by Avery Flynn
"When I was growing up, I didn't see my dad very often." His attention zeroed in on the napkin he was twisting until it started to shred in surrender and land in little wisps of white paper on the table. "Basically only when he needed some good publicity."
"What a great guy." Yeah, that was a total understatement.
"Oh yeah, the best." Twist. Shred. Twist. Repeat. "I was an idiot though and still held out hope that if I got to be a good enough hockey player that he'd start paying attention and be around more."
The casual coolness with which he said the words made her insides bunch up and turn in on themselves. Without thinking or planning, she reached out to him this time and hooked her fingers loosely around his, wanting to give him that touch of understanding—empathy—since finding him a new less-asshole father wasn't an option. "I'm guessing that didn't happen."
He snorted and brushed his thumb across the side of her finger. "Not in the least. It wasn't until my juniors team made it to the championship and I had scouts from all over the league sniffing around me—not to mention hockey media trying to burrow its way up my ass—that he started to reach out. He promised he'd be at the final game. He never showed. I played like shit. That night I got home and there was a delivery waiting for me. It was a sorry-I-couldn't-make-it card with a present."
Knowing Flynn and the way he played every game like it was his last, she didn't have to be a genius to realize what was under the gift wrapping. "The Gatorade bottle?"
"Yeah, he had some extras from a breast cancer promotion he was doing with the company and it must have seemed like the easiest solution to getting rid of unwanted junk and finding a birthday gift for his kid."
Fuck. That was…awful. "Our dads should never get together."
He looked up at her and that wicked smile of his flashed across his face. "Another dickhead?"
Her mom and Marko had tried to protect her from most of the worst stuff, but there was no way to completely block out the frustrated, angry drunk of a father who'd entertained himself during stints outside of jail by tormenting his family.
"Yeah, you could definitely say that."
The arrival of the dessert pretzels—one a warm puffy bit of deliciousness sprinkled with cinnamon sugar and the other with cherries and nuts baked into the dough—kept them from continuing the shitty fathers parade. Instead, they laughed about her stories of jazz musicians with diva attitudes and his stories about road trip pranks the Cajun Rage played on each other. By the time the pretzels were gone, she felt better than she had in a long time. Bear stopped by for some quick hockey talk and to drop off the bill, but neither of them touched it. She wasn't ready to end their little truce. And Flynn? Well, he just stared at her as if she was something he couldn't quite figure out but he couldn't strop trying to figure out what made her tick.
"I should have said it earlier, Sparkles, but…thanks for coming to my rescue."
Her brain shorted out for a second. In the years she'd known him, she'd never heard him admit to weakness of any sort—on the ice or off of it. The urge to tease that serious look off his face was too much to deny.
"Be still my heart," she said with a dramatic sigh. "Are you admitting you can't kick the world's ass?"
"Never," he said, smirking in that cocky way that got her every damn time. “But if you hadn't shown up I wouldn't have known I was in the middle of a fight."
Which is exactly why she'd said yes when Orlando called. "Any idea who hates you this much?"
"Enough to cold cock me on the street? Hell yeah. Lots," he said, sounding about as sorry about that as he'd been for stealing the last bite of cinnamon sugar pretzel. "Enough to ruin my career? Not in the least."
"I'll reach out to Orlando again." She'd been waiting all afternoon for him to return the million messages she'd left for him. "After what happened today, he'll give me a name. He's a total dick but he has a sense of honor—a twisted one, yeah, but it's still there. He won't like that this guy tried to grab me off the street."
Flynn's sly smirk transformed into a flat line. "That makes two of us."
Three, really. And if Flynn hadn't come when she'd screamed, her breath caught—well, she wasn't even going to go there. "Thanks for coming after me."
That's all she'd wanted back in Dallas—to have him turn that truck around and come back for her. She'd stood in that driveway for half an hour unable to move, unable to go forward or back. And, really, she hadn't been able to do so since that day three years ago. She'd occupied that same emotional space stuck between hope and despair, still in love with the one man who'd made her want to be the kind of woman she knew deep inside that she could be. Changing her heart may not be in the cards, but it was past time she moved on emotionally—and she would. Once the Cup was safely traveling to its next destination, she'd be the one to get in her rental and drive out of town for good. It was the right thing to do, but it didn't make her want to curl up into the fetal position any less.
With all the fun of their dinner sucked out of her, she reached for the check. "We better head on back to the hotel."
He extended his hand at the same time and their fingers brushed, sending a shockwave of want through her. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. But there it was. She loved him. She'd probably always love him, but she'd fucked it up too much for it to be anything more than what it was.
"I got this," Flynn said, his voice low and hungry as he ignored the check and curled his fingers around hers.
For a second neither of them moved as the air sizzled around them. Then, he released her, reached for his wallet and pulled out a stack of bills that more than covered their tab. He dropped them on the table, stood and held out his hand to her.
"I don't know why you got that sad look on your face all of the sudden, Sparkles, but I plan on changing it as soon as we get back to the motel."
