost 10,000 followers and fifty comments on the post. It was completely out of their control.

So why bother?

“Jesus,” Bee shivered slightly, and it wasn’t because of the cold outside. She handed Aryne’s phone back to her. “I didn’t know…I mean, these girls must have a lot of time on their hands.”

“I know it’s a lot, but it’s not a big deal. It happens to us all. They all find it somehow. The more you come to just accept that it’s gonna happen, the less freaked out you get when it does happen,” Aryne explained. “The fact that you don’t care what they say helps, too. Yours and Morgan’s relationship is strong and you’re better than what they say about you. Other girls aren’t as strong as you.”

***

Bee had received a text with a picture of every Valentine Morgan found on his 13 day road trip followed by a heart and a message of “I can’t wait to see you”. Now that he was finally on his way home, Bee sent him a text back: “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

She was restless. All she wanted was him with her, beneath her, above her, beside her, behind her – she didn’t fucking care at this point. She wanted touch him and to feel him so desperately she was willing to jump his bones the second he got in the door. Hell, she’d meet him down in the parking garage if it meant getting her hands on him. But with the last ounce of self-restraint she had, she put on her blush coloured baby doll lingerie set and waited for him on the bed.

Even as she heard the door open and shut, she stayed in her position. “Bumblebee?” Morgan called out, the sound of his bag hitting the floor loud in the quietness of the apartment.

“In here!”

She heard his footsteps make their way to the bedroom. When he opened the door, he was greeted with her, sitting on the bed on her knees in her lingerie. He stopped for a moment, taking in the scene before him. “Well well well…happy belated Valentine’s Day to me,” he hummed.

“Happy Valentine’s Day baby,” she smiled, noticing he had something in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Your valentines,” he said. “Wanted to give you a kiss for every one you left me, but it seems like you have other plans in mind,” he licked his lips. “I’ve never seen this before.”

“I was keeping it a secret.”

“Oh were you,” he sauntered over to her, making a come hither motion with his finger. She moved towards the edge of the bed where he was standing, slipping her arms around his neck. “I mean it. Thirteen kisses,” he mumbled, grabbing hold of the flesh at her hips before giving her the first kiss. “I love the pink,” he mumbled.

“I knew you would,” she said, biting his bottom lip. “God, I missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you too, Briony. But I’m home now.”

She kissed him again, unable to wait any longer. They definitely gave each other more than thirteen kisses as they made out, but she wasn’t exactly complaining. Morgan’s hands on her flesh were intoxicating and all she wanted to feel. She wasted no time in ridding him of his clothes. He moved quickly to put the valentines on the dresser so he wouldn’t lose them.

“Lie on the bed,” she directed him when he came back.

“What?”

“I said lie on the bed,” she repeated as she made way for him to do just that.

“What are you --”

“Can you stop asking questions and just lie on the bed!” she giggled, pulling him down so he had no choice. Crawling in between his legs, she couldn’t help but smile as he put his hands behind his head to view her. She grabbed a pillow for him so he could use it in place of his hands. She needed his hands for this. “Did your cock miss me?”

“Mmmm, you have no idea,” he said, his voice low.

She helped him out of his boxer-briefs and scratched her nails teasingly down his thighs. When she finally grabbed hold of his cock, she smiled before kissing the head gently. Morgan bit down on his lip as he looked at her. “C’mon baby.”

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head, a devilish smile on her face. “Nice and slow.”

He glared at her momentarily. “Excuse me?”

“Nice and slow,” she repeated, her eyes flashing with revenge. “I can tease too, you know.”

“What are you – wha…” he didn’t understand what she was trying to say, but then it hit him. This was payback. ‘Nice and slow’ was payback for their little impromptu rendezvous before Auston’s New Year’s Eve party, where he’d teased her so achingly slow with his fingers. “Baby, please --”

“No,” she said definitively, licking the underside of his cock, but pulling away right after. “Nice. And. Slow.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. He knew he was going to pay for that one day.

