Complications on Ice - S.R. Grey

by Grey, S. R.

  I writhed against him, begging for more. “Yes, just like that. Right there, keep touching me. Please don’t stop.”

  “I don’t intend to stop, Eliza. Not until you fall apart.”

  “Yes,” I gasped, my breasts rubbing against his firm chest. I glanced down and loved how my skin looked so milky and white in comparison to the dark ink of his tattoos. I was also relieved to see I wasn’t leaking. How would I explain that?

  Dispersing that worry, I reached down to stroke his rigid cock. That put a little space between us…and kept him distracted with lust.

  I was feeling pretty lusty myself and blurted out, “I want to taste you, Benny.”

  “Fuck, Eliza. Are you trying to kill me here?”

  “No,” I assured him as I traced the rim of his cock. “I just really want to make you feel as good as you’re making me feel.”

  He lifted me up to the side of the pool, and I asked, “What are you doing? I thought you weren’t going to stop?”

  “I’m not. And I like what you just suggested. We’ll definitely get to that. But first I’m going to taste you. Lean back on your elbows, beautiful,” he murmured. “Watch me make you come.”

  “Oh, Benny…”

  I did as he asked, and he parted my legs. I couldn’t watch, though. Not yet. I just wanted to feel.

  There was nothing at first, just the chill of the night on my openness. But then I felt his heated breaths…and the softness of his tongue.

  “Yes.”

  I finally took a peek. He wanted me to watch, and I did so now. I watched until he shattered me into a million pieces.

  I thought he was done with me. But Benny slid his fingers into me, moving and twisting until all I could do was work myself on him shamelessly till I fell apart again.

  I was dizzy and weak by then, and I almost fell back. “No more,” I gasped.

  I tried to push him away. Well, kind of, but not really.

  Holding me in place, he chuckled and said, “We’re not done yet, Eliza. I think you have one more in you.”

  He was right, I did.

  Spent at last, I laid back. But I soon mustered up some energy. After all, I hadn’t done anything for him. Plus, I’d made a promise I intended to keep.

  Sliding back into the pool, I crooked a finger toward the shallow end. “Follow me, Benny.”

  He did. Oh, he did.

  When we reached the shallow water, I turned to him and knelt. His cock was already hard, but he stroked it a few times until it was positively rigid.

  When he touched the tip to my lips, I licked and kissed. And then I took all of him in my mouth. When he was close, I felt him tightening. He tried to pull back, but I grabbed his ass to hold him in place. Not that he put up any real struggle.

  As I swallowed everything he gave me, he groaned, “Fuck, Eliza, fuck.”

  Afterward, we cleansed away the remains of our lusty encounter in the warm pool water.

  We languished for awhile, sated and happy, floating around on a big raft he’d pulled into the water.

  We talked late into the night, with Benny remaining as attentive as before we’d sexed things up.

  Still, I felt a creep of worry.

  Had we moved too fast?

  Even though we’d not had full-on sex, we’d done enough that it made me question if I’d just become another notch on Benny’s belt.

  If it’s Good Enough for You

  I had no plans to blow off Eliza, but she seemed worried I would. I sensed it in the pool after we’d messed around and then again the day after when I called her. I asked her what was wrong, and she flat-out declared we’d moved too fast.

  “What?” I said, thinking I’d heard her wrong. I mean, shit, it had all felt so good…and so fucking right.

  “I just wished we’d waited,” she reiterated with a sigh.

  Nope, hadn’t heard her wrong.

  “Well, I don’t wish that,” I retorted, confused as fuck. “Everything we did felt amazing. Or am I wrong, Eliza?”

  “You’re not wrong. It was great. I just hope you don’t think any differently about me now.”

  What does she think this is, 1947?

  “Not at all,” I assured her.

  She seemed completely unconvinced, which made me wonder if she’d moved too fast with someone in her past and they’d ghosted her or something. I couldn’t say I’d never done that to a woman. Hell, I had, like, repeatedly. But I wasn’t planning on ghosting her. There was just something about Eliza, something that made me want to stick around to see where this burgeoning relationship could lead.