Gillie Pike knew she was many things, but a woman who could turn down Flynn Kazakov didn't seem to be one of them. Pushing all her doubts and better judgment into a dark pit, she took his hand and they set a land speed record back to the motel.
7
Flynn
Shutting the door between them and the rest of the world—including Snow Bay's finest stationed north and south of the motel thanks to a bullshit story about a low-level stalker threat to him he'd given to an old buddy on the force earlier in the afternoon—Flynn released the breath he'd been holding since they'd rushed out of Bear's Diner with one shared destination in mind.
He turned her around, pressed her soft body against the door and fisted his hands around her hair and tugged her head to the side exposing the long, white column of her throat. Grinding his cock against the swell of her ass, he kissed his way down her neck punctuating it with a hard nip to that sensitive spot at the base. Her answering shiver caused just enough friction against him that he had to take a half step back—not enough to break contact completely but letting a sliver of daylight between their lower halves.
"That dinner was hell," he said, releasing the silk of her hair and letting it flow between his fingers.
"What are you talking about?" She turned just enough that the curve of her hip brushed against his hardness. "It was delicious."
Was it? Probably. But he'd hardly tasted it, he was too transfixed by her.
"Watching you eat—the little sighs you made, the way you licked the gravy off your fingertips, the way you savored every fucking bite—had me harder than I've ever been in public."
"That's a lie." She twisted around completely so his arms bracketed her as she stood with her back against the door. "I remember one movie date when your dick almost bore a hole through the popcorn box."
They'd been in the back row of one of the food-and-a-movie places, the kind with the big lounge chairs that really let a big guy like him stretch out. Someone could put a gun to his head and he wouldn't be able to remember the name of the movie, but other details were imprinted for life.
"What did you expect when you fed me a piece of popcor
n and I could still taste the sweetness of your pussy on your fingers?"
She tugged her full bottom lip between her teeth and looked up at him from beneath her thick eyelashes. "If it hadn't been so crowded, I could have helped you out with that."
His cock thickened against his thigh. "Instead we made it as far as a dark corner of the parking garage."
With his truck as a shield between them and anyone who may have wandered up to the garage's nearly empty fourth floor, he'd shoved down his jeans just enough to free his dick and fucked her hard against the concrete column until she'd screamed his name twice then he'd come in her so hard he'd lost his vision for a moment.
"Good thing I hadn't been wearing any underwear." She popped the top button of her jeans and slowly lowered the zipper. "It made things so much easier."
Heat blasted through him and he pressed his palms against the door to stop himself from hurrying the agonizingly hot process along. "Do you really think a scrap of lace would have slowed me down when you were begging me in that husky little voice of yours to fuck you?"
Her fingers stilled and she looked him straight in the eye, all playful teasing replaced by a lava-hot desire. "So what's stopping you now?"
A million good reasons and a million bad ones. "Not a damn thing."
His hands went to his jeans and he slipped the button through the hole ready and willing to rip the denim to shreds if he needed to. He'd fucked plenty of women, both puck bunnies and those who wouldn't know a crosscheck from a mugging, but only Gillie drove him to the edge of sanity like this. Maybe the hockey commenters were right and he was a little bit crazy, but being here with her made more sense to him than almost anything else in the world. She may not be his, but he loved her anyway. Probably always would. And if wanting to show her that tonight when he knew the words—let alone the reality—were beyond him, he was okay with that. And he knew just the way she wanted it, how they both did.
"On your knees."
The nothing-but-trouble sparkle in her eyes that had led to her nickname flashed as she lowered herself down, letting her palms skim over his hips and thighs as she did so. For his part, he kept his hands planted on the door. Not touching her at this moment was just about the only thing keeping him from yanking her up and tossing her on the bed so he could lick and taste and torment her until she was writhing and out-of-her mind with want.
"Unzip me."
She did, and then shoved his jeans and underwear down to mid-thigh. Her hands were cool against his overheated dick. Her mouth opened and she extended her pink tongue, no doubt to lap up the pre-come already pooling on his engorged head, but she stopped herself just in time. This was the game they'd always played for as long as they could. Each of them trying to take small steps toward the final blinding release, drawing out each sigh, each moan until going slow wasn't a possibility. Once that happened, anything not bolted down was likely to be lost. He'd broken a bed with her that way.
"What do you want?" she asked, her words a tormenting breeze against him.
He couldn't help the way his balls tightened in response. "You know."
Her lips curled up at the ends, showing just how much she was enjoying this. "Say it."
Oh, that teasing little grin of hers was going to kill him one of these days, if the rest of her didn't do it first. "Suck me."
She did, wrapping her plump lips around him and taking him in as far as she could. It was like a lightning bolt straight through him. He dropped one hand from the door and cupped the back of her head, his fingers weaving through the long ebony strands of her hair. Her moan of approval as his fingers twisted around the silky mane, allowing him to better control the angle of her mouth as he plunged inside, vibrated up his spine. Rocking his hips in time with the bob of her head, they established a rhythm with her punctuating the pleasure by taking it away a few seconds at a time, replacing the tight warmth of her mouth with the slow strokes of her tongue from base to tip where she lapped at the pre-come pooling there. Then, with a sweet kiss on the head—well as sweet as it could be considering she was giving him the blow job of a century—she swallowed him deep.
