Page 39 of Dirty Pucking Player

Hopefully, that gives me a little relief.

This has been almost forty-five minutes of a giant cock tease. Every single thing this woman does is hot, and after seeing her out on the ice, nailing shot after shot this morning, I was already prepared to dive into her. And I was wholly unprepared for this.

Thank God her plate is almost empty.

If I had to sit and see her wrap her lips around that fork one more time, then issue that low little pleased hum of approval, I might knock everything off this table and fuck her right here and now.

It would be hard and fast and reckless.

That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me.

It would be very Bash, though.

And I’ve never worried about that before. I’ve had sex in dozens of public and random places, not even counting the women I’ve brought back to hotel rooms and my place for more private romps.

But this is Coach.

She’s not the type of woman who does things spontaneously, without meticulous planning and thinking ten steps ahead. She’s not the kind of woman you fuck in an alley outside a bar or the back seat of the car because you can’t wait long enough to get back to your place.

This woman has a kind of class the puck bunnies can’t possess. She’s busted her ass and held her head high through a gauntlet of media scrutiny.

She deserves something different. Something more than a quick fuck on the closest flat surface. At least, for our first time together. After that, all bets will be off. I can already tell I will want to have her everywhere and anywhere and won’t be able to keep my hands off her once she allows me in.

But in this moment, I need to maintain my control, which is easier said than done with her sitting across this small table from me, making those damn sounds with her wet, pink lips wrapped around the damn fork again.

I lean back in my chair and watch her. She grabs her wine glass and brings it to her lips. Her eyes drift closed as she swallows. Watching her throat work has me biting back a groan.

I’ve spent the last few days imagining what it would be like to have her doing that to my cock. And now she’s here in my hotel room, and given what she said before dinner, it seems she might be willing to accept that this might actually be something to explore between us.

It would be an epic mark for the win column—one I haven’t had many of when it comes to Greer since I arrived.

She’s a fighter, through and through, and I have a feeling she’ll continue to fight me any way she can for as long as whatever this is continues. Getting her to let down her guard and let me in will truly be a feat, but I’m known for pulling off miracles.

Those might be on the ice, but even off it, I have game.

And I love to win.

It’s what drives me forward on the ice, what makes me push myself harder and the only thing I have ever really wanted…until I met Greer.

Almost as if she can feel me watching her, her eyes fly open and meet mine, and that beautiful blush materializes. She averts her gaze, sets down her glass, and presses her fingers to her mouth. “Uh, it was a wonderful dinner and wine. Thank you.”

It sure as hell was.

Fighting a smirk, I shift in my chair slightly. “So, I did a good job ordering for us, then?”

That adorable little twist to her lips returns. “Don’t have to be so smug about it.”

“Yes, I do.”

And the fact that she’s still here tells me she’s either accepted that about me or is willing to ignore it in favor of giving in to the sexual attraction and her base needs. Maybe it turns her on more than she wants to admit. It would certainly make things a lot easier for me if that were true.

I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table. “What is it you’re so afraid of, Greer?”

Her brow furrows, and her shoulders tense. “What do you mean?”

Without waiting for my answer, she pushes away from the table and wanders over to the windows overlooking the Strip, arms wrapped protectively around herself. She turns back to face me, but her lip disappears between her teeth, her worry stiffening her stance.

I spread out my hands. “I mean…are you afraid to get involved with anyone, or…are you just afraid to get involved with me?”

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