True to word, miraculously, she worked on his cock slow and steady, making sure to take her time with the foreplay and use all of her tricks that she knew would drive him wild: the moaning, the dirty talk, even the simple act of catching his eye while his cock was in her mouth and rolling them to the back of her head in pleasure. His body felt like it was a thousand degrees as she worked her magic.

When she began to take him deeper into her mouth and throat, he made sure to gather her hair in his hand as he guided her up and down his shaft. Like always, his eyes rolled back when she would gag slightly, but because she was taking this all nice and slow, everything seemed heightened. She was thoroughly enjoying herself and taking her time, and by her actions he knew she wasn’t forcing herself to do anything she was uncomfortable doing.

“Feeling good, baby?” she asked quickly before taking him into her mouth again.

He grunted in appreciation, tightening his grip on her hair slightly. “You’re so fucking good.”

She moaned a little before she sucked him from base to tip, ending with a pop. “I wanna taste you baby.”

His breathing was hot and heavy. “W-What?” he stuttered out.

“I want you to cum down my throat baby. I want to taste you,” she cooed.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he moaned out, but before he could say anything else, she took him deep in her throat quickly, gagging, and he actively had to think about something else to prevent him from exploding right then and there. He caught her eye as she looked up at him. “I won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

She giggled. “Good,” she said before continuing her actions.

True to his word, it wasn’t long before he began to lose control. He tightened his grip on her hair one last time before he rocked his hips so he could push himself even deeper into her throat. After one last moan and one last gag, she felt him shoot his hot load into her throat. His breathing was erratic, his sighs more high-pitched than normal, and Bee let out a satisfied sound as she swallowed every bit of him.

She continued sucking until she felt him get soft, ending with another pop and another devilish grin on her face. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Morgan.”

“Hap…Hap…” he tried to speak, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even think straight. “I can’t…I can’t…” he repeated, worried, still on a high. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move, but he knew the night couldn’t end here. No way. He never wanted to not make her come, especially for Valentine’s Day celebration, but after doing so himself, like that, he didn’t know how long he’d have to take to recuperate. Needless to say, he didn’t exactly want to wait either.

“C’mon Morgan,” she whispered, her voice breathy and low, her lips grazing against his ear.

His brain was fucking mush. He wasn’t even sure where he was to be honest. “I…I…” he tried to formulate a coherent thought, completely spent and still trying to catch his breath.

“C’mon baby. I’m all dressed up,” she taunted him.

He watched her as she slipped her hand underneath her panties and began to touch herself. He regained enough semblance of a conscience to realize he didn’t want her to be doing that. He wanted to be the one. “Stop,” he said as firmly as he could.

She did as she was told. She looked at him and a small smile crept onto her lips. “How do you want me?” she asked.

Just by the way she phrased it he was ready to explode again right then and there. “Get on your knees,” he said, and she followed instructions, lying back on her knees to face him. “Other way,” he directed, watching the surprise spread across her face as she did what she was told yet again.

Finally regaining enough consciousness, he got on his knees too, getting behind her so her back was flush with his chest. He wrapped his left arm around her slowly, making sure his fingers grazed her skin underneath the material of the babydoll. His right hand was already playing with the lacy material of her underwear. He kissed his way along her shoulder and up her neck until he got to her ear. “You trust me?” he asked.

Bee nodded her head. “I trust you.”

He gave her another tender kiss on her neck, his right hand already reaching over and slipping into the front of her panties to tease her hot core. She jumped at his touch, knowing what he was about to do. “I’m gonna start with one,” he whispered in her ear.

“Two.”

A shiver went up his spine. “Two?”

She nodded her head. “I want it so bad.”

He sighed contently, chuckling to himself at the desperation in her voice. He began teasing her with two fingers, playing with her slick folds and rubbing circles on her clit as he continued to kiss and bite the skin along her neck and shoulders, definitely leaving marks. He could feel her getting wetter with each passing moment and, lacking all self-control, he didn’t wait to push his fingers inside of her.

She moaned at the action, grinding her hips against his hand as much as possible. She snaked her hand along Morgan’s arm that wrapped around her body and intertwined her fingers with his. “Fuck, Mo.”