"Fuck, that's good," he groaned, pleasure making his balls tight.
She moaned her agreement over his cock and hooked her finger in the top of her blue tank top, yanking it down below her black bra. Then, while sucking him deep enough that her nose brushed against his trimmed pubic hair, she shoved her bra cup aside and released one of her tits and tugged on the already hard nipple. The combination of the sexy woman on her knees before him, hot mouth around his dick, smooth hair between his fingers and cool breath when she released his cock for half a second before taking him deep again had him running hockey plays in his mind to stop from coming.
Gillie, though, must have had other plans. She glided her palms up the outside of his thighs, reached around back to grab his ass and sank her fingernails in just enough to get her message across.
"You want me to fuck that pretty face of yours until I come," he asked, barely able to get the words out he was strung so tight.
She nodded, the move making his dick hit the roof of her mouth as she loosened her hold on him in preparation for what they both wanted to come next.
"Whatever you want, Sparkles." He tightened his grip on her hair, wrapped the long strands around his fist and drove forward into her waiting mouth, going far enough that her throat squeezed his cock.
That wasn't what broke him though. It was the fuck-yeah look in her eyes and the way she met his every thrust with one of her own, taking him deeper than he would have pushed on his own. Then, she opened wider, extended her tongue and licked the sensitive underside of his balls. Heaven and hell slammed together in that moment, shattering him as he came in that sweet mouth of hers.
"Damn, Gillie," he said, opening his eyes as he tried to remember how to breathe again.
She drew her thumb against the corner of her mouth and then sucked off the few dabs of liquid she'd gathered. "I take it you enjoyed yourself."
Her smirk was just shy of an outright challenge. One he planned on meeting. "Almost as much as you're about to."
"I like the sound of that," she said as she stood up, full of the kind of self-assurance that came with making someone come harder than a check from behind.
Quick as the record-holding one-hundred-and-eight mile per hour slap shot, he wrapped an arm around her waist and jerked her off balance and against his chest. "Let's see if you're still saying that when you're begging me to let you come." Without giving her time to do more than suck in a breath, he whipped around and flung her across the room so she fell back onto the motel room bed. "Get naked.”
Gillie
Gillie had never shed her clothes so fast. She'd been running hot before. After what had just happened she was molten. It wasn't that she didn't love her own pleasure because she sure as fuck did, but for whatever reason making Flynn come ticked off one of her really-turns-me-on boxes. Maybe it was because it was a bit of a power trip or maybe it was because there is nothing sexier than giving someone an orgasm that made them lose their minds, she didn't care. All that mattered was that she was burning up waiting for Flynn to touch her. But instead of pouncing, the bastard just stood at the end of the bed and did the world's slowest strip tease while she tried not to come just from the weight of his gaze.
His shirt hit the floor. "Grab ahold of the wooden spindles in the headboard, and no matter what do not let go."
Oh, hell no. She was dying here. Dying. "Torture me later, right now I just want to come."
He made a tsk-tsk sound but didn't look the least bit sympathetic. "Begging already?"
"Yes." Proud? Her? Not at this moment.
Flynn's heady gaze traveled down her overheated and desperate body. "Poor Sparkles."
She spread her legs as far as they could go. "So help a woman out."
"I will." His gaze dropped to her wet, throbbing pussy. "As soon as you wrap your fingers around the spindles in that headboard and hol
d tight."
She had two choices. Get herself off right here, right now or do what he said and squeeze his head tight between her thighs when she came. Since option two gave her both the orgasm and the sweet taste of revenge at his high handedness, she raised her arms and took hold of the headboard.
"Now was that really that hard?" he asked, looking smug and already half hard again.
"Fuck you," she said as she planted her feet wide on the bed and lifted her hips so her core was closer to Flynn's mouth level.
He landed a soft slap against her clit. "Soon, Miss Impatient."
Her ass hit the mattress, the smack's sting only adding to the need building inside her.
"Keep them spread."
Too needy to argue any more, she did.
He sat down on the bed facing her with his hip touching hers. "This way I can watch your face and your juicy cunt without changing position." He dropped one hand between her legs and slid his thumb across her engorged clit. "You do have the prettiest pussy." Slow and steady, he rubbed his thumb around her clit close enough to make her entire body tingle but not enough to start her climax. "So soft and smooth."
Unable to stand it, she bucked her hips to bring her clit into direct contact with his thumb. Ecstasy shot through her, bowing her spine. "God, yes."
She'd barely had time to relish the vibrations beginning in her thighs when Flynn pressed his free hand to the area just above her pubic bone and pushed her down so she couldn't move her lower half.
The muscles in his forearm barely flexed in the effort but the dark command in his eyes sharpened. "No moving."
"You didn't specify that." She gave herself mental points for smartassery as she tried—and failed—to wriggle herself to just the right position.
"I am now." He sank two fingers inside her slick core with one hand and pushed down on her lower abdomen with the other.
She moved. She couldn't help it. It felt too good to be still.
