Pucking Parker (Face-Off Legacy Book 1)

by Jillian Quinn

  “Wanna get out of here?” I ask her.

  She nods. “As if you had to ask.”

  Thirty minutes later, I pull up out front of the house I share with my teammates. The old Victorian has three floors, a covered porch, and a massive yard. For once, it’s not littered with beer bottles or cigarettes from people passing by on their way to Greek Row.

  “Wait here,” I tell Bex, running my hand up her thigh. “I’ll come around and get you.”

  She frowns. “I don’t need help getting out of the car, Parker.”

  “You looked kind of dangerous in those heels on our way out of the club.”

  She chuckles. “That’s because I’m not used to them.”

  I remove my hand from her leg and open my car door. “Just let me help you, okay? The pavement is cracked in certain parts along this street. I don’t want you to get your heel stuck in one of them and break your leg.”

  “Aww.” She holds her hand over her heart and smiles. “That’s sweet, even for you.”

  I shrug. “I have my moments.”

  After I switch off the ignition and push open the door, I make my way around to the other side of the car. I hold out my hand for Bex, and she takes it, allowing me to help her up from the bucket seat. She cups my shoulders, using them to stabilize herself.

  “I think I’m good,” she says, her lips inches from mine.

  Fuck, I’m not.

  Our eyes meet and electricity skates along my skin. Ignoring her comment, I slip my fingers between hers and lead her toward the house. I wasn’t kidding about cracks in the pavement. A girl fell out front last year after one of our parties and broke her tibia.

  She staggers, even with me holding onto her. We only had a few beers. Bex isn’t drunk. For a girl who’s so light on her feet on the court, she sure as hell seems out of her element in heels.

  Worried she’ll twist her ankle, I lift Bex up and sling her over my shoulder, as if she weighs nothing.

  “Hey.” She hits me playfully on my back. “Put me down, Parker. I can walk on my own.”

  “I’m sure you can. But I’m not taking any chances with you. How would I explain this to your dad if something happened to you while you were at my house?”

  She groans. “Okay, fine. If it makes you feel better.”

  “It does.”

  I jog up the front steps of the old Victorian and then set her on the ground to retrieve my keys from my pocket. Once inside, I survey the situation. None of my teammates are in the living room. Or the dining room. Weird.

  The kitchen is empty. Then I remember they went to a party at one of the fraternity houses.

  I reach into the refrigerator to grab two bottles of water and a carton of strawberries. Kicking the door shut with my foot, I move toward the island in the center of the kitchen. Bex waits for me, with a devious look in her eyes.

  “Hungry?” I place the food and drinks on the counter behind her, intentionally reaching around her so she can’t move.

  She smirks. “You going to feed me?”

  I lift her up by her ass, ripping a loud scream from her lips, and set her down on the counter. Moving between her legs, I push them wider, making room for myself. Bex moans when I rub her thighs. Her entire body trembles. She’s so responsive to my touch.

  I lift a strawberry from the carton and hold it up to her mouth. She sticks out her tongue to lick the fruit.

  “Fuck, you’re killing me,” I hiss.

  She bites into the strawberry, eating it so slow I can’t take my eyes off her mouth. The second she finishes it my lips crash against hers. Our tongues work in harmony, and the remnants of the strawberry tastes good in my mouth. She smells so sweet I want to lick every inch of her beautiful body.

  She sits back, ending my exploration of her mouth, and pulls her top over her head, dropping it on the counter. And she’s not wearing a bra. Her breasts are full, more than a handful, her nipples hardened peaks. I lick my lips, liking what I see. She’s perfect, all mine. At least for tonight.

  Bex leans forward, working on the buttons of my dress shirt. She flips them open one at a time, her eyes fixed on my chest. I shake it off and let it fall to the floor. Her delicate fingers make contact with my skin, and my dick grows harder against my jeans. The physical agony she’s putting me through makes me work faster.

  I retrieve a condom from my wallet and then strip my boxers and jeans, now working on getting rid of Bex’s clothes. When I slip my fingers beneath the band of her shorts, she lifts her hips. In one quick motion, I remove her panties and shorts, throwing them behind me.