“Feel good?” he bit down on her neck.

Bee could only nod her head as he curled his fingers in her, hitting the spot that made her shake in pleasure. “Feels so fucking good,” she managed to breathe out.

His kisses were a mix of tender and hungry; his bites both loving and heated. He bit his way back up to her ear. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me Briony?” he asked.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. “Yes.”

“Are you gonna take more?”

“Yes. Yes,” she said, desperate, grinding her hips again. “Please Mo. I want more.”

He slipped another finger in, now three fingers deep in her. Bee shouted out slightly at the sensation, adjusting to the new feeling as much as she could before her body began reacting before her brain could. A warm shiver went up her spine and she leaned back into Morgan, his chest slick with sweat. “You okay?” he asked quickly.

“Go harder, Morgan.”

Was it possible to self-combust? Because between the blowjob and this, he was sure he was going to spontaneously self-combust right then and there on the bed. She knew just the right tone to use in her voice when she begged to drive him wild. “You’re fucking desperate, aren’t you?”

“Please Morgan,” she begged again, bringing her free hand up to yank at his hair, pulling him so she could give him a sloppy kiss.

His fingers continued to curl inside her and she moaned out in pleasure. This time, he tightened the grip his arm had around her body, limiting her movement so she couldn’t grind against his hand as much. He knew how much she liked when he held her hips down while he ate her out, making sure the responsibility of her pleasure was in his hands the most, and he figured she’d enjoy it just as much in this situation too. A whine escaped her as she realized what he was doing; despite her best effort, she wasn’t able to grind down as much. “Harder,” she panted out.

Losing any semblance of restraint he had left, he began pumping his three fingers in and out of her quickly, much to her wish and indulgence. Her moans were loud and desperate, long and throaty, while, by some miracle, he was still rubbing against her clit and he was still kissing and biting down on the sensitive skin on her neck. It was all too much for her – the different sensations in different places – and her body became hot and she could feel her orgasm already building as Morgan continued to work. “Morgaaaaaaannnnn,” she elongated his name, pleading with him to continue exactly what he was doing.

“You like that, huh,” he mumbled against her skin, making her nod her head. “You’re so fucking desperate for me to fuck you like this.”

“Morgan, please,” she didn’t know what else to say. She knew it was all she was saying but she could barely form a coherent thought. This was so unlike anything they’d ever done; although he had fingered her before, it was never like this. It was never this hot and this steamy and this raw. She was so close she felt like she was going to explode already. “I’m so close.”

“Then make a fucking mess, Briony.”

That’s it. She’s lost it. She cried out loudly, repeating his name over and over again as he curled his fingers in her one last time, making sure it lasted as long as it could as she collapsed against his body, her head leaning back onto his shoulder. Her legs felt like jelly and her hair stuck against his skin.

His fingers were still in her and her thighs were wet as he gave her a tender kiss. “You’re such a good girl for me. Always such a good girl,” he whispered.

“Again.”

He stopped momentarily. He wasn’t expecting to hear that. “What?”

“More. And again.”

The shock was written all over his face, but she couldn’t see because between not facing him and her eyes rolling to the back of her head, she couldn’t see much of anything. “I…you want more?” he clarified.

“Keep going,” she nodded her head. “I want more. Keep going until I can’t scream anymore.”

In a snap second he realized what she was asking him to do. “Are you sure?” he asked one more time.

“Positive. Go wild, baby.”

He practically growled at her request, tightening his grip around her once more and starting to move his fingers in and out of her again. “You gonna take it all like a good girl?”

“Like your good girl.”

“Mmmmm, that’s right. You’re my good girl,” he licked at her jawline. “You ready?”

Bee nodded her head. She whimpered when he curled his fingers and began pounding them into her even harder than before. She felt so warm and wet and the sounds they were making, the moaning and the screaming and the panting, the squelching of her wetness against his hands, it was all so hot and heavy and neither Morgan nor Bee could get enough. “Mooorrrrgaaannnnn, fuck you’re so good baby,” she cried out.

