I need so much more of this.
He kisses me like he owns me. Tasting me over and over and over until I'm dizzy with desire, melting into his hard body, letting him hold me up. And he is definitely holding me up…for now.
Maybe he can read my mind because he presses me back down onto the chaise and crawls on top of me. Not crushing me but caging me in underneath him. I feel so small beneath his big body, but it feels perfect and right because we fit together like puzzle pieces waiting to be snapped in place. The hard length of his cock rocking into me is making me so wet for him. I sigh when he nudges my legs apart with his knees and sinks deeper against me, his hips rocking his hard cock over my sensitive clit in tandem with what his tongue is doing in my mouth. A steady rhythm of sexy that will give me a fantastic orgasm if he keeps doing it and doesn't stop.
Oh God, I will die if he stops.
It's ecstasy being held and kissed and caressed by someone who knows what he's doing. He takes my bottom lip in his teeth and gives me a gentle bite. He does it over and over—his teeth coming together to snag my lip in a tenuous hold before dragging away until it pops free again. I'm delirious, and utterly past trying to keep control, to keeping this sweet and light between us.
It's no longer sweet when I take his hand and guide it down the front of the thin leather leggings I wore tonight.
It's no longer light when he fingers my pussy and feels how wet he's made me.
It's downright dirty and delicious when I slide my hand inside the front of his jeans to find his cock pulsing hot and hard, wrap my fingers around the silky skin, and stroke him up and down. He growls into my mouth and rasps out some Russian words. I have no idea what he just said but my active imagination is extremely good at visualizing. It sounded animalistic, like a man telling me what he'd like for us to do…
I want to fuck you...
Yes, yes, yes…
And then Boris does the one thing that will most certainly cause my imminent death.
I will die now.
Because he just stopped.
Nineteen
Boris
YOU SICK OR SOMETHING?
I break off the kiss so suddenly it feels painful when I move myself off her with a frustrated groan. Because I don’t do this. I don’t do casual sex. Honestly, this didn't feel casual with Talia, but I know we've both been drinking tonight. Still, it's way over the line, and we have to continue to work together. Make that, I want to continue working with her. I can’t have some decision I made irrationally in the heat of the moment get in the way of what we’re trying to accomplish together.
As I back away, Talia looks crestfallen, confused, and upset. She's frowning and biting her bottom lip again. Her stormy blue eyes are staring up at me with a whole lot of "what the fuck" swirling around in their depths. It's just fucking awful.
"I’m so sorry, Talia. I apologize to you for that—whatever that was. It's just that we—we can’t do this. You’re beautiful and kind and I really like you very much, but we have a professional relationship. I don’t want to make it weird by crossing the line. Well…by crossing the line further than I just did. Again, I’m sorry. Please say you understand?"
She nods, but she’s still biting her lip and I can see that her eyes are now watery. Have I made her cry? God, what fucking asshole I’ve been to her. Why did I allow things between us get so extremely out of control?
"I’m really sorry." I know I'm babbling as I head for the door, grabbing my shirt from the counter as I pull her door open. I can't help from looking back at her one more time. Talia stands in the same place where I left her, looking so beautiful…and rejected…and not happy with me at all.
I hate this. It's fucked-up and I caused it.
I want to rush back over to her and take her in my arms and kiss the ugliness of the last few moments away until she's humming with desire again. Because that was one of the hottest moments of my life. Because tasting her, feeling her... God, I want that so much. But that would just make everything even worse between us, so I walk out her door instead, shutting it behind me with a heavy click.
As I step onto the lift to go to my floor, Talia’s friend from the club gets out. She nods at my bare chest and grins, pointing with her eyes to Talia's door.
I hear her go inside and say, "Who just got laid toni—" then, "wait, what’s wrong?" just as the elevator door shuts in my face.
Blyad’.
* * *
Delicate wrists I could easily hold in one hand. A tiny waist I could easily span with two. Long lovely legs wrapped around my ass while my hands were cupping hers. Her tongue moving in my mouth. Tasting her. Feeling how wet her pussy was under my fingers. Her hand on my cock. Fuuuuck.
Talia’s body working with mine was a study in contrasts.
And it's the only thing I can think about as the lift takes me up three floors away from her. I wonder if she’ll ever know just how badly I wanted to take her to bed and explore every inch of her finely made form. That kiss was just a taste. A small taste that only made me want to spend hours pleasuring her. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone before in my life.
What the fuck just happened?
Somehow—through a haze of frustration—I manage to stumble up to my apartment, stopping to bang my head against the door before unlocking it. I am an idiot. That was not good. I mean, it was good. Too good. But I did not handle it well. I should go back and explain myself. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk. Far from it, in fact. I was trying to be respectful. I was trying not to take advantage of her.
I guess I shouldn’t have announced I was going to kiss her. Bloody fucking hell. This is all my fault. I should go back and apologize. Get on my knees and beg her forgiveness. Or get on my knees and do something else to her instead…because the scent of her is still on my fingers.
No. I drew a line but crossed it. It’s important I don’t cross it again. I respect her too much and very much need her counsel. Somehow, I'll need to find a way to make this disaster up to her.
