Page 47 of Friendzone Hockey
“Yes,” I say, licking my lips.
A strong hand slides up my sweat-soaked cheek. He stares, eyes flickering as if a thousand images are racing across his perfect vision.
But I’m the only thing he sees.
Our lips crash like tidal waves. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Never. Something feral takes over. A deep primal urge I didn’t know existed. I breathe Stacey. I taste him.
It’s a kiss that leaves no room for interpretation.Claiming. Possessive. I fucking goddamn own you.
It’s a game-changing kiss. A ‘the end of my world as I knew it’ kiss.
His tongue pushes past my lips and starts a war with my tongue. He ravages me, stripping me of the last shred of sanity I have, baring my soul, breaking me down till there’s nothing left but him. I am an open vessel, he’s the life force that fills me.
A moan breaks the silence. It was me. Rough fingers press into my jaw. I want more of them. I want his marks all over me. And fuck. He tastes so good—like sin and love and home.
Home.
And forever.
I let go. It’s so hard for me to let go, but with Stacey it’s easy. With Stacey, it’s a free fall into warm rain, into ultimate solace.
Stacey pulls away, but not before he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth. My heart’s about to burst from my chest. That’s when the avalanche hits. Stacey kissed me,Stacey, and I undeniably kissed him back.
I want to do it some more.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says. “I’m fuck, I’m so sorry. It won’t … won’t happen again.”
His fingers clench, they’re still wrapped around my jaw.
“But you’re not staying at Hunter’s. You’re not. If you go there, I’ll fucking retrieve your ass. I’ll drag you kicking and fucking screaming if I have to. Do you understand me?”
Holy … holy shit. I’m gonna burst into flames. My cock swells and the skin around the head tightens painfully.
Man, it’s so tempting to defy him and bring the visions to life, but I nod because poking the bear at this juncture seems ill-advised. I got, well, exactly what I fucking wanted. I think. But if he gets to make demands then I’ve got one of my own.
“You do not fuck them anymore. They do not put their lips anywhere on your body. That ends immediately.” I don’t expect the fiery rage that burns my throat. Guess I hate the scenario with the little sex dolls more than I thought. But I don’t care. I don’t care if it’s right, or wrong, or downright terrible of me. If they touch him again, I’ll rip their fingers off.
“Never fucked them, Dashie.”
“Then whatever else you had going on, it’s over.”
He nods. “It already is. Um, unfortunately, I have to look after them for a bit longer. Their, uh, Daddy had an issue to take care of. He’ll be here to retrieve them as soon as he can.”
“They can’t stay in a hotel?” Or on the damn moon?
He shakes his head, swallowing, likely picking up on my unspent rage. Good. “No. Long—personal for them—story, but they can’t be left alone.”
What a mess. What a fucking mess.
Which means I definitely shouldn’t ask what I’m about to ask, but the part of me that longs for him needs to know. I won’t be a whole person until I know—know he’s got it as bad for me as I do him. I step forward, and he flinches, but he doesn’t object to my hand against his face.
“Do you think about it?”
“About what?” he breathes, still not fully recovered from kissing me.
“Fucking me.”
“What kind of a question is that? Fucking Christ, Dash.”
