Heartless

by Jennifer Sucevic

You bet Megan’s perfectly round ass I have. The girl is a walking wet dream.

  And from what the guys on the team tell me (because they’re a bunch of loudmouth assholes who like to brag), she can suck a dick like nobody’s business. That being said, I won’t be finding that out firsthand anytime soon. I’ve made it a point to steer clear of Megan because every time I look at her, I see Emerson.

  And imagining that I’m nailing my best friend is a definite no-no.

  When I don’t immediately respond, Megan grinds her bubble butt against my junk. Unfortunately, just the thought of Emerson is enough to have me popping wood.

  It’s a messed-up situation.

  One that Em is blissfully unaware of. Which is exactly the way it needs to stay. She can’t find out that I’ve got the hots for her. Emerson Shaw is one of the first friends I made when Mom and I moved to Lakefield the summer before freshman year of high school. And we’ve been tight ever since.

  While I enjoy having a casual, friends-with-benefits relationship with a number of girls on campus, I’ve never considered sleeping with Em.

  So maybe I’ve considered having sex with her. It would be hard not to imagine stripping her naked and getting jiggy with a girl who looks like that, but I’ve never done anything about it.

  I’ve screwed too many women not to know that getting naked changes a relationship. And I like Em way too much to risk sleeping with her. She’s the one person who has always had my back. And let’s face it, I can be a hell of a lot more honest with her than my teammates.

  Can you imagine me baring my soul to those assholes?

  Exactly. I’d never hear the end of it.

  My friendship with Emerson also gives me all this insight into the female psyche that I wouldn’t otherwise be privy to. It’s like taking a peek behind the magic curtain. I’m not willing to throw that away when there are plenty of random chicks I can get my rocks off with.

  Moral of the story—friends are a lot harder to come by than hookups.

  “Reed?” Megan nips my lower lip between her sharp teeth before giving it a gentle tug and releasing it.

  I blink back to the girl wriggling around on my lap. “Yeah?”

  Her hands flutter to my shoulders before settling on them. “You’re so tense.”

  Damn right I am. All I can think about is Emerson and that is all kinds of wrong.

  “Let’s go upstairs.” Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips as she whispers, “I know exactly what will fix that.”

  If any other girl were making the offer, I’d already be dragging her up the staircase to my bedroom. But that’s not going to happen with Megan. There’s no way I can fuck around with someone who is a dead ringer for Emerson.

  I just can’t do it. Maybe I’m not technically doing anything wrong, but it still feels like I’m breaking some kind of friendship rule. She may not realize I’m thinking about her like that, but I do.

  And that’s all that matters.

  Guess I’ll have to find a different girl to get busy with. Preferably a flat-chested blonde with big blue eyes who doesn’t resemble Em. Or maybe a redhead, just to mix things up a bit.

  Megan’s eyes light up when I set my beer down and wrap my hands around her waist before carefully removing her from my lap. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ve got homework to finish up for tomorrow.” I tack on the lie to soften the blow. “Maybe another time?”

  Her face falls. “Sure, no problem.”

  Before she can pin me down on a time and place, I beat a hasty retreat from the living room and head upstairs. Once I’ve taken refuge in my room, I fire off a text to one of my go-to girls.

  Fifteen minutes later, my booty call for the evening strolls through the door.

  Know what I like most about Candace?

  The girl gets right down to business. There’s no need for small talk and that, I can appreciate. I’m in the mood to fuck. Not debate world politics or climate change.

  The door hasn’t even closed and Candace is already shedding her clothes. Since she hasn’t bothered with a bra, her titties bounce free as soon as her shirt is discarded. Her nips stiffen right up when the cool air hits them.

  It’s a beautiful sight to behold.

  Except…

  Nothing stirs south of the border. Not like it did when I was thinking about a certain someone downstairs who shall remain nameless. But I’m not concerned. I just need to harness my mental capabilities and focus on the task at hand. Which is getting my dick to work properly.