As soon as I get inside, I make a beeline for my shower. Priority number one is washing away all the grime I can feel on my skin right now. Maybe it can wash away the stupid thing I just did with Talia too. But that’s totally wishful thinking because as soon as I step under the hot water filling my bathroom with steam, all I can see is Talia, twisting her hair around her finger as she read to me, her beautiful pink lips moving as she spoke. All I can feel is the softness of those lips pressed to mine as I nibbled on her bottom lip with my teeth…and how soft and wet her pussy was against my fingers underneath those smokin’ hot leather pants.
My hand is on my cock before I can even stop myself. Jerking off in the shower is nothing new but doing it to thoughts of Talia is. I don’t want to forget how she smelled and tasted and felt. Or the noises she made. Or the way she rubbed against me when I had her underneath me. Or how my cock felt in her tight grip. Talia is an intelligent woman, a successful woman. Her mind impresses me as much as anything else but tonight? I experienced another side of her: uncaged, wanton, and perfectly fucking gorgeous. I want more from her. Much, much more.
I come explosively, thinking only of her, gritting my teeth and groaning loudly as the cum jets out the tip of my cock. I wish it was buried tight and deep inside her instead of being fisted in my hand. It’s not enough, not by a million miles. But it has to be.
It has to be, because even if I wanted to go back for more, she’d never accept my lame excuse. Why I had to pull away. And she didn’t deserve what I did . . . something that can’t happen again. Fuck.
* * *
Tyler elbows me in the ribs.
"I saw you leave, bro. Alone like some kind of celibate monk or whatever."
I grit my teeth and ignore him as I pull on my pads. He gets another jab in before I can get covered up. "Why are you so concerned about what I do or don’t do in my private life?"
"I’m just sayin’" he rattles on, "that it’s much nicer to get your threesome on with t
wins than to go home to your sad, empty apartment to whack off by yourself. You gotta live a little, buddy."
"You live your way, I’ll live mine. I already told you casual is not my thing."
"Well, with a face like yours, it should be," he says with a shrug. "And I’m secure enough in my manhood to recognize when a dude is better lookin’ than me. My bestie, Viktor? Not better looking than me. Evan K? Ehhh, yeah, maybe. You? Way outside of my sphere of hotness. It’s a waste not to let such good looks work for you, man."
I can’t help but laugh, even as I’m shaking my head. Tyler is ridiculous. And not far from the truth. I mean, I didn’t technically go home alone, but I did whack off by myself. A hazard of getting too close to Talia Wentworth. Of course, Tyler doesn’t need to know a single thing about her. No way do I want him even near her.
Dressed in my practice uniform I head out on the ice, my head still on the pretty girl with the glasses. I swear, she’s been all I’ve been able to think about for the past two days. I really screwed things up with her and I still don’t know what to do about it.
For two days, I’ve been messing up in practice because my head is not in the game like it should be. Coach has gotten on me for missing passes, letting myself get checked, and not hitting the goals I should be able to shoot with my eyes closed. And now, Evan is pulling me to the side.
"Dude, you want to tell me what’s going on with you? You sick or something?"
"Something like that," I mutter, because I’m definitely not going to admit that my issues on the ice have to do with the fact that I kissed my investment advisor and liked it too much.
"Sit this drill out if you need to," he says.
I shake my head. "I’ll get it together. Sorry."
Evan doesn’t look convinced. He puts his gloved hand on my padded shoulder and says, "Take a break if you need it. Or we can talk after practice."
I give a nod and head off to grab water, banishing all thoughts of Talia for now. I do manage to get my head into the practice game as we scrimmage, my shots getting clearer. But I’ve got a pounding headache when I head back to the locker room afterwards.
Evan doesn't mess around and sends me straight to PT.
Pam has me face down on the table as she works at tense muscles in my shoulder and neck. "No wonder you’ve got a headache. There’s a lot happening here."
"Yes, I have always carried tension there," I explain.
"We don’t think this is concussion-related, do we?" she asks.
"No, it is not."
"Something going on that’s stressing you out? Seems like the team is finally gelling pretty well."
My first inclination is to clam up. No one needs to know what a total mudak I was with Talia the other night. But it’s really nagging at me, and maybe Pam would know how to help me make it right.
"The team is good." Groaning as she puts pressure on a particularly tight spot in my shoulder, I decide to share with her. "It’s just that I think—ahh…I know I messed up…with a woman."
"Oh boy!" She becomes positively gleeful. "Well, lay it on me, pal. I’ll tell you how deep you’re in it and just what it’ll take to dig yourself back out."
I let out a huff of breath through my nose. "Well, there is this woman. She is helping me to figure out my investments. Very smart. Very—"
"Beautiful?"
"Yes. Incredibly. But I can’t cross the line with her. I really need her help with my money management situation, so I don’t want to jeopardize our business relationship."
"But you did, I’d gather?"
"Yes. I saw her out at a club the other night. We danced and then I walked her home. It turns out we live in the same building, so we showed each other our apartments."
"That doesn’t sound so bad," Pam says. "Turn over on your back for me."
