Adrian: An Ironfield Forge Hockey Romance

by Frost, Sosie

  And that was my sin.

  I’d wanted to prolong it. To let her savor the ravishment.

  But neither of us could wait much longer. Her body wracked with need, and my desperation wrenched the pleasure from her. My self-control waned. I was a slave to my own cock—eager to witness the most beautiful woman in the world surrender her every secret.

  “Enjoy this,” I whispered. “And know there’s so much more that I can offer you.”

  “Like what?”

  Curious little minx. I hummed against her slit and reached upwards, gently caressing the swell of her breast.

  “I wanna show you what it’s like to be completely and thoroughly consumed by a man.” My words edged with gruff intention, but I couldn’t gentle my voice with her so close to the edge. “I’m gonna lay you under me—wrap your legs around my waist. And I’ll bring you to this edge again. Right here. Where it feels right and wrong and perfect and complicated. You won’t know what’s up or down, real or imagined, pain or pleasure. And that’s when I’ll take you. Slide my cock inside this virgin pussy and claim every inch of you for myself.”

  Clover lost herself in delirious excitement. Her body rocked as I teased her slit with quick, staccato motions.

  And then she was coming.

  Shaking. Quivering. Surrendering.

  I dove upon her, driving my tongue deep within her to steal that slippery cream. It wasn’t enough to simply taste this woman. I needed to hear her rushed breathing. To feel her legs clench around me. To see how her body twisted and arched as the pleasure wound her tighter and tighter.

  My tongue pulsed tender circles over her swollen clit as the woman succumbed to my desires.

  “I’ll bury myself inside you,” I promised. “Flesh against flesh. Completely bare. Nothing protecting you from me. And I’ll take you—pump deep. And you’re gonna come again and again, until you can’t think, can’t feel, can’t stop every raging thrust of my cock.”

  I paused, lost in my own fantasy as the woman panted my name and surrendered to my touch.

  “And then I’ll come inside of you.”

  Clover cried out again, slamming over the edge so hard the sheer ferocity of her pleasure rendered her breathless. I grabbed her hands and pinned her to the couch before she could push me away and ravaged her slick petals once more.

  “I’ll fill you with every ounce of my seed,” I whispered. “So deep you won’t know where you end and I begin. And you realize what happens then, don’t you?”

  She nodded, gasping her words. “A baby.”

  “That’s right…” A new determination enthralled me. “I’ll put a baby in you. Our baby.”

  Clover couldn’t handle much more. She squirmed beneath me, tearing at the blankets in a helpless puddle of complete submission. Her eyes could hardly focus, glazed with astonishment and surprise.

  My cock hadn’t hurt this much since my injury.

  But I resisted the urges, no matter how desperately I wished to sink into her heat and prove my devotion.

  I forced my words out with a harsh grunt.

  “How soon can we start?” I asked.

  Her voice broke with a sudden despair. “It’ll be another whole week before I’m fertile.”

  Fertile.

  Christ.

  The word burned through me.

  A fucking fertile virgin. Eager for me. Ready for my seed.

  Her body would be soft and wanting. And she’d surrender it to me. Allow me to take her, ravage her, and change her forever.

  I’d mount her, jet my seed inside her, and then watch with raptured obsession as the evidence of my claim swelled her tummy.

  The woman was stunning now.

  I couldn’t imagine how beautiful she’d look with child.

  My child.

  This was a new and intense craving.

  I’d never wanted to get a woman pregnant before.

  Now?

  I’d throw away my skates and spit on the championship trophy for the chance to make Clover mine.

  I pulled away from the couch, sitting on my heels. Too bad I couldn’t remove my gaze from her swollen, desperate pussy, begging for something thicker than my tongue.

  “Good…” I gritted my teeth and ignored my howling instincts. “Then you have some time to prepare for the night of your life.”

  Clover covered her face with her hands, only now allowing her modesty to close her legs. “I…I think I just had it.”