“You want to come again, Briony? So desperate for me to make you come again?” he tormented her.

“Yes baby. Over and over.”

“Over and over till you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“Yes!” she screamed out, apparently loving the idea. “Yes baby. Because of you. Only you get to do this to my pussy.”

“You gonna make another mess?”

“Yes. Yes Morgan. Always.”

“You gonna come for me?”

“Only for you baby,” she turned her head as much as possible to kiss him. “Don’t stop, baby. Keep going until I can’t fucking take it anymore.”

Morgan did just that. Over and over Bee cried out, losing control, screaming, panting, her body being shattered as waves of pleasure continually washed over her, non-stop, especially after Morgan slipped a fourth finger into her, stretching her completely and filling her like she hadn’t been filled before. Her body felt like it was on fire as Morgan held her up in his arm, but the constant state of orgasm and the more overstimulation she felt, the more her body began to feel like it was going to collapse onto the bed at any given moment.

The longer they went, the more orgasms she had, and the longer they went, the more Morgan recovered and began to feel hard again. He didn’t even know how long they’d been going for, but because of the overstimulation, his non-stop movements, and the fact that Bee hadn’t been silent since they started, he also wasn’t truly sure how many orgasms she’d had. “How many?”

She didn’t answer at first. She couldn’t answer. She was so wrecked she didn’t know words were a thing she could use. “How many, Briony?” Morgan repeated.

“I d’know,” she let out quickly.

“You wanted this baby. How many?” he demanded an answer from her.

“I don’t…I don’t know,” her moans were broken, her skin shining from the sweat. “It’s so much.” A rose flush had taken over her body. His fingers hadn’t stopped. She was too concentrated on the feeling; the feeling of pleasure but also the feeling of being completely lost to another person, her pleasure in his control, and feeling one hundred percent safe about it.

“C’mon baby, you can keep going,” he encouraged her.

“Morgan,” she cried out, so hot and so wet and so…so willing to keep going.

“C’mon, you can do it again, huh? Like a good girl? Like my good girl?” His voice was soft instead of demanding, filled with love instead of forcing her to do something.

“Y…Yes,” she panted out. All she knew was that she was close, she was so close, but she wasn’t done yet. It was a lot, almost too much, definitely more than she had ever felt before, but she wanted to keep going.

“That’s my good girl,” Morgan cooed as he placed a kiss on her temple. “I’m almost ready, okay? But you’re being such a good girl.”

“Fuck me when you’re ready,” her voice was hoarse and strained.

“Don’t worry baby. I’ll fill you up like I always do. Stretch that pretty pussy how you like it.”

“Mmmmmmm fuck, keep going Morgan. Keep going,” she whimpered.

“C’mon baby, you can take it. You can take it,” Morgan hummed as he began moving his fingers inside her again. She was so sensitive that any movement sent her over the edge quickly. She cried out his name over and over, his fingers and her thighs absolutely fucking soaked, and it wasn’t long before he felt her walls clench around his fingers again, and again, and again.

Finally, finally, the arm keeping her up loosened, his hand going to his cock to stroke himself and get him as hard as he could. She immediately collapsed down, hitting the sheets as he teased at her entrance. It wasn’t long before he pulled her by her hair, slick with the sweat from their bodies, and brought her back to be flush with his chest. “Are you okay baby?” he asked. She barely nodded her head. “One more?”

She closed her eyes, another barely there nod. “I need your cock deep inside me.”

He entered her in one quick go, gasping at how fucking wet she was and how fucking easy it was to slide in to her aching, hot pussy as she collapsed on the bed again, ass up in the air for him. He knew he wasn’t going to last long, his hard thrusts burying his cock deep inside of her. She screamed and moaned and whimpered over every movement, practically sobbing at the feeling of feeling completely and absolutely wrecked by Morgan. When she felt his hot cum squirt inside her, one last orgasm – after way too many to count – ripped through her body, sending her into one last rush of pleasure before Morgan collapsed on top of her body, cock softening inside her but refusing to pull out.