  Oh, hell.

  I couldn’t believe I was thinking crap like that. I’d never been into any other woman like this. But Eliza, she was different. And I couldn’t wait to see her again. I was sad our plan to go dancing was still a few nights away. But I couldn’t move it up. I had an away game the next day against the LA Kings.

  Cognizant of Eliza’s fear that I was going to dump her, once I was out of town, I made sure to text and call her a shit ton of times. I did other things, too, like send her funny hockey memes. I even shared a few inside jokes about the players.

  Brent is so superstitious, I texted her before the game.

  We were all sitting around the locker room, waiting for some sage before-game words from Coach T.

  How is he superstitious? Eliza wanted to know.

  For one, he doesn’t like anyone to touch his sticks before we hit the ice.

  That doesn’t sound too crazy.

  Yeah, but I think I’m gonna fuck with him. I’m reaching over now to caress one. This should really work him up.

  I wasn’t really doing it, but Eliza’s next text sounded so adamant that I didn’t dare.

  Noooo! Don’t do it, Benny. What if he’s onto something and you mess with the good hockey juju? You guys could lose the game!

  Shit, she was right.

  Good thing I’d never had any intention of touching Brent’s sticks. To do so could indeed incur the wrath of the hockey gods. No fucking way did I want that on my conscience.

  It warmed my heart to no end to have discovered sweet Eliza felt the same way.

  I’d never actually do it, I assured her. I was just messing with you.

  Coach came in then. Oh, crap, gotta go. Your dad is about to start his pregame pep talk.

  Okay. Go kick some Kings’s ass.

  Will do.

  See you soon.

  You know it.

  Can’t wait for dancing.

  Me, too.

  Coach T gave his speech, and we hit the ice.

  We lost that game, which totally sucked. Losing always did. And damn if I wasn’t legit worried then that I’d somehow jinxed us, just by joking about angering the hockey gods.

  One thing for sure—I’d never do that again.

  Despite the loss, I was feeling good about returning to Las Vegas. I was so damn ready to see Eliza again. And though I wasn’t much of a dancer, I planned to give it my all for her sake.

  One thing I absolutely wouldn’t be doing, however, was sharing any details of my clubbing past. Like how the guys and I used to hang around at the bar and wait for girls to flock to us, which they always did.

  My MO used to be to choose whichever one struck my fancy. I’d focus on her, and it usually led to fucking her in the club restroom or in the back of her car.

  But that was the past. I was looking solely to the future these days.

  I’d picked that up at a recent meeting and found it to be a good philosophy to follow.

  The only thing bothering me now was that Eliza was once again insisting on meeting me out.

  “It’ll be too busy in the club,” I countered. “I might never find you. Just let me pick you up.”

  “No, that’s okay. I can meet you out in the parking lot.”

  Fuck that. Not this time.

  When date night arrived, I ignored all her texts asking when we should meet. I got in my car and drove straight to her house
. I wasn’t stupid about it, I’d gotten some info first, like last time.

  Eliza’s mom was out. Eliza herself had said as much in a text. Good, that meant she wouldn’t be a factor. As for Eliza’s dad, I learned—again from Dylan Culderway, who had to be wondering why I kept asking about Coach—that he’d be in his office late, just like before.

  Perfect.

  In case any of my info was bad, I decided to park a few houses down from Eliza’s.

  At her front door, I rang the doorbell. And then I stepped back and waited, hoping she wouldn’t be too pissed at me for showing up unannounced.

  When she opened the door, she did so just a crack, like she was hiding something.

  “Benny,” she exclaimed, looking not only shocked, but worried, as well.

  Huh?

  “Surprise,” I said. “Sorry to show up when you’re still getting ready”—she was wearing a short pink robe, and though her makeup was done, her hair was up in those hot roller things—“but, well… Here I am.”

  “We were supposed to meet in the club parking lot. Why’d you come to my house?”

