Slap Shot (3 page)
“You’ll grow to love that about me,” he said, his teeth raking over my cheek and his soul patch scratching at my flesh.
“You reckon?” I gasped, sucking in his scent, now combined with the heady smell of my own arousal.
“Yeah, in about two seconds.”
He withdrew, almost all the way, then glided back in through my thick moisture, his pubic bone connecting wonderfully with my clit.
“Oh god, yes, yes, I love it, don’t stop,” I called out shamelessly.
Why the hell had I denied myself all this time?
“Rick, Rick.”
His throaty chuckle combined with a tortured groan filled my ears as he picked up the pace. His face rasped against mine and our bodies slammed together as he thrust his cock harder and faster, faster and harder. Spearing me and grinding up against my clit, sending vibrant, chaotic sensations ricocheting around my body.
The orgasm that claimed me was swift and furious. One second I was building up to it, the next I was over the edge. Adrenaline flooded my system, blood pounded through my ears. I locked my heels in the small of his back, rocking my clit against his concrete body mass even more firmly. Without warning, another orgasm crashed through me, surging upward and tearing me in a million different directions. I dragged my nails down his shoulders, vaguely aware of the harsh intake of breath it generated as he plunged, wilder and more animalistic than ever.
He stiffened in my arms, buried deep, catching me just as my pussy milked through a third mind-altering orgasm.
“I’m coming,” he growled, his weight crushing down on me. “I’m fucking coming, I’m coming really fucking high up inside you.” He buried his cock deeper and I was aware of his rigid shaft throbbing and pulsing within me, filling the condom.
Feeling his pleasure catapulted me onto an extreme high and euphoria flooded my being. His whole body jerked against me, drawing out the ecstasy. The small amount of breath I had was shunted from my lungs in several sharp gasps.
“Oh yes, fuck, yes,” he groaned, his palms catching my cheeks. “That was fucking awesome.
You’re
fucking awesome.”
His mouth claimed mine and he kissed me passionately and thoroughly, his tongue exploring every part of my mouth as his body trembled through several deeply profound spasms. I swept my hands over his broad shoulders. They were laced with sweat, the heat pouring from him as hot as any fire.
Suddenly I landed back in the real world, our precarious, risky position taking control once more of my thoughts. I pressed against his chest and tore my lips from his.
He seemed reluctant to move and despite my best shove stayed over me, still kissing me, still rocking into me as we both caught our breath.
“We have to get dressed,” I panted.
“Mmm, in a minute.”
“No, now, someone might come in.”
“No one is coming in.”
“They might, get off me.”
He straightened, stood tall, but stayed buried inside me as he ran his calloused palms over the inside of my thighs, which were spread around his hips. “You’re so soft,” he said in an awe-filled voice, looking down at where we were joined. “So soft and such a perfect fit for me.” He pulled out a little then smoothed back in, swiping over my clit with his thumb.
“Oh god, please, stop,” I said, wanting nothing more than to go all night. I’d had hot, fast sex before but nothing had ever matched this, never had I blasted out three really intense orgasms from a quickie.
“Your words don’t match your physical response,” he said, a note of humor in his tone now. “I don’t think you want to stop at all. I think you want to keep fucking me all night.”
I summoned up the last dregs of my pathetic willpower and shifted up the table. His barely softening cock slid from me and his hands released my thighs. “I have to go check on the fireworks,” I said.
“Babe, I think we just made our own damn fireworks.” He chuckled, stooping for my panties then swinging them from his index finger in my direction.
“And we shouldn’t have, it was a
huge
mistake.” I snatched my panties from him.
His face creased into a frown. “Ouch, say it how it is why don’t you? You want to physically kick me in the nuts too?”
I sighed and slipped from the table. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”
Shit, I did mean it. I’d just blown two years of celibacy.
“I said I wasn’t dating. That’s because I don’t need the complication, the distraction of a man in my life right now.”
“But you clearly needed a man,
me
, just then. What was it you said?” He tugged off the condom and tucked his cock away. “Oh yes, I remember.” He made his voice high and breathless. “‘Oh god, yes, yes, I love it, don’t stop’. Now that to me sounds like someone who’s been denying herself something she needs for far too long.” He dropped the condom in the wastebasket.
I wriggled my skirt straight, adjusted my blouse. “I was denying myself for a reason.”
“Explain.” He reached for his shirt and shoved his arms through the sleeves, the noise of cotton against flesh suddenly loud in the silence of the room.
He carefully did up his buttons.
“Explain,” he said again when his clothing was neat. “I want to know why a fabulously sexy woman like you hasn’t been taking a man to her bed.” Shadows from the dim lamp sliced across his face and highlighted his now for real mussed-up hair.
I tightened my lips. There was no way in hell I was going to explain to him that I’d been busy burying a past I wasn’t proud of, shaping a new image not just to the outside world but also to myself. “You have to leave,” I said, stooping and banging things back onto the desk. “I still have a few hours of work to do.”
His eyes narrowed as he lifted up the laptop. “Then when you’ve finished come back to my place,” he said, his voice as thick and inviting as sticky, sweet molasses. “Come back and sleep in my bed and let me remind you
exactly
what you’ve been missing.”
“No, that’s impossible.”
“Seems perfectly possible to me.”
“No,” I said in a harsher tone. “I don’t
want
you, Rick, I don’t want any man. What part of you doesn’t get that?”
His hand shot out and curled around my waist. He snapped me to him, pressing his lips against my ear, his body burning hot against mine. “The part of me that just felt you ripping at my clothes, grinding your pussy against my thigh, then writhing beneath me begging me to fuck you, that’s the part of me that doesn’t get it, Dana. That is the part of me that just can’t fucking believe you don’t need a man in your bed
and
your life.” His voice lowered. “A man like me.”