It was a long time before they came back down to earth. Bee’s heart was threatening beat right out of her chest, the overstimulation still running rampant through her, especially since Morgan’s cock was still inside her. She took some deep breaths to try and calm herself. When Morgan’s arm wrapped around her and he shifted their bodies slightly so he was spooning her, he placed tender kisses along her shoulder, now absolutely ravaged with red hickeys and bite marks, and she felt her heartbeat slow down a bit.

“You okay, baby?” he whispered.

At first, she could only nod her head. Her throat was so dry it hurt to speak. She wondered if she would have a voice tomorrow. “I’m okay.”

“You did so good baby. You were so good for me,” he cooed, giving her another tender kiss. “Always such a good girl.”

She couldn’t get enough of him calling her his good girl. She knew she was always good for him, to him, but he was good to her and for her, too. She twisted her body so she could somewhat see him yet still keep his cock inside her. She was absolutely spent, just absolutely destroyed, but she wanted to see the face of the man who made her feel this way; the face of the man who indulged her every want but always kept her needs in mind. “Thank you, baby,” she whispered. She wouldn’t have been confident doing this with anybody else, and for that, she was truly thankful. She could completely lose herself to him and know she would be safe. She knew he would explore this with her but always keep her in control.

“Thank you, baby,” he kissed her. “I love you so much. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No. No, you didn’t hurt me. It was better than what I wanted. I love you too.”

“You wanna clean u--”

“No,” Bee said as he began to move. Her desperate hand on his skin stopped his movements. She knew it probably wasn’t the best decision but she didn’t care. “I don’t care right now. Just stay here with me.”

Morgan nestled back into her, arm draping over her body as he pulled her close against his chest, their bodies still slick with sweat. She’d kill him once she realized what her shoulders and neck looked like, but for now, all he could do was kiss the skin peppered with love bites until they both drifted off to sleep.

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #alone together series

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gta-5-cheats · 6 years

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The days leading up to Meghan Markle and Prince Harry’s first date

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The days leading up to Meghan Markle and Prince Harry’s first date

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In 2016, “Suits” actress combined business and pleasure when she traveled to London for work . . . and ended up falling in love with In this adapted excerpt from his new book, (Grand Central Publishing), out Tuesday, royal biographer Andrew Morton reveals the inside story of how the couple first met — from the friend who set them up on a blind date at Soho House to the heartbreaks that bonded them together, leading to May 19’s royal wedding.

As Meghan Markle nestled back in her seat in preparation for landing at Heathrow Airport, she had love and marriage on her mind. It was June 2016 and the “Suits” actress had just enjoyed a long weekend on the Greek island of Hydra — savoring wine, fresh seafood and yoga alongside her best friend from college, Lindsay Jill Roth, who was soon to be wed. As the maid of honor, Meghan had planned the luxe bachelorette bash, considerately organizing the party in this beautiful location rather than some raucous club.

“There is something wholly cathartic about being able to turn it all off — to sunbathe with no one watching, swim in the briny Mediterranean Sea, eat copious amounts of Greek salads and fried red mullets and toast to the day,” she wrote on her blog, The Tig.

The women, including Roth’s other bridesmaids, had undoubtedly discussed romance, the past and future. Meghan had also arranged a surprise wedding dress fitting for Roth — a TV producer who met the actress at Northwestern University — at the Toronto location of Kleinfeld Bridal boutique (the New York institution made famous by the TV show “Say Yes to the Dress”).

Meanwhile, Meghan’s own relationship with Canadian chef and restaurateur Cory Vitiello had recently ended, having withered on the vine as both of their lives became busier and busier, and she likely relished time away from Toronto and the house they had shared there.

She was officially flying to London for a week to promote the upcoming season of “Suits” and to attend Wimbledon as a guest of Ralph Lauren’s fashion house. And, although the newly single actress was open to finding new love, she never expected to be set up with a real-life prince charming.

After watching her friend, legend Serena Williams, play in the tournament, Meghan reached out to Piers Morgan. The morning show host — with whom she was Twitter buddies — was a favorable media friend for an up-and-coming actress seeking her name in headlines.

