Page 11 of Break the Ice
“You’ll find out soon enough. It’ll be on your news alerts.”
“I look forward to the complete and total meltdown that’ll follow. How did negotiations go?”
I pocket my phone and clap a hand to his back. “I’ll find out soon. Hawk’s playing games like usual. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Phil’s wife just texted me. I’ve got a dick for her to suck.”
I leave the party behind for the new opportunity that’s come up. Tiffany’s texted me to let me know she’s waiting for me outside the ladies restroom. For all the screeching and condemning she’d done, it’s amusing to see her circle back so quickly. I expected she’d hold out at least a week or two.
Quality dick will do that to a woman.
I find her exactly where she says she is. Her eyes light up at the sight of me.
“Hey, Tiff,” I say. “You look a lot happier to see me. Just the other day you were threatening to lodge a foot up my ass.”
“What can I say? I missed you.”
“You missed me blowing your back out. That’s more like it, right?”
She rolls her eyes. “More like Phil’s been an ass and I need some excitement.”
“Probably has to do with his shit performance on the ice.”
“C’mon, before he sees us.”
She grabs me by the hand and leads me into the women’s bathroom. I don’t object even a little bit. I’m already over the party, and Hawk’s dragging his feet on our meeting. Why not get my dick sucked while I wait?
Tiffany’s always been a wild thing in the sack.
The moment the door’s closed, she’s dropping to her knees without any hesitation. Her hands fly to the button and zipper of my pants. She peers up at me with big, round fuck-me eyes. Her tongue pokes out for a lick of her lips before she covers my dick with her mouth.
I groan and grip the back of her dirty-blonde hair—some of it clipped in extensions I can feel when my fingers dig deep enough.
But she doesn’t slow down. She bobs up and down my length, making good use of the hot suction of her mouth. Tiffany Morasca was once a groupie passed around in NHL circles, though Morasca likes to pretend it never happened.
He’s tried to turn a slut into a wife and it’s never panned out in his favor.
Tiffany’s always willing to audition for a part on the team.
It makes it ten times sweeter that I hate Morasca’s guts, but more importantly, he hates my guts.
Her blowjob’s the perfect way to blow off some steam after the shitty evening I’ve had.
For the next few minutes, I don’t have to worry about Hawk’s games or Marisse March strutting around acting holier than thou while being no different than the rest.
My grip tightens in Tiffany’s dirty-blonde strands and my hips buck. My dick slides deeper down her throat. “Fuck, Tiff…” I groan, seconds from coming. “Your mouth should only be used for sucking from this point on.”
“Fuck off, asshole,” she grumbles. But she sucks me harder. Her head slides up and down faster.
The door springs open. Marisse stops dead in her tracks, eyes widened in shock.
I laugh. “Do you mind? We’re busy.”
5. Marisse
“Is this work appropriate?” I ask, modeling my dress in front of the mirror.
Jhene tilts her head to the side, her butterfly locs shifting to one shoulder. “It depends.”
“Depends? On what?”
