Page 6 of Falling for the Pucking Bad Boy

“Baby, this isn’t shit until you lift this dress and give me what I really want.”

Done.

I grapple at my Chanel dress, heaving the fabric over my head and silently begging for him to take this a step further.

I'm not the kind of girl people picture when they think of a hockey fanatic. With my penchant for dresses and manicures that are always in pristine condition, I've spent my life being underestimated and overlooked.

But beneath the surface, I bleed my father’s team colors as fiercely as any player on the ice.

Judson didn't recognize me, not that I can blame him. My father's obsession with the game has always pushed me to the margins of his world. Tonight, though, I'm center ice, and the only game being played is the one where every touch from Judson sends shivers down my spine.

“Aurora,” Judson whispers against my neck, his breath hot, sending a jolt of electricity through me. His use of my name feels like a secret that binds us together in this bubble, away from the rivalry, expectations, and inevitable fallout. “Last chance.”

"Judson," I manage to gasp out, my voice a mixture of desire and lust. His name is a betrayal of everything my father stands for, yet here I am, unable to deny my magnetic pull toward him, and we’re not enemies.

We’re nothing but a night. One night.

He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. “Are you a screamer?”

The intensity of his stare pins me more effectively than his lips. It's a fair question. This isn't just a fling; it's a line crossed, a point of no return.

But he doesn’t know that.

And I’m not about to mention it either.

I find the part of me that's always been rebellious, the part that doesn't want to be defined by my father's career or my family's expectations and go with it. “I have a feeling you’re going to make me one.”

He smiles and doesn’t need any more encouragement. He captures my lips with his, and any remaining thoughts of rivalry, of right and wrong, evaporate in the heat between us.

I feel him fumble around with his pants, and I kiss him harder, coaxing out that inner ice god I know he has in him.

I’d be lying if I said I’ve never seen Judson play. The man is the sexiest human being when he’s on skates. I know I’m about to be one of many women he’s slept with, hundreds even, but I can’t bring myself to care.

We’re never going to see each other again.

And I like that.

Judson enters me with no warning, causing me to seize up from how thick he is, and he groans in pleasure at that.

“Fuck, Aurora,” he moans out, chin tucked into his chest as he watches himself enter me again. “I hope you didn’t have plans early tomorrow because you and I…I can’t wait to see how you taste next.”

My pussy clenches even though I do have plans—work—but that just gets me out of here faster and not coming up with a reason to stay.

But with Judson treating me like an animal rather than a fragile female in heels, I might pull an all-nighter to experience that because I won’t be able to again.

“You already promising me round two?”

“At least three,” he retorts simply as he picks up his pace. “Goddamn…”

Holy shit, he feels so good.

I don’t stop my own whimpers from forming or fleeing because they can boost his ego for all I care. I want him to give me everything he has.

“Don’t stop,” I beg shamelessly, arching my back to take him deeper. “Oh my God…”

“If you don’t stop being so fuckin’ sexy,” he grounds out. “I’m going to embarrass myself.”

I start to laugh—but it turns into another moan because Judson unleashes how athletic he really is on my body.

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