The Slot: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance

by Colleen Charles

  Eloise moaned and shoved against him. “Please, wait,” she gasped. “Not here.”

  “Here’s good, baby,” he murmured, his voice muffled against the tender skin of her breast. “I can’t wait. Eloise, I’ve wanted you since I first saw you with your hand wrapped around the cellophane bag. Are you going to make me beg? I’m not above it, you know.” His hand slid to the waistband of her leggings, one finger slipping underneath and tugging downward. Clearly, Cole Fiorino was used to getting what he wanted, the moment he wanted it.

  Instinctively, she bucked up and grabbed his hand. “Please, Cole. I want our first time to be special, not in the back seat of a car. No matter how luxurious said car may be. My place isn’t far.”

  He halted his ministrations, clasping her fingers instead. Lacing his huge ones through her tapered ones. Weaving together and making them one. “Okay. I’ll wait, but it won’t be easy. Because it’s really hard.”

  Eloise suppressed one final shudder, recalling Trevor’s words from so long ago. This is not that night. Put it behind you, for God’s sake. Let it go. She refused to let the past ruin this moment. One that might never be repeated because it was dipped in perfection.

  “It’s not far,” she repeated. “You’ll love my condo. It has great views.”

  His eyes narrowed in passion. “El, nothing could be more magnificent than the view inside this car.”

  After the town car pulled up to her building, they hurried inside, laughing and running like kids. Cole tugged her arm so hard it cracked in protest. In the elevator, he caged her body against one wall with his own, kissing her neck, her cheeks, her forehead. Eloise sank back and relished the moment, fully aware the security cameras were getting an eyeful. Not caring. She felt weak, drunk on his kisses and the tantalizing scent of his cologne. She fought her way to the doors as they slid open on her floor.

  “This is me,” she said, leading him to her corner suite at the end of the hall.

  Unlocking the door, Cole let out a long whistle at her copious collection of plants. “Holy cow. This is some grow-op. Don’t suppose you’re incubating any of the Devil’s lettuce?” A waggle of his eyebrows accompanied his question. “If there is, I’m going to be pissed you held out. That would have been the perfect accessory to my Rastafarian costume tonight.”

  “There most certainly is not,” she said, his comment taking her by surprise as she shrugged out of her jacket and removed her tall boots. “Please tell me that’s a joke? Or, that you only toked up once in college on a lark. Professional athletes cannot partake in the drug scene. It’s bad enough that you ingest alcohol.”

  Weed had been virtually everywhere in the college campuses she’d attended, but she was always too deep in her studies, too much the sheltered Midwest girl to even consider partaking.

  “Hmm, too bad,” he said, gathering her in his arms again. “It could significantly enhance the experience.”

  “Am I not enough of an experience for you?” she asked in mock insult.

  He bent his head close to her ear. “I’ll let you know,” he said, his sexy voice sending shivers down her spine and to other private places. “Which way to the bedroom?”

  “Take your coat and shoes off and I’ll show you.”

  His signature grin flashed, the killer dimple creasing his cheek. “Lead on, milady,” he said, prying his woven leather loafers off each foot with the toes of the other and dropping his jacket to the expensive hardwood floor.

  “Don’t you hang your things up?”

  “My ‘thing’ is already hung up big time right now,” he said, grabbing her around her waist and hoisting her onto his shoulder. “This way?” He pivoted, carrying her Shrek-style as he started in the direction of the hallway. It wasn’t hard to guess the location of the bedroom.

  Ordinarily, she’d be horrified at his guerilla tactics – her attitude toward Ryder springing to mind. But tonight she only wanted to block out the past, focus on the here and now and just feel – really feel an emotional connection to a man that totally turned her on. The first one ever.

  “That way,” she said, gesturing straight ahead as her head and arms flopped in rhythm to his steps, her long brown locks swaying in a pendulum-like rhythm.