  “Hell with meeting in a stupid lot,” I countered. “I wanted to pick you up on a proper date. Is that a problem?”

  “I don’t know,” she inexplicably retorted.

  “We’re safe, babe, if that’s what you’re worried about. Your mom’s still out, right?”

  She nodded, and I shared with her, “Well, I have it on good word that your dad’s down at the arena reviewing game footage. You know that takes hours.”

  “It does,” she concurred.

  I smiled. “So we’re good?”

  Sighing heavily, she glanced back over her shoulder, while still keeping the door semi-closed. Weird.

  “Yeah,” she said, at last, “I guess we are.”

  I tried to peer past her to see what she was hiding, and as I did I joked, “You don’t have a secret boyfriend in there, do you?”

  Shit, what if she says yes.

  I knew then and there that it’d kill me. Fuck, I liked her way too much.

  Luckily, she snorted, “Benny, don’t be silly.”

  I wasn’t trying to be silly, but for the life of me I couldn’t imagine why she was acting so uneasy about me showing up. I mean, shit, her parents were fucking out.

  And if there was no secret boyfriend, something I believed to be true, who else could be at her house that she wouldn’t want me to see?

  It was a true mystery. One that deepened when, glancing over her shoulder again, she murmured, “Uh, would you mind waiting out here for a few minutes? I need to straighten up a bit before I let you in.” She laughed nervously. “We Townsends are a messy bunch.”

  I called bullshit. “Wow, really? Your dad is a total neat freak when it comes to his office.”

  Softly, eyes down, she said something that had me even more perplexed. “You never know what someone could be hiding, Benny. Appearances can be deceiving.”

  Huh? That seemed…odd. Were we talking about her dad, or was something else at play here?

  What was Eliza not telling me?

  From what little I could see past her body jammed in the doorway, the place didn’t appear messy at all.

  I knew then there was more to this secrecy crap. What could it be, though?

  With a sigh, I relented. “Sure, I can wait out here.”

  She closed the door, and returned about ten minutes later. The first thing I noticed was that she’d lost the robe. She was now wearing a short black sequin dress, perfect for clubbing.

  I could hardly keep my eyes off her. She just mesmerized me like that. As a result, I began to forget all about Eliza’s weird behavior. She looked that damn stunning.

  The little dress clung to her, and with the curlers out of her hair, her reddish-blonde mane flowed enticingly down her back.

  I liked it.

  And I liked the way her hips swayed when she led me through the foyer—all neat and tidy, by the way.

  We then stepped down into a great room, and I finally tore my gaze from her to check around.

  There was a huge sectional sofa and a stone fireplace that took up the entire back wall. That was really all I had time, or inclination, to take in.

  Focusing back on Eliza, I murmured, “You look exceptionally beautiful tonight. Dressing up really suits you.”

  “It does you, too, Benny.” She nodded to my sleek dark suit.

  I wasn’t nearly as close to perfection as she was, and I told her as much. “I could never look as amazing as you do right now, Eliza.”

  She turned the cutest shade of pink, making the sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose stand out.

  “That’s sweet of you to say,” she murmured, and then, clearing her throat, she made a motion to what looked to be the kitchen. “Are you thirsty at all? Would you like something to drink before we leave for the club?”

  “Sure. A glass of water would be great.”

  “Bottled okay?”

  “That’s even better.”

  Eliza left the room, and I sat down on the big sectional sofa. Incidentally, the place looked neat as a pin.

  Except for one thing…

  Something had caught my eye—a small, pink plastic object, sticking out from between the sofa cushions.

  Just as I was reaching for the mystery item, Eliza returned.

  “Oh, wait, no!” she exclaimed, nearly dropping the water as she raced over to me.

  Stymied, I froze. “What? What’s wrong?”

  She practically threw the bottled water my way. Luckily, I caught it with one hand. And then, just as she was lunging for the pink plastic whatever-it-was was that wedged in the cushions, I decided to go for it myself.