The two agreed to an early evening drink at his local pub, the Scarsdale Tavern in Kensington. Morgan was a “Suits” fan, but this was his first time meeting the woman who played paralegal Rachel Zane. “She looked every inch the Hollywood superstar,” he later recalled. “Very slim, very leggy, very elegant and impossibly glamorous.”

Meghan sipped a dirty martini as they chatted about the series, her days as a “briefcase girl” on the game show “Deal or No Deal,” gun control in America, women’s rights, her passion for calligraphy and her one‑time ambi‑tion to be a TV presenter. She also admitted to Morgan that she was “out of practice” with the dating scene and trying to fend off “persistent men.”

Meghan Markle in 2013WireImage

Morgan was impressed. “Fabulous, warm, funny, intelligent and highly entertaining,” he later recalled. “She seemed real, too. Not one of those phony actress types so prevalent in California.”

While in London, reportedly from the end of June until early July, Meghan was working closely with Violet von Westenholz, a Ralph Lauren public relations executive. “How much more can I adore this gem,” an effusive Meghan wrote on Instagram of her new bestie. Not only is von Westenholz a well‑connected fashion maven, but her father, interior designer Baron Piers von Westenholz, is a friend of Prince Charles.

For years Violet and her sister Victoria had joined Princes Charles, William and Harry on annual skiing trips to Switzerland. In fact, Victoria was once seen as a possible match for Harry.

Instead, it seems likely that Violet set up Meghan and the prince on their blind date, which probably took place at Soho House during her visit to the city.

It is certain that Meghan was excited the day of her first date with Harry. On that day, the actress had lunch with her friend Gina Nelthorpe-Cowne at the Delaunay restaurant in the chic Covent Garden neighborhood. The two women met in 2014 while both working on the One Young World youth summit; Nelthorpe-Cowne later became Meghan’s agent. She told the Daily Mail last week how Meghan broke the news.

“[She] told me, ‘I’m going on a date tonight . . . With Prince Harry!’’ . . . She whispered it so quietly I had to ask her to repeat it,” Nelthorpe-Cowne recalled.

“I couldn’t believe what I was hearing but I think she could barely believe it either. We were both extremely excited.

“I jokingly asked if she knew what she was letting herself in for and she said: ‘Well, it’s going to be an experience and at least it will be a fun night.’ ”

Had Meghan met Harry a few years earlier, she might have had a different expectation.

Princess Diana, Prince Harry, Prince William and Prince Charles circa 1995Getty Images

The prince would be the first to admit that during his 20s, his life had descended into “total chaos” as he struggled to process since the tragic death of his mother, Princess Diana, in a 1997 car accident in Paris.

Drilled with grief and absent a steadying, nurturing influence in his life, Harry had gone off the rails. He became notorious as an angry drunk who lurched out of London nightclubs, ready to throw a punch at the paparazzi who dogged his every footstep.

For years, he was carefully protected by highly paid public relations professionals who smoothed over his public escapades.

When he dressed up in a Nazi uniform for a “Colonials and Native” fancy dress party shortly before Holocaust Memorial Day in 2005, his minders accepted that it was a “poor choice of costume,” but that there was no malice in his decision. Similarly, when he was caught on video referring to a fellow officer cadet at Sandhurst as “our dear little Paki friend” and another as looking like a “raghead,” a pejorative term for an Arab, once again his p.r. minder Paddy Harverson came to the rescue.

If Meghan had been in his life at that time, she would not have been impressed by his casual racism. Nor were others. “He was a very lost young man,” a former royal official told me. “Harry was deeply troubled, unhappy, and immature, imbued with the slanted, quietly racist views of those from his class and background.”

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In 2012, he was pictured cavorting naked in a Las Vegas hotel room during a game of strip billiards with a bunch of strangers, some of whom had camera phones and uploaded photos of his antics for the startled world to watch. “Too much army, not enough prince,” was his rueful response.