  He laid her on her silk-covered duvet, the bed giving way with a squeak as he flopped next to her. “Let me get the light,” she said, rolling over and reaching for the touch-control on a sleek chrome bedside lamp. Its soft, muted light cast a surreal glow across the room.

  “Are you sure,” his handsome face became touched with a poignant vulnerability. A look she’d never seen before. It made her fall even harder. So hard she feared she might never recover from the impact. “I’d be willing to bet a Benjamin that you’ve never taken someone like me home with you.”

  “Someone like you,” Eloise parroted, lost in confusion.

  “A hockey thug.”

  She caught her breath and shook her head. “Hardly. Most likely, you’ll end up in the Hall of Fame one day. Besides, didn’t Murphy spring for mirrors in the locker room? Have you seen yourself lately? Women in a coma would want you.”

  He chuckled at her words and puffed his chest out, drawing her eyes to his perfectly sculpted torso, itching to run her fingers over the indentations of his abs. “You find me hot? Sounds like a public relations nightmare. Shh… if you don’t tell Michelle Batiste, then I won’t.”

  She lay there, gazing into his eyes that burned with blue fire. His hand slid under her chin and stroked the line of her jaw. “Eloise,” he whispered. “You’re very special. I hope you know that.”

  “Mmm, why don’t you just keep telling me,” she said, her breath expelling on low pants, laced with yearning. Those fingers that clutched a stick for the game-winner and enchanted the crowd with his guitar traced a path from her jaw down her throat and into the hollow of her collarbone. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath. Dipping his tousled head toward her chest, his hand glided downward, hovering over her breast but not landing.

  Touch me, Cole.

  “I’m telling you now. Past. Present. Future. You could have your choice of any hot guy you wanted, Eloise. I’m glad you chose me.”

  She stared at him a long moment, her expression lined with understanding, like she suddenly saw through to his soul. It was both comfortable and comforting. Eloise felt like this man belonged here in her home. In her bed.

  “I could not have my pick of any hot guy,” she argued. “But even if they lined up the entire roster of the NHL naked before me, I’d pick you.”

  He laughed. “That image might scar me for life, woman. I’ve seen most of the guys in the NHL naked. We won’t even mention Shredder, who likes to waltz around our place sans towel like a glove wielding puck basket. I like my odds.”

  “Then take me. Now.”

  ***

  Cole didn’t think he could want a woman as much as he wanted Eloise Robertson. The desire coursed through his blood as if it had heated the liquid past the boiling point. But something else lingered on the sigh of his breath. Something he couldn’t define and didn’t want to. Because he’d never felt it before.

  His cock responded to the soft-spoken demand she’d issued, just as it had every fucking time he’d been in her presence. With his total lack of restraint, Cole was surprised she hadn’t fled from any further interactions with him, shocked by his baser desires. Only this time, there was no shock on either side. Only need. Yearning. A want so powerful it threatened to overtake his well-established control.

  “Eloise, you are going to leave this bedroom so well fucked, you won’t even know your own name,” he promised, moving his fingers from her face to slide them into the heavy mass of her chestnut hair. Damn. He loved the silky feel and the weight of it in his palm. What would she do if he yanked it? Instead, he cupped her scalp and tipped her head back so she was forced to look directly into his eyes.

  He claimed her lips again, but this time, he unleashed the full fervor of his passion. Every skill at
his fingertips he brought into play, allowing his emotions to pour between them in a river of lust. Searching, his lips claimed every nuance of her mouth and then his tongue slid past the barrier to mesh with hers.

  Heat.

  The only word Cole could summon from the recesses of his brain was molten hot lava. An eruption of hunger. For the first few seconds, she seemed surprised by the ardor of his appetite for her, but then she surrendered and wrapped her arms around him so she could return the fevered kiss with an onslaught of her own.

  He slid one hand down the curve of her spine to caress the rounded globe of her ass cheek, drawing her hard against him, letting her feel how fucking hard she made him. So hard, steel couldn’t compare. She made a soft purr of pleasure into his mouth, their breaths mingled and he barely pulled away.

