Page 45 of The Spice Play

But he didn’t leave. He stayed seated inside, his body over mine, his breathing heavy and fanning across my collarbones. “God, you didn’t need a lesson for that, did you?” he laughed, the sound wheezy and exhausted as he dropped the toy onto the carpet. His hand came to my side,and he gently dragged his fingers up and down, from the space beside my breast to the bottom of my thigh and back again.

“I still learned things,” I breathed, biting back the little grin as a shiver shook me. “I learned what spots you like touched. I learned that youlovemy throat. I learned what your precum tastes like, even if I didn’t get to taste the real deal.”

He chuckled as he pulled himself from my neck, lifting himself just high enough to look down at me. His cock twitched inside of me, pressing all of those spots again, and I couldn’t help but sigh at the sensation. “Youwantedto taste that?”

My cheeks heated.Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.“Is that weird?”

He pressed a single kiss against my lips, his pleasure-drunk grin only widening. “Not weird. It's a little surprising, but only because some girls don’t like that. Equally valid.”

“I’ve never really been one way or the other.” I shifted just enough for him as he slowly slid out from me. The emptiness I felt immediately almost had me begging him to stay inside. “I just… I don’t know, withyou, I want that.”

Shut up, Nelly. You’re going to say something stupid.

“You make me want to try everything,” I breathed, andyep, I’d been correct. That was stupid.

His eyes flicked between mine, the little line between his brows deepening. For a horrifying moment, I worried I’d freaked him out, worried I’d said the worst possible thing I could have somehow and that our stupid little lessons would be cut short here and now, and he’d never touch me again.

But he proved me wrong when he kissed me.

He proved me wrong when his fingers dragged across my sensitive, damp pussy.

He proved me wrong when he dipped them inside of me, just once, before lifting them up in front of my head, glistening from both clear and milky white fluid.

Heavy eyelids fluttered as he pressed two fingers to my lips. “Then taste me, Penelope.”

Chapter 18

Sebastian

Iknew better than to hedge my mood on something so trivial, but I couldn’t pretend that it didn’t gnaw at me at least a little when Nelly and Matty weren’t anywhere to be seen when we opened up the ice. It was something Coach insisted on the closer we got to playoffs — he said itlifted morale.We’d let the family, friends, and kids of both our team and the opposing’s onto the ice for fifteen minutes before smoothing over with the two Zambonis, and then we’d go right back into warm-up before the match began.

But as I leaned back on the boards with my mouthguard in my hand, my gaze split between the building crowd and the little ones zooming about chaotically on the ice, I didn’t spot them anywhere. It was one of Matty’s favorite traditions, and he’d been looking forward to showing off a little with his new skates.

It was fine. It needed to be fine because I couldn’t play a solid game if it wasn’t.

A hand clamped down on the top of my shoulder pad, squeezing the foam down to the plastic base. For a split,faltering second, my mind wanted to believe it was Nelly showing up to tell me she was sorry for being late and that they’d hit traffic. But as quickly as that hope built up, it depleted as I glanced at the worn, older skin and thick musculature of the hand and forearm in my field of vision. Coach.

“Change of plans.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.“That’s never good,” I huffed, turning my head in his direction but keeping my eyes locked on the main doors.

“Bryan’s starting center tonight,” Coach said, each word calculated, precise,cold. “I’ll sub you in later.”

Every part of me, from my toes to my fucking ears, coiled with thick, undulating tension.

What?

The doors opened on the other side of the arena. A huffing, out-of-breath familiar face came through with Matty on her back, his little bladed feet dangling beside her hips, but the kids were exiting the ice, and the pre-game skate was over — and for once, in all of this, I just wanted to go home.

I never wanted togo homefrom a game. Never.

I knew better than to question Coach on his decision. No amount of questioning would yield me a better answer than,“You were off your game this morning.”And no amount of complaining would make a difference to the outcome.

“Fine,” I spat.But don’t come crying to me when he fails to make a crucial pass during the first period, I thought, the words practically on the tip of my tongue — but I was exactly who he would come crying to. That was my role today, apparently. Sub. “I’ll make sure to bring Matty to you in the family room when he starts asking why his dad wasn’t on the ice when he was meant to be.”

The large hand peeled from my shoulder, and he grumbled words I couldn’t make out over the noise of the crowd fell on deaf ears. I wasn’t sure if he’d left or just taken a step back, but I was focused wholly on Nelly and Matty, on Nelly’s regretful expression and Matty’s pout, on the way my son squeezed his arms around her neck just a little more.

She clocked me, her eyes widening just a hair, and just as her mouth started to form around the mouthed words, I turned and headed for the exit in the boards to my right.

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