Page 20 of Icy Pucking Play

"Fine. But this is the last one."

I position myself behind her again, telling myself it's purely instructional. That I'm not noticing how her ponytail brushes my neck, or how her breath catches when I adjust her grip.

"Eyes on the ball," I say, my voice rougher than intended.

She turns her head slightly, and suddenly we're face to face, barely inches apart.

Her eyes drop to my mouth, then back up, and I wonder what it would feel like to kiss her.

"Evan..."

I should step back and think all the reasons this is a bad idea. Professional boundaries, a huge age difference and she’s a damn reporter.

Instead, I find myself leaning closer, drawn in by the way she says my name. Her lips part slightly, and I can feel her breath on my mouth. I'm so close I can almost taste her.

A golf cart whizzes by, breaking the moment. I jump back like I've been burned, but not before feeling a distinct tightness in my pants. Sophie's club goes flying, and she looks as flustered as I feel.

"I should..." She's blushing furiously. "Bathroom! I need to...yeah."

She practically runs toward the clubhouse, leaving me standing there with a racing heart and a lot of questions I don't want to answer.

"Smooth," Mike calls from the next hole. "Real smooth, Ice Man."

I flip him off without looking, then grab my water bottle and head for the men's room myself.

I push open the door, thankful it's empty.

Splashing some water on my face, I try to cool down, but it's no use. I'm burning up, and the only cure is to take matters into my own hands.

I lock the door and lean against it, unzipping my pants. I'm already hard, my cock straining against my boxer briefs. I wrap my hand around my length, letting out a low groan as I stroke myself.

I close my eyes, and all I can see is Sophie.

Her smile, her laugh, her ass pressing against me. I imagine her here with me, her small hand wrapped around me instead of my own.

I picture her looking up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes, her lips parted and ready.

I stroke faster, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I'm close, so close. I imagine Sophie on her knees in front of me, her tongue darting out to taste me.

It's enough to send me over the edge. I come hard, my body shaking with the force of my release.

I lean against the door, panting, as I come down from my high. It's not enough.

I still want her.

But for now, it'll have to do.

I clean up quickly, washing my hands and adjusting my clothes. I check my reflection in the mirror, making sure I look presentable.

But even that minute—or ten—to get my head (both the one on my neck and the one in my pants) straight isn’t exactly successful.

Getting involved with a journalist intern—especially this intern—is the worst possible idea.

Even if she does have the most fabulous smile I've ever seen.

Even if she did spend all morning making me laugh for the first time in...I can't remember how long.

Even if she is quickly becoming the most dangerous person I've ever met.

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