  “I am?”

  “I speak the truth.”

  Her hand started at his shoulder and ran down the length of his torso to land on the button fly of his jeans.

  “I want to feel it,” she whispered, staring.

  “Oh, you will. But there’s something I’ve wanted to do since the first time I saw you lick a speck of powdered sugar from your lush lips. And I won’t wait.”

  She said nothing but stared at him through hooded lids. Slowly, she nodded her ascent and didn’t argue as he gave a slight push with his palm that sent her tumbling back onto the mattress in exactly the prone position he’d hoped for. He returned to kissing her, tasting every inch of skin he exposed and claiming her mouth with his own.

  And while he set to touching and licking Eloise into mad thrashing, he began to push at her leggings, sliding them down her shapely legs. Her skin felt like the finest silk, and he loved the smoothness and length of her legs. Damn it. He wanted them wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her slick heat and she writhed beneath him in a wicked dance of passion.

  Cole stroked a hand up El’s thigh, and she gasped, clamping her eyes shut. Her head fell back on a strangled sigh. He examined her gorgeous face as he massaged the sensitive flesh there. Teasing. Tormenting. Using her labored breathing to know just how far to push her. Those lush lips trembled.

  With one final deft movement, he swept her black lacy thong from her body until her bare pussy was exposed. And perfect. Parting her folds, he used his fingers to lightly graze her sex until she squirmed and moaned. She pushed up against his hand as if asking for more. And he’d give it.

  “I want to touch you, Eloise. Then, I want to taste you.”

  She swallowed hard, her lips opening and closing like she struggled for breath. The fisting of her hands in the cool bedsheets gave her away as well as the rosy complexion on her face. Hadn’t any of her prior lovers gotten her off like this? He let just the fingertip slide over her sensitive outer folds, and she sucked in a hard breath. This woman was going to come and come hard if it was the last thing he ever did.

  He stroked one finger along her slit with expert care, feeling the heat, reveling in it. She tightened her legs and wiggled so he pushed up a little farther, entering her, feeling her inner walls tighten for him. Cole smiled, even though her eyelids had fluttered closed against his onslaught and sought her clit with his thumb as he moved within her.

  He flicked it, intrinsically knowing her unique rhythm. He’d felt at one with this woman since their first encounter. Cole watched as her breath grew short and her spectacular breasts lifted toward him. Seeking. But for now – well, he couldn’t and wouldn’t wait to taste her. She was on the cliff, ready to fall and he wanted to taste that on his tongue.

  Cole slithered down her flushed body and leaned in so he could touch his mouth to her. Eloise gasped and stiffened, her head falling to the side with clamped eyes. He waited until she opened her unique eyes, speared her with his own and brushed her tenderly with just the heat of his breath. Making her wait. Making her beg with the renewed thrashing of her body. Soon, she’d plead with her words. He opened his mouth and slid his tongue between her folds. She bucked underneath the pressure of his mouth.

  He began to swirl his tongue over her engorged clit, delighting in her response. Shame on him for ever believing some asshats bullshit. They’d had blinding electricity between them since their first meeting. He should have known and he’d make it up to her. Now.

  As he sucked the swollen bud deep in his mouth, he rubbed a thumb over her entrance, and then two fingers. The tips of them dipped inside her and she raised her hips in a frantic attempt to get closer. He chuckled at her frenzied motions, the humming causing her to moan on a heavy exhale. He slid his fingers all the way inside her tight heat and pumped them as he continued to lick and suck her.

  “Cole, please …”

  “Please, what?”

  “I want to come with you inside me. Please.”

  He couldn’t deny her fevered plea so he rose to his feet so he could dispense with his jeans and boxer briefs. El remained still on the bed, staring at him underneath her sooty eyelashes. Her eyes widened when he finally leaned over her.

  “Inside me. Now.”