I pushed at him, twisted my body and was thankful when he released me. “Go,” I said, biting back a rush of regret. If only he’d come into my life several years down the line, maybe things could be different. “Go, or I will have to call security and have you hauled out.”
He huffed and grabbed his jacket. “Yeah, you try that, but the way my life is going they’ll probably think you’re more of a danger to
me
than I am to you.”
I cocked my head, wondering what he meant.
He frowned and turned, reached for the door handle.
I pressed my fingers to my lips. “Wait,” I gasped, staring at several scarlet dots seeping into the stark white of his dress shirt, right over his shoulder blades. “Shit, sorry, you better put your jacket on.”
He twisted to look at me, confusion etched on his face. “Why?”
I held up my hands, wriggled my fingers so my long nails caught the light. “You have spots of blood on the back of your shirt.”
“Perfect, absolutely fucking perfect,” he muttered and disappeared out of the office, banging the door behind him.
Chapter Two
“Maddie, Maddie, where is the damn file?” I asked two days later, handbag swinging from my shoulder and laptop case clutched beneath my arm.
“Here.” She pushed a slim new file forward and I grabbed for it. “You’re not going to bother driving all this way back afterward are you?”
“No.” I glanced at my watch. “I’ll finish my emails at home.”
“Good, then I’ll lock up in half an hour after I’ve sent these potential venues to the Callahans.”
“Yes, great, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Yep, and good luck.”
I paused in the doorway. “Why would I need luck?”
“Well, from Carly Flannigan’s phone call this morning, she wants her engagement party pulled together in less than two weeks.”
I blew out a breath. “Yes, I know, as if we haven’t got enough going on. But still, we can’t turn away business.”
“Absolutely not,” Maddie agreed with a grin. “Now go, boss, or you’ll be late.”
I strode across the lot, beeping my Mercedes to life. I had seriously considered, for the first time ever, turning down this job. Carly Flannigan and The Brick’s engagement party would inevitably include an invite to a certain hot hockey captain who’d made me fall off the celibacy wagon. Fall off so spectacularly that by the time I’d realized I’d hit dirt it had driven into the damn sunset leaving nothing more than a trail of dust in its wake.
But I’d decided the answer was to send Maddie to attend this particular party. That wasn’t Best Laid Plans’ normal way of doing things. I liked to be in attendance. It was part of the package to have me there. But that would have to start changing. We were getting so many events it was bordering on ridiculous to have me attend every one. Yes, Maddie could start sharing the load, starting at this particular engagement party. If she managed well I’d be able to give her a pay raise too.
I piled my stuff onto the passenger seat and climbed in, flicking the air-conditioning to full-blast. My emotions had been in a whirl ever since my crazy, sexy meeting in the office with Rick “Ramrod” Lewis over the weekend.
Well, at least I know one of the reasons for his nickname!
On the outside I’d gone about as usual. But on the inside I’d switched from feeling nauseous, hunting for something to kick, and falling into a deep well of self-loathing, to having butterflies jumping in my stomach and my flesh on fire at the thought of his body over mine—hot and hard, ready and demanding. It had been good, so damn good and I couldn’t recall ever having a lover look at me so hungrily, so appreciatively, or be so pissed that I drew a line under it and made him walk away.
I sighed at what could have been, tapped Carly’s address into the GPS and headed for the freeway, reminding myself to make an appointment with my manicurist. Scarlet just wasn’t doing it for me anymore—too many wagon-falling memories.
Before long I pulled up at a large, gated villa with palm trees lining the front of a towering cream wall. I reached out the window and pressed the intercom. After I stated who I was, the wrought iron gates swung open and I crunched up the gravel path and parked between a red Ferrari and a white Lexus. Wow, these hockey players earned some serious money.
I climbed out and, struggling in my new heels, stepped past three more cars, the combined worth of which would probably pay off an entire third world country’s debt.
Smoothing down my blouse and skirt, I tossed my dark curls over my shoulder. Just as I was reaching for the knocker, which was shaped like a hockey stick, the door burst in on itself. A very slim, pretty girl with long, sleek black hair stood before me. I recognized her as Carly Flannigan, Olympic gold medalist and fiancé of Vipers right-winger, The Brick.
“Hi,” she said, beaming. “You must be Dana from Best Laid Plans. Thanks so much for coming at such short notice.”
“My pleasure and before I say anything else, congratulations on your recent engagement.”
“Thanks, yes, it is rather exciting isn’t it?” She grinned broadly. “Please come in.”
I stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind myself.
“This way,” she said. “I’ve just made coffee if you’d like some.”
“Lovely, thank you.” I followed her across the enormous foyer hung with large pieces of abstract art and through a wide archway, all the time aware of my heels clacking noisily on the marble tiles.
“Do you mind sitting in the kitchen?” she asked, stopping at a huge breakfast bar lined with silver and black leather stools. “I’m sort of half watching the game.”
“No, not at all.” I placed my bag, laptop and file on the sparkling granite surface and turned to the sound of the TV.
Oh, good lord!
It wasn’t the size of the plasma screen that had my heart frantically ramming up against my ribs like a puck hitting the back of a net. And it wasn’t the sheer opulence of the room either. It was the sight of five hulking Viper players lounging on a low L-shaped couch in front of the TV that had taken every nerve in my body, twisted it and set it alight.
My hand reached out to the granite to steady myself, my knees ridiculously weak. I didn’t need to see his face to know the captain was there. Just his tousled jet-black hair and the sheer width of his shoulders identified him to me.
“Milk or cream?” Carly asked as though everything in the world was perfectly normal.
“Er, milk please,” I said, my voice a whimpering squeak even to my own ears.