Page 31 of Break the Ice
If only I had a pair of her panties to jerk off to, but her blouse’ll have to do. As I unzip my pants and pull out my cock, I tell myself it’s something I’ve got to do. I’ve got to get Sugar Tits out of my system or I’ll give new meaning to the league’s bad boy title.
My desire for the girl’s become manic and feral. Irrational in the purest sense of the word.
I’m aware of it. I’m aware how fucking insane this moment is. But I couldn’t give less of a damn about what consequences could come of it.
I wrap Marisse’s satiny blouse around my pulsing hard dick and begin fisting myself. The sensations serve the fantasy going on inside my head—Marisse surrendering to me as I spread her legs and guide myself into her warm pink inside.
The satin’s soft and sleek against my hard flesh. My grip provides enough warmth to pretend it’s heat from her pussy.
Her walls clench around me as I stroke into her and make her scream my name.
Pleasure courses up my shaft, then explodes like a bolt of electricity. I’m pumping out my release onto her blouse ’til it’s marked with evidence all over. Streak after streak of my cum on her pretty little blouse. A fucked up symbol of how I’m about to mark Marisse.
Make it understood she’ll be playing this game with me.
She might think she can evade my invitation with some other dinner date. But she’s fooling herself—I’ll always play to win one way or another.
I pocket my phone, leaving myself deep in the pitch-black shadows of the room. She’ll be back any second now…
10. Marisse
“Stunning dress on a stunning woman,” Mr. Quigley Blackman greets me. A restrained smile that never reaches his eyes and barely touches his lips comes to his face. He takes the empty seat at the table to immediate service from the waiter. He lets the waiter fuss over him for a second, supplying his cloth dinner napkin and listing off the wine selections for the night and then dismisses him with a condescending wink. “I must say I’m pleased you decided to join me this evening.”
“I thought it would be a good opportunity to discuss a few matters,” I say, my smile bright and superficial. I’m as restrained as Mr. Blackman, but in different ways. I play coy and act as though I don’t notice the pervy glance he gives my cleavage.
This plunging midi dress was chosen for a reason. It highlights all the curves I’d like to make a good impression with Mr. Blackman.
I’m doing what I have to do to ensure my survival.
Coming onto the Wolves, I had promised myself I wouldn’t be stuck in a reactive position like the past. I’d be proactive, seizing control wherever possible, and determining my outcomes. I’ve stood by on the sidelines before and wound up burned each and every time.
I won’t let the situation play out like what happened with David.
I may not know exactly what was going on the night of Mr. Hawk’s party, but I’m going to make sure my hands are wiped clean.
Without Rafe Golding’s manipulation and blackmail.
He’d smugly thought he was in the driver’s seat when he turned up to my apartment and gave his ultimatum. As if I’m at his mercy and must do as he says.
Some might say it would be in my best interest to entertain him. He can be used as another means to an end. Wild cards are best contained when they’re under the belief they hold power.
It’s a thought I keep in my back pocket. I’ve analyzed the situation from every angle over the last few days and I’ve decided to first gamble my efforts on Mr. Blackman.
He’s as rich and influential as Mr. Hawk was, with a piece of ownership in the team too, though smaller. His hotel was where all the seedy after-hours activities occurred that night. He has to have a vested interest in discretion.
“These past few days have been difficult,” I say, taking a small sip from my wine glass. “Mr. Hawk’s disappearance has been a shock to the entire team.”
“I think it’s safe to say it’s been one to the entire league and sports world,” he corrects.
“The speculation has already begun to get out of hand.”
He studies me, his mouth flat and disinterested. “Yes, well… the media tends to do that. What would they be without their sensationalized headlines and speculative articles they tout as the truth? Though Hawk has never disappeared before.”
“He spent most of the night in the penthouse suite he had booked.”
“Yes, he did,” he says. He curls his long fingers around the stem of his wine glass. “You must’ve been one of the last people to see him that night. How did your meeting go?”
My face warms, though I maintain my composure. “We didn’t meet for long. He had other engagements.”
