Page 113 of Well Played

Zoe

SNICK

The sound of the door as it closed cut through the silence of the hotel room. It echoed through the darkness, and I jumped, nerves and hormones on high alert. I made my way to the sliding glass door on the other side of the bed. Not bothering to turn on the lights, I slid the door open. The rhythmic sound of the ocean met the shore in gentle waves seven stories below calmed my nerves.

PING

Incoming text. Fuck, I hope he didn’t change his mind. One glance and I let out a chuckle. Nope, just my best friend, Eden, checking in on me, because that’s what she does best.

EDEN: Checking in, no serial killers Z. Cause even if women watch those damn crime shows, and he’s hot, I still track your damn phone and will not let you fall down a real life dark romance hole. Red flags are only fun in fiction.

ZOE: Not responding from a trunk. Just my room. I’ll let you know how it turns out in the morning ;)

EDEN: SQUEEEEEE. Ride his face for me. Or something. Cheers, my love!

I grinned, tossed my phone on the table, and slipped out of my dress. Kicked off my heels, crawled onto the bed, laid on my side…and waited.

Brett LeCavalier, in all his age gap sexy daddy vibes glory, dropped into my lap like a present from up above. Thank god Noah, his youngest brother and one of my best friends, had spilled one night at the bar how his older brother would never settle down. Which made him the perfect person to revenge fuck. The dirtier the better. And from the rumors that flew fast and furious around the table, he knew how to please a woman and had a few that tried to nail him down, to no avail.

Especially when he spilled how Brett interviewed a few days before to replace the Triumph’s current coach, who had an affair with an assistant coach’s wife and caused an enormous scandal.

As if my current situation wasn’t poetic as fuck, though. My ex, or maybe never was, boyfriend, Liam Shaw, current winger on the Montreal Triumph, kept me like a secret. Because, surprise, surprise, he had another secret girlfriend, but told us both we were the ‘only one’. Why the hell either of us caredenough for the assshole to be kept like a dirty secret was beyond me.

Workplace romance?

More like a workplace disaster. Talk about the sin bin.

The one and only time we slept together had also been the most disappointing night of my life. Of course, he was only the second person I’d ever had sex with and so far, my record for two’s company fell way short of my solo-is-the-way-to-go endeavors. Liam tried to tell me the reason I didn’t enjoy myself had been because I couldn’t let go. Alone, yes, but subconsciously I knew something wasn’t right.

Fuck, if only I had listened to myself. Neither here nor there, I thought, settled on my side on the soft, white hotel comforter covering the king sized bed.

Please, whatever sex goddess makes-a-girl-happy-deity listened to the prayers of girls like me, I thought,who needed to feel that damn thing everyone talked about and I read or fantasized about and let me for once, see the fireworks and scream someone’s name in utter ecstasy rather than cringe in disappointment.

If it was with my ex’s future coach, all the better.

Plus.

Time ticked by. My eyes had just drifted closed when I heard the telltale sound of the door being unlocked by a key card. My breath hitched, my body lit up by the sudden electricity in the air as the hiss of the door opening shot low in my belly. I forced myself to stay still, not react. His spicy scent and warmth of his body hit me. God, when I breathed in as I stood next to him, playing it cool and asked him for his phone, the pine and leather and something so male filled my senses and I swooned.

He smelled the way I imagined the epitome of sexiness had to smell. Mouthwatering, spicy, delicious, and darkness incarnate. Ok, that might be my JT Geissinger fan-girl side showing, butstill…I wanted to lose myself in him. His sharp jawline, rough with a day’s stubble, had me fantasizing about the way it would feel against the back of my neck…and between my thighs. Along my breasts. And god, those gray eyes? The storm that rolled through last night over the ocean paled in comparison.

And soon, God willing, I would.

Every footfall as he came closer revved up my already oversexed mind to where my body trembled with the need to come or explode into stardust. Part of me lost in the fantasy, because I wanted him to do every dirty thing he could think of, even if I was a toy for him to play with. There was freedom in it, a kind of release of expectations.

A low growl had me jumping up, but there was no way in hell I was going to blow this. A smile spread across my lips lazily as my mind slid into a kind of dreamy haze, not because of the two drinks I had that were just enough to make me lose the jitters, but because of his presence. The unspoken and intrinsic knowledge he would take care of me, and give me what I needed the moment I laid eyes on him a few days ago. The racing thoughts of how I dumb I had been, or that I missed something and still did, calmed in an instant. Brett LeCavalier made it stop.

The bed sank with his weight as he climbed onto the bed, one arm over my body, his torso caging me in. Trapped as he ran his nose along the sensitive skin at my collarbone. Shivers trailed behind in the wake of his touch, and I whimpered. Caught in between wanting to see his face and loving how the hard planes of his body contrasted with the softer places of mine.

“Don’t move unless I tell you. This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Little Tornado?” A hand traced up the side of my ribcage as he shifted. I could escape if I wanted to, and that was the point. This fucking man was giving me the chance to leave. But nothing in this world or beyond could make me leave this bed or Brett. Nothing. His fingers lingered at the point where my neck andshoulder met. His sexy hum of approval felt like the sweetest praise dripping along my spine. Wanting more, I fought the urge to squirm as his hand entangled in my hair. “Fuck, I want to bite those tits. Mark you as mine.”

I arched against him, but he tugged, then pushed my head down low, kept in place. Every inch of my body thrummed with desire, a dark and intense heat at being like this. All his. One night of being owned by a man like Brett would ruin me for any other man and provide an endless font for fantasies for solo Zoe time.

“Still no name for me, honey?”

He let up enough that I was able to shake my head. The sharp sting of his hand on my ass landed, and before I recovered, he delivered another. I yelped and knew my panties were useless. “Guess I’ll call you my needy little slut? No one else’s but mine. Tonight, I’m going to use you the way you crave. The way your body is screaming to be treated. How I want to. How you need it, from the first moment you walked into the bar. Nod if you understand.”

God, he even made consent sexy.I nodded, and desperation coursed along my fevered skin.

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