  Resuming my position between her legs, I bend down to suck on her nipple, taking it between my teeth, nibbling on it while I massage her other breast. She moans so loud I can’t think straight. Kissing my way to her mouth, I open her legs wider and push two fingers inside her wetness. And I’m officially dead, because her pussy is so fucking sweet. So damn wet.

  “Preston,” she purrs against my lips. “Ahh, yes… keep doing that.”

  I smile at her words, her pleasure my primary focus. If all we have is tonight, I want her to remember me for the rest of her life. I want her to realize one time will not be enough. Because I’m not so sure I can have sex with Bex once. The closer we become, the more I need her in my life.

  “Oh, my… I’m gonna—” Her words die off in her throat.

  “Yeah, that’s it, baby.” I add another finger, my pace quickening. Dipping my head down to kiss her neck, I mutter, “Your pussy feels so fucking good. Come for me. Strangle my fingers like they’re my cock.”

  She moans in response, her mouth open and her head tilted up to the ceiling. Her body tightens and then trembles. Bex rocks her hips against my hand, and my fingers push further, filling her completely. Her orgasm shakes through me, heightening my pleasure. My dick is rock hard and digging into her thigh. She finishes seconds later with a chunk of my hair fisted in her hands.

  With her juices coating my fingers, I raise them to my mouth to taste. “Fuck, Bex. You taste as good as you feel. I said it would be one time, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get you out of my head.”

  “You know the deal, Preston.”

  She has a smart ass look on her face, so I wipe it away by pulling down her bottom lip and smear her juices across it.

  “I’m not good at following rules.”

  Her eyes flicker with acknowledgment. In this moment, she doesn’t give a shit about rules or deals. Neither of us do.

  “Taste yourself,” I order, holding out my fingers to her.

  Hesitant, she sticks out her tongue and licks her lips. A seductive look reaches up to her blue eyes.

  “That’s a good girl.” I fist my cock in my hand, rubbing it along her slick folds, and she stares down, taking in my size. Her eyes widen, and she bites her bottom lip.

  Desperate to be inside her, I reach for the condom on the counter and roll it down my length. Her lips part as I inch into her, the look on her face so sexy, I hope I don’t come on the spot.

  “You feel so…” Closing my eyes, I can’t even get the words out.

  “Good,” she whispers.

  “Yesss… so fucking good.” I rest my forehead against hers, pushing through her inner walls, stretching her out. “You’re so wet for me. So fucking tight. It’s like fucking a… virgin.”

  “I’m not,” she whimpers, one eye closed as I fill her. “The rumors about you are true about you.” She digs her fingers into my shoulder and chokes out. “I can’t believe I’m pucking Parker.”

  I almost laugh at her comment, assuming I heard wrong and the beer has gone to my head.

  She feels amazing, soaking wet and tight, milking my cock with her pussy. Gripping her hips, I slam into her, and she scream. Every time she says my name, I fuck her harder, faster. I can’t get enough of her pussy. I try not to think about how good it feels, or how much I never want to stop, because I need to last.

  When I can’t take it anymore, but I don’t want to come ye
t, I pull out of her and flip her over. Holding her thighs apart, I take my time, making slow deliberate movements. I watch my cock slide out of her dripping wet pussy. Palm her ass with my hands and spread her wider. She looks at me over her shoulder and bites her bottom lip.

  The carnal look in her eyes fuels my hunger. Slowly, like a ball of string unraveling, Bex loses control. And it’s perfect. The sexy sounds she makes. How tight she grips my cock with her pussy. The moans I rip from her lips.

  I’m lost to Bex Bryant. So fucking done. And when I come, I know it won’t be this one time. I have to make her see that once will never be enough. For either of us.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bex

  I creep down the stairs in front of Preston, wearing his Strickland Senators ice hockey T-shirt. His last name is on the back along with his number—eighty-five. It even smells like him. His musky, manly scent fills my nostrils, and I know I’m screwed when I take one big whiff. I’m becoming too comfortable around Preston. He makes me want things I never thought of before, which is dangerous.