  I yank off my T-shirt and toss it to the floor as Candace flicks open the button of her teeny-tiny shorts before unzipping them. With her gaze locked on mine, she shimmies out of them.

  And wouldn’t you know it…

  No panties in sight.

  Just a gloriously bare pussy.

  Works for me.

  Well, that’s what normally works for me.

  At the moment, limp dick-itis has set in.

  Once Candace has stripped down to her birthday suit, she struts her sexy stuff toward the bed where I’ve made myself comfortable. Her eyelids lower as a knowing smirk curves her red slicked lips. I rake my gaze over her toned body.

  The girl is absolutely perfect.

  “I’ve missed you.” She crawls across the mattress until her hands are resting against my bare chest. “I’m glad you texted.”

  She says that now, but it probably won’t be the case when she gets her hands on my junk. I keep waiting for my dick to rise to the occasion, but it doesn’t stir.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I thought this kind of thing only happened to older dudes. I’m way too young for Viagra. I’ve seen first-hand how that shit can mess you up.

  No, thank you.

  As a joke last year, one of the jackasses on my team got his hands on a couple of those little blue pills and slipped them to one of the freshman players. The poor guy was sporting wood for days. Unfortunately, a trip to the emergency room became necessary. When Coach R was apprised of the situation, he reamed our asses good and threatened to bench the entire team for the season. We skated suicides until our legs practically fell off.

  Candy trails her purple tipped fingernails down my chest before pushing me against the mattress and straddling my torso. Then she leans over and licks a wet trail down my body until reaching the waistband of my athletic shorts. This encounter is going to nosedive real quick if I can’t get it up in record speed. Not knowing what else to do, I squeeze my eyes tight as an unwanted image of Emerson pops into my head.

  Dark hair, lush curves, bright smile.

  Candace chuckles as she pulls my hard length from my boxer-briefs like it’s a much-anticipated Christmas gift. “There’s my big boy!”

  I groan.

  I am so screwed.

  The Breakup Plan

  Chapter One

  Gray

  I lift the bottle of beer to my lips and take a swig while scouting the vicinity. It’s Saturday night and I’ve got my arm wrapped around a pretty girl who’s more than willing to spend a little quality naked-time with yours truly. I glance down at the strawberry blonde-haired chick who is busy pawing at me like a kitten. When our gazes meet, she flutters her lashes and makes a mewling noise.

  Savannah is one of my go-to girls.

  We have a strict no-strings attached policy.

  I’m thinking about taking her up to my room when I catch a flash of dark hair from the corner of my eye. My head snaps in that direction and I’m surprised I don’t come away with whiplash.

  My brows shoot up.

  Well, I’ll be damned.

  I never thought I’d live to see the day that Whitney Winters willingly graced one of our parties with her presence. I’m tempted to check and see if pigs are flying out of someone’s ass because that’s the only reasonable explanation.

  I narrow my eyes, watching her while she’s unaware of my scrutiny. Whitney is hot as hell, with long hair that hits the middle of her back and espresso-colored eyes th
at dominate her face. She has a slim build, which I will fully admit is not my usual type. I like a girl with nice round titties. Whitney doesn’t have much of that going on.

  I’ve never been able to figure out what it is about her that I find so damn attractive. And trust me, I’ve tried. More times than I care to admit. It’s aggravating as hell to be into a girl who wants nothing to do with you. It’s like having an itch I can never quite scratch. No matter how many chicks I fuck, I can’t evict this particular one from my brain.

  “Gray?” Savannah purrs, trying to reclaim my interest. “Do you want to get out of here?” She walks her fingers up my chest.

  “Huh?” I hate to say it, but I almost forgot she was there. That’s what Whitney does to me. I watch the dark-haired girl maneuver through the crowd. She’s yet to spot me. And when she does, it’s doubtful she’ll be dancing for joy.

  More like the opposite.

  I have no idea why that should turn me on, but it does. Everything around me falls away as I continue to watch her with undisguised interest.