But, in fact, the army had also helped give him a sense of purpose. At the end of his first tour of duty in 2008, he traveled with the coffin of a dead Danish soldier, which had been loaded on board his flight home from Afghanistan by his friends, along with three British troops all in induced comas who were being transported with their missing limbs, wrapped in plastic.

“The way I viewed service and sacrifice changed forever,” he recalled. “I knew it was my responsibility to use the great platform that I have to help the world understand and be inspired by the spirit of those who wear the uniform.” That flight set him on the trajectory that would culminate in the Invictus Games, an international multisport jamboree in which sick, wounded or injured servicemen and women compete.

In September 2014, after a year of planning, the first games, which involved army personnel from around the world, were held in London. The games were a triumph, giving the prince, who was due to leave the army in 2015, new focus and impetus. He was fully committed to using his unique position to help and encourage those who were at the sharp end of modern warfare.

“Since then, he has become the man he is today,” observes a former royal courtier. “It has not been an easy process. He has become more open and developed into someone who genuinely cares about social issues.”

By the time he met Meghan, Harry was also — after a series of failed romances — warming up to another big life change.

At a birthday party in January 2016, he told TV presenter Denise Van Outen: “For the first time ever I want to find a wife.” Three months later when he was in Orlando, Fla., for the Invictus Games, he again brought up the subject of love and marriage: “At the moment my focus is very much on work, but if someone slips into my life then that’s absolutely fantastic. I am not putting work before the idea of family and marriage . . . I just haven’t had that many opportunities to get out there and meet people.”

Prince Harry and Meghan MarkleGetty Images

But the difficulty of finding someone “willing to take me on” was an issue that always stayed at the back of his mind every time he met someone new. Were they attracted to him for his personality or his title?

As one of his friends pointed out to London’s Sunday Times, “You have to be a very special girl to want to be a princess.”

While Violet von Westenholz had the royal connections, Meghan’s friend Markus Anderson, the brand ambassador for Soho House who had just vacationed in Madrid with the actress, was on hand to rustle up a private room at the members-only club for an intimate evening away from prying eyes.

On July 1, 2016, Harry had just returned from France, where he had joined the then prime minister David Cameron, Prince Charles, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and other dignitaries at a service to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the start of the Battle of the Somme, one of the bloodiest days of warfare in British history. At an evening vigil for the fallen, Harry had read “Before Action,” a poem penned by Lieutenant W. N. Hodgson, who died in action. The event had been a moving reminder of the enormity of that day. He returned to London in somber spirits.

Until the day of the blind date.

Upon meeting Meghan and learning that she had given a speech at a UN forum, the prince realized — as he subsequently confessed — that he would have to up his game.

At the end of the evening, they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, he to Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace, she to a hotel room at the Dean Street Townhouse in Soho, London. Both were buzzing. As Meghan relived the fateful evening in her mind, she perhaps wondered if she had been too eager to accept his invitation to meet again the following day.

“After the date, [Meghan] was telling me what a great guy he was, a real gentleman, genuinely nice,” “When I asked if she would see him again she said: ‘Well, it looks like it.’ ”

Prince Harry and Meghan MarkleAlexi Lubomirski/Courtesy of Kensington Palace/Handout via Reuters

As Harry later confirmed, the couple enjoyed back-‑to-‑back dates, making every minute matter before she had to fly back to Toronto on July 5 to continue promoting the new season of “Suits.”

The normally self‑-contained actress was smitten. Unable to keep her feelings to herself, her Instagram account gave away just a little; on July 3 she posted a picture of two Love Hearts candies that bore a simple message: Kiss me. Next to the photograph Meghan posted “Love Hearts in #London.”

She had even taken herself by surprise. When Harry asked if she would be interested in joining him on a safari for a few days in August — mere weeks after their first meeting — she found herself saying, “Yes, please.”

“I’m sure that the Botswana trip is what clinched the deal,” Nelthorpe-Cowne said. “When they were back, she showed me the most wonderful photographs of the two of them on her phone. They were so clearly already in love. She told me it was serious and they had started discussing the future.

“She said they’d said to each other: ‘We’re going to change the world.’ ”

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