I flip over and then continue with the story. I tell her about Talia spilling her tea on me. "She is always spilling things." I can't help chuckling. "So I had to take off my shirt, and then she read to me."
"She…read to you? Like, financial papers or something?"
"No, a fantasy novel." I can feel my face doing something between a grin and a wince. "It is a long story. But it…it was sexy. Her reading. And she looked so beautiful. Annnd…then I kissed her."
"And then she slapped your face and told you to go to hell?" Pam grins down at me.
"No, quite the opposite. She reciprocated. A lot."
"Okay, you were both into it. What's the problem?"
"She is my investment manager. I did not want to cross the professional line, but I did. So, I backed off, apologized, and left."
"Wait, so you kissed her, then rejected her?"
And that’s why you don’t tell another woman about the idiot you were. Because they tell it as it is. Shameful.
"I suppose it would appear so," I admit. "I just—the kissing was over the line in the first place. I didn’t want to further complicate things between us. I thought I was doing the right thing by putting a halt on further intimacy."
"Hmmm."
Pam works at stretching my arms and shoulders while she thinks about what I’ve just told her. Finally, she tells me to sit up and asks how I’m feeling."
"Better. Thank you."
"You’re welcome. So, I get where you’re coming from. The team here has this crazy non-fraternization policy, which has been challenged in numerous ways over the past couple of years. Georg and I met before I started here, but things got more serious once I started working on staff and we really couldn’t be together."
"But you are, so—"
"So, yeah. We let it happen, and sometimes in really not-smart ways, you know? We did bad things in this very room…bad things that were captured on an audio recording." She lifts her eyebrows. "Not my proudest moment as a professional, being called in by my boss for screwing around with a player in my workspace."
"Ouch." I can’t help wincing.
"I narrowly missed being fired. Georg got slapped on the wrist. But, somehow, it all worked out and we’re together and we still work here. The point is, I know a little bit about wanting what you’re not supposed to have."
"Thank you for sharing that with me, Pam. Truly. But I still don’t know what to do about Talia."
"Well, maybe this is oversimplifying, but what if you buy her some flowers and ask her on a proper date?"
"What about our professional relationship though?"
She shrugs. "I think it will all work itself out if it’s meant to be. You like her, she likes you, there’s got to be something worth exploring there. And if it doesn’t work out, you’re both adults and you can probably figure out how to continue to work together. I mean, shit, Georg and I only see our financial advisors a couple of times a year now. You’d barely have to see her if you really didn’t want to."
"Thanks." I offer my knuckles for a fist bump. "For helping me."
"You’re welcome." She bumps me back. "Keep me posted on how it goes with Talia."
I head out, Pam’s advice swirling in my head. What if I did take her flowers and ask her on a proper date? I mean, Pam is right, I do like her. I know I’m very attracted to her, and she seemed attracted to me. Of course, it could have been the alcohol…
Der'mo. What if it was just the alcohol talking and now she very much regrets kissing me?
I need to think carefully about what to do next.
Because I cannot fuck this up more than I already have with her.
Twenty
Talia
YOU SHOULD BE HIS SEX ADVISOR, TOO
Ugh. I can’t get my head into work stuff at all. My stomach is a flip-flopping disaster zone. My head hurts. My heart is racing. I’m not a panic attack kind of girl but this feels like one. Or maybe it’s karma. Karma for getting all hot and bothered over yet another of my clients. What is wrong with me?
It’s been three days since that hot mess with Boris, and I haven’t heard a peep from him. I’ve been thinking about him, it, the situation… Ugh.
Constantly. It just doesn’t go away, the thinking or the wanting. And to add to my anxious misery, I’m still totally hot for the guy. Totally turned on and wanting nothing more than his big hard—
Stop.
Boris rejected me. He had a change of heart apparently and then totally bolted from my apartment.
But as he left, Parker came in and that's when I completely lost my shit. Bawled like a teenage girl ditched on prom night. Seriously. Not just because he left. I think, probably, his leaving was the right thing to do. Still, it doesn’t mean it felt good to watch him go, even though I know he was as turned on as I was. But when Parker came back in? I fell apart, collapsing into a weeping mess on the floor. I was literally sick for letting it go so far, for being such a sluttress. Because I was one. One-hundred-percent-out-of-control-sluttress-trying-to-bang-her-client. How horrifyingly humiliating.
He must think I’m so immature and unprofessional. I can’t even brush it off like, "No big deal, we were drunk," because I wasn’t drunk and he wasn’t either. I was just my usual, awkward, idiot self, spilling tea on him. And then he was shirtless…and then he wanted me to read to him.
"Oh my God." I lean back in my chair and yell out loud into my empty office. "What an absolute fool I am!"
Boris was totally turned on by my reading. He looked like he literally wanted to devour me, like he might eat me alive. And, frankly, I wanted him to go there.
It’s embarrassing that I let myself get so worked up, so out of control. And then he tells me he doesn’t want to cross a professional line? Already crossed it when you looked at me that way, buddy. Crossed the fucking finish line when you kissed me.
Puck Money: A Hockey Love Story Page 11
