Page 11 of Players Always Win

Chapter Seven

Trent

Jemma holds up her hand, beckoning me with her index finger. She looks different this time, her lips plump and pink with a glossy look. Dark makeup covers her eyelids, making her green eyes stand out even more. I close the distance between us and push her up against the wall.

Her body molds to mine perfectly. She hooks her arms around my neck, purring in my ear as I plant kisses along her skin. Jemma’s skin is so soft, and she smells of fruit. The scent is so delicious I could lick her skin all night.

Dragging her fingers up my back and stopping at my neck, she tickles me without meaning to, but it feels good. So damn good, I don’t want her to stop as she massages my skin. Her slow exploration continues. Each movement is so deliberate my cock grows even harder, tenting my jeans. After she tugs on my hair, taking a chunk in her hand, she pulls my mouth to hers.

I part her lips with my tongue, greedy. She’s driving me fucking wild. Her other hand travels down my chest until she finds my hard cock. Peeking up at me, her eyes widen. She cups my cock over the front of my jeans.

Something snaps inside of me. Adrenaline floods my veins. My entire body is on fire from her touch. This doesn’t seem like something Jemma would do.

But I want her.

She wants me, too.

Jemma moves my hand from her hip and slides it up her stomach until I’m massaging one of her tits under her bra. Her nipple is rock hard, and she moans when I pinch it between my fingers. And I’m ready to come just from the sexy sounds she makes.

She leans back and licks her lips, her eyes fixed on mine. I mimic her, and then my lips crash into hers. I kiss her with so much intensity I have to hold her tight. Pinning her against my chest, our tongues work in harmony, each kiss fueled by more passion. Jemma reaches between us and unbuttons my jeans, sliding my zipper down. My cock is in her hand moments later. She doesn’t waste a second. Her hands are so small that she uses both to jerk me off. Looking up at me, she strokes me hard, licking her lips like she wants a taste.

“Fuck, Jemma,” I groan, sucking in a deep breath.

Damn, she’s good with her hands. I want her mouth too.

I push her hair behind her ears. “Suck my cock.”

She kneels in front of me, still holding onto my length, staring at my size as if wondering if it will fit in her mouth. I give her a look that says, Go ahead. It will fit. Some of it will, at least.

When her tongue connects with my sensitive flesh, I close my eyes, and a deep growl emerges from my throat. It’s primal and loud, but she does this to me. Using her hands and mouth, Jemma sucks me off to completion.

My entire body jerks when I come, and she swallows my cum. She sits back on her heels, her lips wet and puffy. I help her from the floor, my legs weak from how hard I just came. And then a loud noise cuts through the air.

What the fuck is beeping?

I wake to a buzzer. It’s so fucking loud I want to smash it.

I blink a few times to clear my vision. Between the annoying sound digging into my skull and my confusion, I hear Tucker howl with laughter.

Disoriented, I look over at him.

It was all a dream.

Jemma and her skilled mouth and delicate hands. Those perfect pink nipples. All of it was an illusion.

Tucker throws a towel at my head and laughs. “Dude, jump in the shower.”

I sit up and see my cock poking out of my boxers… and the mess I’ve made.

Fuck.

Fisting the towel in my hand, I look over at Tucker. “Don’t even start with me.”

He shuts off the alarm clock, still laughing. “Practice starts in an hour.”

Like, I need a reminder. It’s all I’ve thought about this week other than Jemma.

Coach Bryant splits us into three-person teams for a half-ice scrimmage. I’m tired after two hours of drills, but it feels good to be back on the ice. Tucker passes the yellow practice puck to me, and I draw my stick back, slapping the puck at Drake. He’s like a giant wall of muscle, his entire body covering the net.

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