Page 40 of Rivals

Reign slides two fingers along the edge of my underwear, hooking them to the side, before his fingertips glide through the wetness he finds there. “You always feel so good. Always so wet for me, aren’t you, my little puck slut?”

“Reign,” I gasp his name right as he thrusts two fingers inside me. My legs spread farther apart, giving him better access.

“I need to see you, Riley. Unbutton those buttons for me, babe.” He nods toward my blouse. My fingers quickly move to undo the buttons, letting the crisp fabric fall away. “Bra too.”

My hands glide around my back and I unhook my bra, pushing the material down and out of the way so my breasts spring free. Reign groans, his eyes taking in the visual as they bounce lightly with every thrust of his fingers inside my body. My knees feel weak and my hands grab for him, holding his shoulders, gripping his jersey tightly.

“I need more, Reign.”

He smirks and leans in, kissing my lips hard, lightly biting my bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. “What my dirty girl wants, she gets.”

My mind blanks and my eyes glaze over when he calls me his. His dirty girl. His puck slut. It shouldn’t make me wetter, but it does. I want him, and I want to please him by coming all over his hand. I startle when the rough, taped end of his hockey stick slides up my bare thigh, disappearing under my skirt.

“Oh my god,” I gasp when he presses the blunt side against my clit. “Oh fuck.”

Reign smirks against my lips, his fingers pumping ruthlessly, while rubbing my clit with his stick. His eyes move frantically from mine to my hardened nipples. I can read it in his expression how wild everything is driving him, as if he isn’t sure where to spend more of his attention. My hips jerk in his hold, my body chasing the orgasm that he is holding just out of my reach.

“I’m so close, Reign,” I moan against his lips, trying to ride his fingers while grinding my clit against his stick. Never would I have imagined this happening when I decided to stop hiding and make it to his game. My pussy flutters and right before my body hurtles into an orgasm, Reign withdraws his fingers and pulls his stick out from under my skirt.

“What the—”

Reign steps back, his chest heaving and his eyes bright. I hear the scoreboard buzz and the school band start to play. “Don’t be mad, Riles. I’ll take care of you after. I want to imagine how it’s going to feel when I slide inside you after the game. After I knock Meyers on his ass for even thinking he could have you. We’re going to win, and I’m going to celebrate by coming so deep inside you, that you’ll be leaking my cum for days.”

“Reign,” I choke out his name, wanting him to make good on his word right now. “I need you.”

“You’ll get me, babe. After. I want you to sit with your panties soaked for the whole game, knowing that I did that to you. Me. No one else.”

I didn’t even notice that he was touching me, moving my bra back into place, and buttoning up my shirt. My blood is still humming, and I feel heated all over. On my neck, behind my legs, everywhere. Reign bends down and places another bruising kiss on my lips before taking my hand in his and leading us out the door.

In the hallway the noise and the cheers are getting louder. I can hear the pregame music starting. We’re close enough to the public that I start to panic, running my free hand over my uniform, through my hair. I’m sure I look like a mess.

“Pete will take you back to the student section,” Reign tells me, pointing to where the other man is standing and waiting to take me back up.

Somehow I manage to nod, my feet already carrying me away. Reign slips his helmet on and marches down the players’ aisle. The crowd goes nuts and I bet he’s finally on the ice. Pete brings me to the stands and I gingerly walk to the end of the row where my team sits. Quinn’s brow rises and her eyes drag over my uniform. Of course they’re all dressed in their warm ups or other school apparel. Rolling my eyes I take a seat, almost jumping back up when the aluminum seat presses against my damp underwear. Cursing Reign, I manage to tuck my skirt under my butt and have to cross my legs, to ease the tenderness and overstimulated skin. I even consider sneaking off to the bathroom to give myself some relief when the lights suddenly dim and the starting players for each team are announced. A spotlight follows each of them as they skate by as clips of their favorite warm-up songs play. It reminds me of a professional game and it makes my eyes roll. Rich kids.