  Doing my best to keep quiet, I take my time going down the stairs, hoping no one is in the living room. No such luck. Several pairs of eyes land on me. Preston’s teammates stare at me hard, their gazes intense. Because they know me. Realization crosses their faces, a few of them winking over my shoulder at Preston.

  Ugh, what was I thinking?

  “You never saw me,” I tell the room full of half-dressed hockey players. “I was never here. Got it?”

  A few of them nod, while two others grunt in acknowledgment.

  But the hot blond, with insane leg muscles, begins to slow clap. What are we in an 80’s movie right now?

  “Way to go, Parker,” the annoying clapper says. “Coach Bryant’s daughter.”

  Another guy whistles. “Banging Coach’s daughter is better than a hat trick.”

  I think over his comment for a second and realize he’s not talking about a hat trick in hockey, more like Preston having sex with the three girls, and want to run.

  Oh, my God get me out of here.

  I stop at the bottom landing and shoot Preston a warning glance.

  “Bex is just a friend,” he tells them. “Don’t open your fucking mouths around Coach.”

  “You got it, Cap,” a dark-haired boy says.

  Preston is the captain of the men’s ice hockey team. Most of his friends either call him Cap or Prez, which doesn’t make sense to me since there’s not a z in his name.

  Preston hooks his arm around my back and whispers in my ear, “You might as well stay for breakfast now that most of the team knows you slept here.”

  I cringe at the thought of anyone finding out about last night. The last thing I want is to become one of Parker’s puck bunnies. Nope, not happening.

  I laugh. “I’m kind of scared of you cooking.”

  He smirks. “I can’t cook. But Shannon does. She’s been here every morning for the last few days.”

  I tip my nose in the air, taking in the scent of what smells like bacon. “I guess I can hang out for a few more minutes.”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You guess?”

  “Last night was a one-time thing,” I say under my breath.

  “You mentioned that already. Several times last night. Every time I—”

  I hold out my hand to silence him. “Don’t finish that sentence.” Turning to face him, I continue, “We can’t do this again, so you don’t get any ideas.”

  “You’re impossible, Bex.” He slaps my ass and pushes me further into the room. “C’mon, girl, I’m starving. Get your sweet ass in that kitchen.”

  I chuckle at his comment and walk alongside him to the kitchen, where we find Shannon cooking up a storm. She spins around from the stove, spatula in hand. A crowd of gargantuan hockey players are seated at the island, where Preston fed me. Fucked me.

  Thinking about last night, and what we did on the kitchen island, causes my juices to pool between my legs. Preston was amazing. At everything. It was literally the best night of my life, one I will never forget.

  “Hey, Bex,” Shannon lilts. “You have no idea how happy I am to see another woman right now.” She points the spatula in Jamie’s direction. “These guys have been giving me hell all morning.”

  “No, we haven’t,” Jamie says.

  “Yes, you have,” she challenges, with a smile. “There’s way too much testosterone in this kitchen right now.”

  “If by giving you hell you mean admiring you from afar, then I guess I am.” Jamie licks his lips. “Turn around so I can admire you some more.”

  She laughs at his stupidity, shaking off his comment, and glances at me. “See what I’ve been dealing with? Anyway, you hungry? I made enough bacon and sausage for you and Parker.”

  I rub my stomach. “I can eat.”

  Her face brightens. “What kind of eggs do you want?”

  “Scrambled,” Preston and me say at the same time.

  “Oh, look at you two,” Shannon says. “How cute? Pretty soon you’ll be finishing each other’s sentences.”

  “Ah, no… we’re not together,” I spit out.

  She looks at me, then Preston, and smiles. “Well, you should be.”

  “Unwritten Coach rules,” Jamie says, and Preston looks as though he wants to choke him for mentioning it.

  Because Preston knew that was between us. Except he didn’t keep his word.

  “You told them?” Annoyed, I take a seat at the circular table in the corner of the kitchen.

