Page 138 of The Stud

Wreaking of sweat and sex.

Sex that she only has withme.

Echoes of Layvon’s chirp ignite hotter and heavier huffs as well as heaves. “Whose bed do you fucking belong in?”

“Yours,” barely manages to leave her lips courtesy of my unrelentingly clamping. “Yours!”

“That’s fucking right, Slayer.” Stroking her clit is sloppily abandoned to completely cup her pussy, wanting – fuck that –determinedto fuck her with my hand, my dick, and my mouth all at once. Latching my teeth onto the top of her shoulder sends her hands behind her to my neck, nails clawing onto whatever skin they can reach. “You take my fucking cock.” My mouth on her flesh hardly muffles my snarls. “You take my fucking cum.”One sultry spurt splashes against her tight, thrumming muscles. “You drip for me in the fucking stands.” Hitched breaths become airy moans as I continue to rapaciously jerk, filling her past the brim, past the edges of where we’re pinned together, past the edges of her trembling pussy to the point she can’t deny what we were in here doing.

What order she was given.

Arden voraciously scratches and pants and writhes and comes undone on a stifled scream of my name, “Tannnnnerrrr!”

“BloodyhellIneededthat,” escapes me alongside knee buckling shudders. “You.” Possessive kisses land on the territory my teeth were tearing at. “I always need you, Arden.”

Gently prying my hand from her neck precedes her turning around to lock eyes. “And you always have me, Tanner.”

Our mouths slide back against one another except this time it’s softer.

And slower.

Brushes are so light and timid and pliant, it’s almost as though we’ve never kissed before in spite of the fact we have.

When we finally separate, smiles are exchanged in pure, unspoiled silence that indicates whatever had me off my game is gone.

Or…to put it in the Goonie Tunes words…the switch is off.

Equilibrium restored.

Focus for the miles ahead regained.

Shit!

The game!

Frantically redressing is followed by an even more hectic exiting of the closet that not only gathers security’s skeptical gaze but a distant onlooker that I’m glad to be sending her back to full of me.

Like Layvon, Khurana needs a subtle reminder that she’smine.

I imagine the scent of me and faint finger marks on her neck oughta do well enough.

Popping back into the locker room about ninety seconds late thankfully goes unmentioned.

Whether that’s due to Coach beginning his rallying speech or Cap knowing the quickie was for me as much as the boys goes unknown.

Unlike my cooled temperament.

“Snowman,” Blanc calls to me, expression curious, “you got your head back on?”

Regardless of all the eyes in the room scrutinizing my disposition, I calmly reply, “Yes, Coach.”

“Good. Because I want them to feel the pressure.” He resumes pacing the floor. “I want them to be so worn out from battling our D shift after shift after shift that they have to use their studs to give their D breathers. I want them so fucking exhausted by the time Snowman steps out of the box that they see him and know he’s gonna go for the shotexcept,” a single finger is lifted, “I want his ass back on the bench and Peck in to execute it.”

“You want them blindsided,” Cap nods while I begin to speedily put my gear back on.

“I want them worn the fuck outand thenblindsided.” An almost vindictive smirk slides into place. “Focus on getting themto skate circles. Turn overs. And blocking those shots. D,” he states to those in that position in the room, “you canhandlethis. Short shift. Short shift. Short shift. Fucking rotateskies over and over and over again and when Snowman hits that ice, Peck be ready to wheel and put another one on the board.”

“Ra!” escapes us as a unit.

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