  I mean, shit, I needed to see what it was if it had her in this much of a tizzy.

  I was faster, of course, and got to it first.

  “What is this thing?” I murmured as I lifted and held up the pink object for a more thorough inspection.

  “Um, Benny, it’s not what it looks like.”

  Oh, but it was, and I declared as much.

  “This is one of those baby pacifier things.”

  With amazing speed—making me think maybe she should be on our team—Eliza snatched the item from my hand and swiftly tossed it into a drawer in the coffee table.

  I looked at her like what-the-hell-was-that-about?

  She just shrugged in return.

  “What was that thing?” I asked, though I knew what it was and had said as much. “A baby pacifier, right,” I reiterated.

  “It was nothing,” she said, looking away.

  “Bullshit,” I murmured.

  My sister had had a baby not that long ago, and I knew what the hell pacifiers looked like. But that begged the question—why would there be a freaking baby pacifier at Coach’s house? I knew for sure there were no little ones here, as Eliza was his only kid.

  Maybe Mrs. Townsend babysits for someone? Or maybe Eliza does?

  I was thinking of asking her about those possibilities, but then she blurted out, “Okay, yes, it’s a baby pacifier, Benny. It belongs to me, okay? Like, for my personal use.”

  “What?” More confusion ensued. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means the pacifier is mine. That’s why it’s pink. You know, because I’m a girl and all.”

  Uh-oh, maybe Eliza was a little touched.

  Well, touched or not, I could work with this. That’s right. If Eliza Townsend had an oral fixation that needed fulfilling, I had something way better than a pacifier she could put in her mouth.

  I was about to say as much since we’d already gone there, but she began rambling, offering up a wacky, expanded explanation.

  “The pacifier is part of that baby food diet I was telling you about in the grocery store. You remember that day, right? I had all that baby food in my cart.”

  I was still stuck on the pacifier being hers, so I just stared at her blankly.

  “Pureed sweet po
tatoes?” she went on. “Ring a bell?”

  I remembered just fine, and I finally said, “Yes, of course I remember.”

  Without a doubt, Eliza had a few screws loose. I’d never heard of that crazy baby food diet, but she sure was rigorously committed to it. Though, when all was said and done, I kind of had to admire a trait like that.

  Eliza was still talking, and I tuned back in, in time to catch, “The pacifier is an integral part of the baby food diet program.”

  “It is, eh?” I raised a brow. This I had to hear. “How so?”

  “Well”—I swear she was making this up as she went along—“when you’re hungry, you pop the pacifier into your mouth. You then chew on it or whatever. That action gives you a feeling like you’re eating something.”

  It was a stretch but I had to say, in a weird way, it all made sense. And that led me to ask, “Does it work?”

  She made a big show of nodding. “Oh, yes, absolutely.”

  It was bizarre, sure, but my teammates had tried crazier diets and wackier regimens than that. I often overheard them talking about tricks and tips to reach a certain weight goal, or shit you could do to up your fitness quotient.

  That right there made my next words possible. “Hey, maybe I should try it.”

  Eliza looked horrified, even as she calmly replied, “Yeah, sure. I guess you could give it a shot.”

  “It might help with my donut addiction,” I replied.

  She cocked her head. “I didn’t know you had a donut addiction. I did see donuts in your cart at the store, but I thought nothing of it.”

  Sheepishly, I replied, “Yeah, well, you should have. I have a donut addiction, Eliza, not had. Please don’t tell your dad, though. I’m working on it, I swear. Besides, he might be more pissed about the donuts than us going out.”

  “I doubt that,” she scoffed. “But don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”

  “Thanks. So about that pacifier… Do you mind if we stop at Target on the way to the club? I’d like to buy one and give it a try.”

  She gave me another funny look but agreed.

  Though I was onboard with the pacifier aspect of the crazy baby food plan, I was quick to declare, “I’m drawing the line at eating pureed sweet potatoes, though.”

  She raised a brow. “Oh, you are? What about the dessert we had? You seemed to enjoy that.”