  I didn’t recognize my feral laugh. “That was only a tease. Imagine the pleasure when I finally make you mine.”

  “You keep making such…lovely promises.”

  “You deserve nothing less…” I leaned over her, claiming her lips for no other reason but my selfish desire to feel her naked warmth pressed against me. “If we’re gonna make a baby, we’re gonna do it right.”

  “Thank you, Adrian.”

  She shouldn’t have thanked me.

  Not for my terrible thoughts.

  Not for my dark desires.

  And not for this.

  Because her next orgasm was for me and my own selfish need.

  And I wouldn’t let her take another breath until dawn.

  “Lay back.” My order was too rough, but she obeyed, her body quivering in anticipation. “You’re mine tonight. The only word I want to hear you speak from now until the sun rises is my name when you come. You got that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wrong word…” I dove between her thighs and punished her clit with a harsh suckle. “If you wanna come, you better learn to obey.”

  Her fists tightened in the couch as I lapped at her petals.

  But she listened.

  She obeyed.

  Surrendered.

  And her lovely voice cried out in shattered ecstasy.

  “Adrian…”

  8

  Clover

  So, what was a girl supposed to wear for her date with a professional hockey player by day and future baby-daddy by night?

  Jeans? A nice dress?

  Or a slinky teddy with lacey bra cups and matching frilly panties hidden beneath an oversized coat?

  I went with the slutty lingerie because I was an idiot.

  Did I honestly think I could just seduce Adrian?

  Wasn’t like I had any idea what I was doing anymore. The last time we’d been together, I’d ended up naked, weeping from orgasms, and literally promising him my first-born child.

  Wanting him was bad enough.

  But wanting him to want me?

  That was the sort of complicated the baby books didn’t cover. They focused more on the whole ovulation and reproductive cycle and less on the awkward conversations leading to the necessary copulation.

  The Friendly Fornication – Mating With Your Best Mate And Other Sticky Surprises

  And here I feared that awkwardness would ruin our friendship. Boy, was I surprised when I realized that embarrassment could turn to pure fucking desire with a single wiggle of a skilled tongue.

  I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the man for a full week. And it’d probably be another month before I could even sit on my couch without the memory of what transpired that night distracting me.

  He’d kissed me in places I didn’t think it was proper to kiss, and still my every thought burned for Adrian. I woke every night in sweaty desperation, and nothing I did for myself even compared to the magic he’d woven deep inside me.

  One evening with him, and I was already a panting mess of humiliating curiosity and panting arousal.

  What would happen after we had real sex?

  Fortunately, Adrian and I were best friends.

  And if best friends could survive puberty, our first prom, and a puck slapping Adrian’s baby-maker so hard our kid would be half-vulcanized rubber, it could survive a couple harmless, life-changing orgasms.

  So, he’d ordered the pizza. I brought my fertile womb. And it seemed a fair trade. Hell, had he tempted me with enough garlic breadstic
ks, I might’ve tried for twins.

  Still, it was the first time I’d ever hesitated when I knocked at his door.

  Turned out, I should’ve come sooner.

  Adrian greeted me with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still dripping water from the shower.

  And I was done for.

  The man was so gorgeous he even stunned the butterflies in my tummy. His presence was electric, like a damned bug zapper disintegrating each of those fluttering hesitations.

  BZZT—there went my voice.

  BZZT—and my ability to breathe.

  BZZT—and any hope of surviving the night without vaporizing my dignity.

  His dark eyes washed over me with a devious delight. But he still had the towel to protect his nudity. The last time we’d met, I’d been the one stripped completely bare.

  And that memory spawned a crooked smile hidden beneath his neatly edged beard.

  It was potentially head-over-heels, fall-on-my-face, this-is-a-mistake trouble to surrender to this man.

  So why hadn’t I done it sooner?

  “Practice ran long.” Adrian held the door open for me. “I just got home.”

  I’d known this man since we were five years old. Why did he now render me speechless?