  “I asked if you wanted to get out of here,” she murmurs again, her voice laced with impatience. Savannah isn’t used to being ignored. She’s a girl who commands attention.

  When I don’t immediately shoot back with an answer, the fingers that had been trailing over my chest settle under my chin and manually turn my face so that I have no other choice but to meet her eyes.

  Seriously?

  My forehead furrows.

  I’m not into bossy chicks.

  “Why don’t we take this little party upstairs for a while?” The sly look in her eyes reveals all the dirty tricks she’s got planned for me. I’ve been with Savannah enough times to know that she’ll make good on those silent promises.

  The girl is an absolute beast in bed.

  As piqued as my interest had been a few moments ago, I’m going to take a hard pass on what she’s offering. She thrusts out her lower lip in a sexy pout when I pry her hand away from my face.

  My eyes dart to Whitney as she stops and takes in the chaos unfolding around her. People are drinking and dancing. The bar has been stocked and shots are being passed around. There’s a group in the corner playing beer pong and if the skunky scent permeating the air is any indication, there’s more than just alcohol being served. Clothing has yet to be shed, but it’s only a matter of time before that happens.

  Whitney’s gaze continues to slide around the room until it collides with mine. That one look sends a bolt of electricity shooting through my body. Which is fucking ridiculous, but still…

  That’s exactly what happens.

  Every damn time.

  Until I can figure out what it is about her that fascinates me, there’s no way I can move on. Been there, done that. Nothing works. Besides, quitting isn’t in my nature and I love a good challenge. And Whitney is nothing if not a challenge. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I was willing to throw in the towel when shit got tough. That thought is enough to have my lips bowing up at the corners.

  Making a calculated move that’s sure to piss her off, I hold up my beer and tip it in her direction. The girl doesn’t disappoint, not that I thought she would. Whitney’s lips flatten as her glare morphs into a scowl. Instead of turning away, she continues to glower in my direction.

  It’s like we’re engaged in a silent game of chicken from across the room. The longer she holds my eyes, refusing to back down, the more my cock stirs with interest.

  Or challenge.

  Take your pick.

  My attraction for her is seriously perverse. Don’t think I’m not aware of it. I just don’t give a damn.

  “Gray,” Savannah whines. “I’m bored. Let’s get out of here.”

  There’s no way in hell that’s happening.

  I lift the beer to my lips, draining it before shaking the empty bottle. “Hey, would you mind getting me another one of these?”

  “Sure.” She nips the bottle from my fingers and disappears through the packed living room. Now that she’s gone, I consider my game plan. Before I can take off in Whitney’s direction, my friend and teammate, Collins O’Brien, sidles up to me with a couple of guys from the team.

  We share a house off-campus. We’re notorious for hosting the most outrageous parties at Hillsdale. Although this year, I’m looking to take it down a notch. I’ve got enough shit going on with graduation and the draft in the spring. This upcoming season will be my final one playing defense for the school. Not only do we need to have a winning record, we need to bring home the Frozen Four Championship.

  Goals. You gotta have them, baby. And I do.

  It goes a little something like this—I crush the upcoming season, staying laser focused on hockey. I get snapped up in the first or second round of the draft, play in the pros for a solid decade, and rake in the money.

  Sounds pretty sweet, right?

  You bet your ass it does.

  Right now, I’m so freaking close to making it happen that I can almost taste it. I spent the last decade focused on hockey and clawing my way to the NHL. When you have doctors tell you that you’ll never achieve your dreams, you dig deep and make those dreams a reality for the sole purpose of shoving their prognosis right down their egotistical throats while you tell them all to fuck off.

  Not that you’ll hear it from me, but I’ve already attained the impossible by being out on the ice. I don’t like talking or thinking about the accident. It took years to work my way back to a place I’d always taken for granted. It’s almost amazing how life can change in the blink of an eye. It’s like playing a game of Chutes and Ladders. One minute you’re on top of the world and the next you’re sliding down a chute and back to square one.