  “Yeah, sorry.” He pulls out a chair and slides it over until our legs are touching. “They’re like my brothers. None of them will say a word. I promise.” He says the last part staring into my eyes, and I believe him.

  “What unwritten rules?” Shannon asks Jamie.

  I let out a frustrated sigh and then give Preston the okay to inform Shannon of my father’s rules. Everyone in the room stares at me, and it’s super weird.

  “Hmm…” Shannon says. “How come your dad has these rules? Did you hook up with one of his players or something?”

  I look away from her for a second, considering my next words. Too many people are staring at me, this situation making me uncomfortable.

  “Something like that,” I mutter.

  “Really?” Preston chimes. “You never told me that.”

  “It wasn’t anyone on his college team, so I didn’t think it was important.”

  “Does he still play hockey?”

  I nod.

  “For a college team?”

  I nod again.

  Preston scrunches his nose. “Do I know him?”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Yep.”

  “And you’re not gonna tell me,” Preston says.

  “Nope.”

  “Can I at least get a hint? What team does he play for?”

  “Why do you care, Parker? It’s not like we’re dating. We’re barely even friends.”

  The entire room goes silent, all of them now looking at me in equal bewilderment as Preston. I reach out to touch his arm, and he sits back in his chair, dodging me.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to be so rude. I’m sorry, okay? I just don’t want to talk about it. Not now, anyway.”

  “Did he hurt you?” He lowers his voice to a whisper and cups my knee in his big hands. “Because if he did, I will destroy him.”

  How do I answer this question?

  “Can we talk about this later? Maybe when no one else is around?”

  Or never. That would be preferable.

  He forces a smile for my benefit. “Sure. How about I feed you then walk you back to the dorms?”

  “Sounds good. I have practice this afternoon.”

  “Me, too. Your dad is all about us being on time.”

  I return his smile. “He hates it when people are late.”

  My dad also hates when people defy him. Like we did last night. Over and over again.

  Preston drops his intrusion of my past. At l
east for now. It’s only a matter of time before I have to tell him about Kellan. And when he finds out the truth, he will lose his shit.

  “Stop acting like Kobe and pass the ball, Bryant,” Coach Vaughn yells at me.

  Whenever I hog the ball, my coach tells me that I’m living up to my last name and acting like Kobe Bryant. His comments make me laugh every time.

  I shake my head and chuckle, dribbling the ball once more, before I pass it to Taylor. She catches the ball and palms it in her hands. She pivots her left foot, and then lowers her stance, leaning into the girl behind her. Making some room, Taylor bounces the ball. She twists her body in an awkward position as she spins, and then grabs hold of the ball again to make the layup. Our three-man team wins.

  Coach Vaughn blows the whistle. “Okay, ladies, huddle up.”

  We gather around him and await his next instruction. Sweat slides down my face and runs into my eyes. Using my jersey, I wipe my forehead and cheeks. The gym feels about a hundred degrees with how hard we’ve played today. Or maybe it’s the hangover kicking my ass. I’m probably sweating out the alcohol from last night.

  “Bryant, you have to pass the ball this weekend. If you want to be a champion, you have to act like one.”

  I sigh. “I know, Coach. Sorry, I’m a little off my game today.”

  He nods. “You can say that.”

  “I’ll be on my A game,” I promise.

  “I hope so,” he says, and then his eyes shift to the rest of the group. “Okay, ladies, I want to see the last two teams on the court right now.”

  The six of us, who were on the court, walk over to the bench, dead tired. We’ve been going at it for hours non-stop and with little breaks.

  Mental note—no more drinking the night before practice.

  I never do stupid shit like this. I also never hook up with disgustingly sexy hockey players either. So, there’s that. I have to purge Preston from my system… if possible.

  “You okay?” Taylor asks me.

  I take a sip from my water bottle. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. Late night.”

  “You look like hell.”

  I roll my eyes at her, and then drizzle some of the water over my head. “Thanks a lot. You know, we all can’t be like you and drink all night and crush it.”