  I tore my eyes from his only to panic as I spotted the gigantic black and blue bruise painting his left side.

  “Holy Moly…” My purse plunked to the ground. “Did you get hit by the Zamboni?”

  Usually, I would’ve poked him. He was never honest about his injuries, but a good jab of my finger helped to gauge how badly he hurt.

  But today…I backed off.

  Couldn’t imagine touching those hard-packed muscles, even if I’d lay beneath them later.

  A warm shiver delighted my spine. I bit my lip, and Adrian mercifully spoke.

  “It’s nothing…” He did his best to position his arm so I couldn’t see the brunt of the injury. “Cash did his job; I just got in the way. But at least he’s taking the workouts seriously.”

  “Cash Harrington takes hitting people a little too seriously.”

  “Yeah. Be glad he’s on my team this year.”

  I tightened my grip on the coat, praying he couldn’t tell that I had very, very little on underneath…and what was hiding my shame had long since drenched in my own anticipation.

  He guided me into his beautiful home. My heels struck the tile, and he turned on the overhead chandelier, cascading thousands of pearlescent droplets of light over the foyer.

  …Just enough light to prevent me from stumbling into a stack of a dozen wrinkled and splitting boxes.

  Good Lord. He hadn’t unpacked yet?

  But what grand Tuscan foyer wasn’t complete without an intricate white marble floor, a double wrought iron staircase, and piles of U-Haul boxes haphazardly stuffed with whatever had happened to be within Adrian’s reach at the time.

  Was he kidding me? He’d been moved in for weeks.

  The house was a mess of packing tape and unused bubble wrap. He’d decorated with equipment bags and spare hockey sticks strewn about the entryway. Left to his own devices, he’d created a set of dresser drawers from cardboard boxes and left them in the middle of the hall. Shirts and jeans overflowed onto the patterned tile, and I hoped, for his sake, he’d packed them when they were clean.

  Leave it to Adrian to move into a beautiful home full of elegance, style, and charm…and completely disregard all responsibility that came with it.

  To love the man was to understand his uncompromising obsession with hockey. Life was the game. He woke up only to practice, he practiced only to win games, he won games solely for a chance at a championship, and he played each season so he’d be better than the last. This left no time for anything beyond hockey.

  No dating. No homelife. No hobbies or friends beyond the team.

  It’d made him a star player on the ice…but outside of the arena, it was like he didn’t exist.

  Like he had no reason to exist.

  Even worse, he ignored the horrendous bruise spreading across his miraculously unbroken ribs. Any pain from the game just reminded him of his purpose.

  Which he believed was solely meant to be forged with the Forge.

  I loved my best friend, and, because of that, I’d trusted him to help me have a baby.

  But I never realized how much Adrian needed a family.

  How much he needed something beyond the ice.

  “Looks like a nasty bruise. Are you sure you’re…” I bit my lip. “Up to doing this tonight?”

  “It’ll take another puck to the balls to stop me tonight.”

  The man had a dastardly smile which was delivered just to torment me.

  Great. My wobbily knees had a hard enough time meandering through his house. Last thing I needed was Adrian melting my ovaries before we got a chance to use them.

  Adrian offered to take my coat. No way. Not yet. I knotted the belt even tighter.

  “Hopefully, our night together will be relatively painless,” I said.

  “You’re the only woman worth any pain.”

  “Should I be flattered?”

  “You’re the one who busted my balls day in and day out before the injury. I’m used to your abuse.”

  “Gotta know what pain is to feel pleasure, right?”

  Adrian’s rumbling chuckle tickled me with goosebumps. “And what would you know about pleasure?”

  “Had a pretty thorough lesson the other night.”

  “That was nothing in comparison to what’s to come.”

  My mouth dried. “Again with the promises.”

  “Have I disappointed you yet?”

  That was an easy answer. “You’ve never once disappointed me, Adrian Alaric.”

  It didn’t displease him, but his expression still darkened with severity.

  “You have expectations for tonight. I want to defy those expectations.”