  I shake my head, needing to clear away those ugly memories.

  I don’t make a habit of looking backwards.

  Only forward.

  Playing at Hillsdale is the sweet buttercream frosting on a triple chocolate cake.

  And the NHL will be the fucking cherry on top.

  A whole goddamn jar of them.

  “Hey,” Collins says by way of greeting.

  “What’s up?” I ask without taking my eyes off Whitney. It would be just my luck to lose her in this jam-packed crowd. I’ll be damned if I allow that to happen.

  When he elbows me in the side, my gaze shoots in his direction. Once he has my attention, he grins and waggles his brows like the asshole that he is.

  Obviously, the object of my interest has not gone unnoticed.

  Great.

  The last thing I need is an audience waiting with bated breath for me to crash and burn. Especially with this girl. She’s liable to wipe the floor with my ass before handing it back to me. Then I’d never hear the end of it from these jokers.

  “Damn, but that girl is hot with a capital H,” Mike, a sophomore defensive player, says before lifting the beer to his lips and draining half of it. The way he looks Whitney up and down sets me on edge.

  And it shouldn’t.

  I’ve never cared enough about a chick to feel jealousy where one was concerned. Hell, I’ve boned a good number of the same girls as my teammates. Which is exactly why my number one rule is to wrap it up tight. God only knows what gets passed around.

  “Yeah, that’s definitely one ass I’d like to tap.” Justin Tinley gyrates his hips like he’s in seventh grade and has no idea what he’s doing. “All night long.”

  My jaw locks as I glare. “Shut the fuck up, Tinley.”

  Justin glances at me in surprise and shrugs. “What?” he says, too clueless to understand why I’m jumping down his throat. “I’m just saying that I would do her.”

  Collins smirks. He gets it. “That doesn’t mean much,” Collins laughs. “Show me a girl you wouldn’t do.”

  His words break the tension that had been gathering in the air like storm clouds and I roll my shoulders before making a concerted effort to relax them. I’ve never had a girl jack me up like this. Whitney is an anomaly. Most of the t
ime, chicks are interchangeable. One pussy is as good as the next.

  “Can’t.” Justin glances around the crowded first floor of our house. “I’d do all of them.”

  “Yeah, but the real question is how many of them would do you?” Collins shoots back.

  Justin gives him the finger. “I’m getting another beer.” Then he stumbles off toward the kitchen.

  On his way, he makes the mistake of grabbing a girl’s ass. Before he can move on, the chick in question whirls around and slaps him squarely across the face. Tinley’s mouth falls open as Collins and I collapse in laughter.

  Fucking Tinley…

  It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to discover he’s a virgin. In fact, I’d be shocked to learn that he actually gets some.

  As if reading my thoughts, Collins shakes his head. “That guy is never going to get laid.”

  “I don’t see it happening anytime soon,” I agree. Which is funny as hell because most of the guys on the hockey team are drowning in pussy. Girls throw themselves at us. And yet…Justin Tinley can’t get laid to save his life.

  There’s definitely no clitty pity for that guy.

  Collins glances at Whitney and smirks. “Looks like you and Monroe have your eye on the same girl.”

  I straighten to my full height.

  What the hell does that mean?

  My eyes snap back to Whitney just in time to see her flash a smile at Evert Monroe.

  Well, fuck me.

  Looks like Collins is right.

  Why haven’t I notice this before?

  Evert is one of my roommates. He’s a decent enough guy. Solid hockey player. I’ve never had any problems with him.

  At least I didn’t before.

  Now?

  I’m not so sure. We’ll see how this situation shakes out. Normally, there’s nothing I love more than a little competition. Especially if it involves a chick.

  Hell, bring it on.

  But Whitney is different.

  I’ve screwed the pooch where she’s concerned.

  Whitney’s been on my radar from the moment I stepped foot on campus. She’s not one to hang out at the games or parties where we congregate. And she hasn’t slept her way through the Hellcat team roster like most of the jersey chasers around here.