The crowd stands for Reign when his name, number and position is called. The applause is deafening. My eyes follow him skating from his bench to where he high fives each of his teammate’s gloves before standing on the blue line. Pride swells in my chest, my lips turning up in a smile. Somehow he manages to find me in the crowd and the look in his eyes is pure lust, reminding me of where I was just a few short minutes ago. With his free hand he pulls his necklace from under his pads and slips the charmed number eighteen into his mouth. As if his actions have a straight pleasure line to my core, I feel the flutter deep inside.

Once the game starts, I manage to clear my head. Following the puck and immersing myself in the plays causes my adrenaline to spike in my blood. The excitement in the arena is contagious. I easily find myself cheering with my team and peers for the entire game. Reign skates like I always remembered. Effortlessly making plays and holding his team together, making them strong and fierce. I continue to be in awe of him. After a line change, he takes the bench and once again his gaze catches mine. I give him a small wave, when others around me start to notice his lingering eyes as they coast over my body. A few of the girls from my team pretend to catcall me and jeer about my “lover boy.” Ducking my head, I glance back at Reign and shake my head, hoping the stern look on my face will deter him from staring. Instead he smirks, his eyes shining when he stands with his stick, and brings the handle to his lips. It isn’t obvious to everyone around me. Only I see the way he runs the handle against his lips, slowly, the same handle that was rubbing against my clit, soaking in my juices, before his tongue darts out and he licks it. Shock radiates through my system along with the urge to have his tongue on me. My lips part, my chest heaves. Reign is going to ruin me. With a wink, he shoots over the board and launches himself back into the game.

In the last few minutes, I’m on my feet with everyone else when the other team takes a cheap shot to one of our players. The booing that ensues has to be calmed down by the refs. I make contact with Reign when he skates back to the ice, even though it isn’t his line, and he’s taking a defensive position.

My head tilts in question. He glances away from me and I follow his eyesight to the other team and they land on Blade. He’s planning something. Knowing Reign’s revenge is coming doesn’t make it easier to watch. I can’t help but keep my eyes glued to the ice while Blade chases the puck, looking like he’s going for a breakaway. Reign is a wall between Blade and the goal. Blade lowers his head and doesn’t see when Reign puts the stops on and uses his body to send Blade flying backwards, his body hitting the ground. Blade’s stick smacks the ice, the sound echoing in the stunned silence of the moment.

Then the crowd is roaring as Reign steals the puck and skates it all the way back down the ice, shooting at the other team’s empty net, winning the game 4-1. The Saints’ team leaves the bench to celebrate with Reign and tackle their goalie. The first game of the season is over. I glance over at Blade who is slowly moving back to his bench, his head down, before throwing his stick in the box. I wait to feel something. Guilt. Remorse. But it never comes. Blade played with fire and he got burned.

I follow the rest of my team out of the arena and into the warming area. Some of them leave and a few others straggle behind like me, waiting for our players to exit the locker room. I breathe easier knowing that the opposing team exits out a back entrance to get on the bus that takes them home. I don’t feel bad for Blade, but I also don’t want to see him hurt. He made his own choices.

One by one players emerge and they’re each given attention from the fans. I scan them over, looking for him, waiting, and wanting him to make good on his word. Amidst the chaos, I’m startled when a hand suddenly clamps around my mouth, another arm secured over my chest and I’m pulled backward into the closed-off atrium. Alarm bells ring in my ear and I brace myself to fight.

“Don’t alert them,” Reign’s voice whispers in my ear, and that’s all it takes for my body to sag against his. My eyes pop back open and my breathing returns to normal as I quit struggling.

Once we’re out of view, he takes my hand and we exit a side door. The chill in the air hits us immediately. Reign wraps his arms around me and ushers me to his car that is parked far from the building and almost entirely encased in darkness. Heat blooms in my chest, exploding when we reach the driver’s side door and Reign presses me back into it, his mouth descending on mine.

The chilliness, the noise of people talking and cars leaving, fade into the background. My hands find their way under Reign’s team sweatshirt, my fingers curling around the number on his gold chain.

“You were amazing out there.”

He stares down at me, the blue of his eyes deepening to match the night sky. “I thought about you the whole game.”

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