  He crossed his arms, and his heavy muscles hardened. Somehow the towel still clung to his waist, secured with only a hap-hazard roll along his hip. I longed for it to fail, but gravity merely teased me.

  “You must think I have a dirty mind…” I timidly smiled. “Because I don’t know what to expect.”

  “You haven’t imagined anything?”

  Fantasies were one thing.

  But here? In proximity to the towel that hid the delights beneath the twin Vs of his hips? Overactive was an understatement. Problematic seemed a better word, and dangerous a far more apt description of the memories and fantasies blending into a haze of desire.

  “Honestly, I’m hoping I just survive tonight,” I said.

  “Me too.”

  Adrian approached me, and the wash of his aftershave dizzied me with the timeless scent of whiskey and tobacco. My body instinctively tensed.

  Was there nothing about this man that didn’t destroy me in the best ways?

  “Clover, think of this as any other night together…only, at the end of this evening…we don’t have to say goodbye.”

  Adrian brushed his hand against my cheek, proving this was unlike any other night. His touch was warm, but it spread like fire through me, sizzling from my cheek, down my spine, and deep into my core.

  He made it seem so easy. So deliciously tempting and natural.

  I nodded, reaching for him. I didn’t get far. My fingers barely grazed his injured ribs, and he jerked away. His profanity was as colorful as the bruise. The towel nearly slipped, but my attention focused only on his wince.

  “You’re really sore,” I said.

  “It’s just a hit. I’m always bruised during the season.”

  “Well, the season hasn’t even started yet.” And I’d prepared myself for the worst. Adrian had a bad habit of sacrificing his body for the team. “Turn around. Let me see the bruise.”

  “No.”

  “Adrian.”

  “Clover.”

  I wasn’t playing. “Turn around. Let me see…”

  I
wished I hadn’t asked.

  Really wished he hadn’t obeyed.

  The ugly bruise spread from his back to his shoulder. Black, blue, green, yellow, purple. His side looked like a damned oil slick in a puddle, and if he didn’t drop the act and let me tend to him, I’d give him another bruise to match on the opposite side.

  I sighed. “Get your ass on the couch. Where’s your ice?”

  “I’m fine.”

  So much for our date. I kicked off my heels and rolled the sleeves up on my coat. The bulky material didn’t stay in place, and I wasn’t about to fight it and him. I tore at the belt and slipped from the coat, ignoring the sudden chill that knotted with the blasted heat boiling in my core. I cast the jacket to the ground and prayed Adrian wouldn’t think my attire was too bizarre.

  No dice.

  The cream teddy was a beautiful shade of silky white that contrasted every inch of my dark skin. The lacy cups barely contained my breasts, and my hips wiggled the material a little too high up, revealing panties with crisscrossed little straps that barely covered my booty.

  Adrian choked, a sound halfway between gasp of surprise and a vulgar profanity which should’ve stayed in the locker room.

  “What…Clover…” His eyes hungrily devoured every inch of my exposed skin. The thickness tenting his towel must’ve imagined the rest. “What are you wearing?”

  “This…” I grimaced. “I thought you’d like it.”

  He didn’t even blink. “My car keys, house keys, and credit card are in my pants upstairs. They’re yours if you promise to never wear anything else ever again.”

  I pointed to the couch. “Sit down before I finish what Cash started.”

  His gaze feasted over me. “Is this your idea of dirty talk?”

  “Anything I say in this ridiculous outfit would sound dirty.”

  “So what do I have to do to keep you talking?”

  The man would be lucky if I didn’t pelt him with the ice his side desperately needed. “Sit. I’ll be back.”

  Adrian tugged on his towel. The terrycloth couldn’t hide the erection. “Yeah, I shouldn’t be standing. The blood’s drained out of my head…”

  I wasn’t flirting. He knew better than to let an injury like that go without treatment. I raided his kitchen for the usual post-game recovery toolkit—ibuprofen, ice packs, and goldfish crackers.