  Cole positioned himself between her legs and drove home in one slick, delicious thrust. Stars appeared before his eyes. Holy mother of God. Her body was so tight around his cock, it felt vacuum sealed. Shit. He’d never felt anything like it. Slowly, Cole began to move. He’d had his eyes shut, but he wanted to look at Eloise. To witness the proof of pleasure on her face at their joining together in this unbelievable way. But instead of ecstasy, her eyes were filled with unshed tears. He stopped at once and waited until she met his gaze. Hers tortured and aching.

  “What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?”

  “Of course not,” she murmured, but the words popped out on a muffled sob. Cole Fiorino had made a woman cry when he was balls deep. This shit just didn’t happen to him. His heart pounded until she spoke again. “Please, don’t stop. It’s not what you think. I need this. I need you.”

  Cole began to move again at her impassioned plea. The time for recriminations and explanations could come later. Whatever or whoever had burned a scar on her soul would be eradicated with the tenderness of his feelings for this woman. The one he was falling for with every breath in his body.

  Reaching between them, Cole used his right thumb to stroke her clit until she closed her eyes again. A single, solitary tear ran in a rivulet down her face. He wanted so badly to swipe it away but he couldn’t do that and make her come at the same time. And an orgasm for her was far more important. It felt imperative.

  The moment Cole felt her contract around him, his world exploded in a burst of color and sensation so overwhelming, he almost passed out. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through him, and all he could do was gasp for air as they threatened to swallow him whole. He cried out El’s name on a roar of release. After a couple of ragged breaths, he collapsed beside her.

  “Wow,” he said, his breathing and heart rate returning to normal. “That was spectacular.” He raised his head, a dreamy smile on his face. But her face was still awash with tears. Cole sighed and raised his hand to gently wipe them all away. “What’s wrong?”

  Eloise winced and shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing is not a word in a woman’s vocabulary. The word is actually something. You’re sad, and that makes me sad. If you didn’t already know, my toes just curled.”

  “I’m not sad. It was spectacular for me too.” She managed a smile through her sniffles, a slight but very pathetic upward tug of her lips that more resembled a grimace. “Wait here. I need to use the bathroom, and I want to continue this conversation. You’re holding back, and I know just how to wheedle information from an unsuspecting woman.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Eloise watched his delectable naked ass disappear into the bathroom. So many thoughts crowded her brain, so many questions. She’d gone and cried at the beauty of the sensations he’d evoked, and now Cole was demanding answers. Like a naked come to Jesus meeting. But where to start? A chill passed over her, and she grabbed a corne
r of the duvet to draw it around herself, but the soft blanket did nothing to ease her fears. Eloise felt like she was unraveling in a tenuous string of emotion.

  Cole bounded back into bed. “Now, where were we, woman? Crying is not for the bedroom.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Eloise said, taking a fortifying breath.

  “Sure. Anything.” He lay on his side next to her and brushed some strands of her hair away from her face. The tender gesture tugged at her heart. Cole was most likely the love ‘em and get the hell out kind and his willingness to stay and talk about an uncomfortable subject spoke volumes about his value system.

  “What do hockey players want from a relationship?” she asked, calming herself so her shaky voice didn’t betray her. His answers meant the difference between staying and leaving. His answers meant everything.

  He stuck his lip out, pondering the question. “That covers a lot of territory. I know there are some stereotypical misconceptions out there, but I can only tell you what I want from a relationship.”

  “And that is?”

  “Trust. Loyalty. High standards… not just in pastries,” he said, leaning in close and tapping her on the nose. “Someone who’d support my ideals and my career, I guess. Have my back no matter what. Someone I could be proud of.”

  “Oh. What about children?”

  “What about them?”

  She exhaled in exasperation. “Do you want children someday?”

  Cole propped himself up on his elbow. “Of course. As many as I can afford to support. I couldn’t disappoint an Italian grandmother-in-waiting.” He regarded her curiously. “Do you interrogate all your lovers after sex about their intentions? Good grief, Eloise, you’re as serious as a heart attack. Next time, remind me to get you more liquored up.”