Sweet Distraction: Stag Brothers Book 1

by Lainey Davis

  I tell him how I used fresh Amish butter from a farm about an hour away and ordered eggs from them, too. "See the color? The yolks are almost saffron. You don't get anything like that at the grocery store." I smile.

  I see a vein tick in Tim's neck as he eats, and I'm surprised by how delighted I am that he likes my food. He finishes chewing and says, "I'd really love for you to come with me to the arena, Alice. I'm pretty sure I've got a turtleneck in my office. You could wear that and I'd be happy to get you one of my brother's jerseys. You should probably have a Stag jersey for work purposes, anyway, since he is a client."

  Holy shit, he's offering to let me wear one of his shirts, I think, wondering if he can see the wet spot I'm sure is appearing in my pants at the thought of slipping his shirt over my head. It would be nice to see everyone from work in a social atmosphere. What the hell, I decide, and nod. "As long as you buy me a whisky to warm me up if my legs get cold." And then I feel breathless, because Tim Stag smiles at me.

  Eight

  TIM

  I try not to think about sitting with Alice Peterson for three hours, knowing she's wearing my shirt. I run to get a black turtleneck from my emergency drawer as she quickly washes the dishes. When I hand her the shirt, I realize it will be comically large on her small body. At six feet, I'm the shortest Stag brother, but I'm still about a foot taller than Alice and a great deal bigger than her all around.

  I may not be a professional hockey player like my brother, but I run five miles most days and hit the gym with a merciless trainer whenever I'm not pounding the pavement. I hand Alice the shirt and she laughs. We walk down the hall to the bathroom and I know she's in there changing her shirt. Slipping my shirt onto her smooth skin. I shiver a bit at the thought, but Alice walks out of the door toward me.

  She stuffs the tank into her messenger bag and looks around the kitchen, turning off the light. "Should we head over? Are we walking to the arena?"

  Dazed, I shake my head and text my car service. "My driver will take us to the VIP entrance," I tell her. "We can stop and buy a jersey for you when we get to the arena." Before I can stop myself, I place my hand on the center of her back to guide her down the hall toward the elevator. I swallow and close my eyes as she stands in front of me, asking questions about the game. When she gives her hair a shake, I'm hit again with the exotic combination of smells that must seep from her pores.

  "I'm just going to text my dad and tell him not to expect me later," she says, tapping out a message on her phone. She laughs. "He'll have to fend for himself for dinner. Someone else is going to feed me for a change!"

  By the time we reach the curb, she's told me about her father and brothers and plumber uncle, all of whom were expecting her to cook them Sunday dinner. I don't feel the slightest bit bad for them, though. I'm about to slide into a car beside her, the smell of limes and ginger--that's what was in the smoothie, I think, fresh ginger!--hovering around her like an aura of light.

  My driver, Joe, looks shocked to see me emerge from the building with a woman. I quickly introduce her as our newest employee, but he gives me a look as he opens the door for her. Joe knows I'm thinking unprofessional thoughts about my corporate chef. I curse the comfortable width of the back seat as Alice slides to the opposite window, which she opens to cheer along with a group of drunken tailgaters as we stop at a red light. "I thought you didn't follow hockey," I say when she finishes shouting 'Let's go, Fury!' like a seasoned pro.

  "I might not follow hockey, but I know how Pittsburghers support their home teams," she says. "I'm a Pittsburgh girl, born and raised."

  "What neighborhood?" I ask her, curious.

  "My family lives on North St. Clair in Highland Park," Alice replies. "I think I told you--or maybe I only started to--you went to high school with my sister, Amy. And one of your brothers graduated with my brother Ryan. From Peabody."

  I stare at her, open-mouthed, remembering. I whisper, "The Peterson house. I mowed your lawn for awhile when your mother was sick."

  She nods and her face lights with recognition. "Well, I don't actually remember you per se, but I do remember my dad hired neighborhood kids to help out for awhile so he and Ry and Dan could spend as much time with mom as we could."

  How could I have spent most of my life living a half mile away from this glorious, wild creature and only met her now? We pull in front of the VIP entrance and Joe opens Alice's door. He grins at me as he catches me staring while Alice walks toward the arena, handing her bag to the security guard to search. "I could get used to this," she says, gesturing around the deserted entry. "No lines! I guess it pays to have a brother on the team," she says.

  I shrug and laugh, telling her it's more lucrative to be the team's legal counsel. I try to remember the last time I laughed. The sound takes me by surprise, actually. This woman stirs reactions in me that I haven't felt in years. I've smiled more this week than I can remember smiling…maybe ever. I escort Alice into the pro shop, where we do have to wait in line. I see her notice the price tag on the Stag jersey I grab from the closest rack, but I wave away her protests. "No worries, Alice. This is a work uniform requirement." I smile again. "It'll be a tax write-off, I promise." I slide my Black Card across the sales counter, wondering if Alice will notice it and feel impressed. When she doesn't seem to respond, I am surprised to feel relieved. Not a gold digger, then.

  The women I usually take out are very much in tune with the Black Card and what it means I can buy for them. Expensive champagne. Dinners that come one, tiny portion at a time on plates drizzled with sauce they won't eat. Alice grabs my arm after sliding the jersey over her head and gasps, pointing across the concourse. "There's a Nakama in the arena! Can I get sushi?"

  I assure her she can get whatever she wants in the executive suite and try not to think about how she will look enjoying her food. She swims in the jersey, but I definitely like seeing her with my last name on her back. As we enter the suite, a chorus of cheers rings out. My staff is excited to see her, and I feel a sense of pride mingled with jealousy as she slips away into easy conversation with Juniper and some of the other associates. I chose all of them because they're good at their job, but I almost never interact with them socially. Alice slides among them as easily as if she'd known them for years. I hear her ask about their spouses, and they ask her questions about her siblings. This type of interaction is always so foreign for me. I try to avoid it, so I stand at the back of the room and just watch her. I see Donna looking at me with a raised eyebrow and then I feel myself flush. What is going on with me?

  I pull aside one of the wait staff and ask them to bring me a sampler platter from Nakama. Then I wait, anticipating the look on Alice's face when I hand her the tray of sushi.

  Nine

  ALICE

  I wonder if Juniper can tell that I'm a mess inside. I had to sit as far away from Tim as I could in the car so I would stop throbbing with desire for him. The way he put his hand on my back in the elevator left me breathless, and then walking into the arena on his arm? I need to get it together and remember that I work for him. The kind of women who date Timber Stag are the women who can afford the annual fees on the Black Card I saw him pull out to buy me this jersey.

  The announcer lists the starting players, and my co-workers all find seats in the box. Everyone got there before us and already picked the buffet clean, but just as I'm about to ask where I can grab a burger, I feel someone tap my shoulder. My boss is standing behind me holding a tray of what looks like every kind of sushi Nakama makes. I feel my jaw drop and he grins. "Your raw fish and rice, madam," he says.

  "You are my hero," I blurt out before I pop a piece of sashimi into my mouth. "I'm starving.” I close my eyes--this is delicious. “Mmmm, that’s soooo good! I can't believe you bought me sushi. At a hockey arena." Tim nods his head toward two seats in the back row of the box. The seats are amazing--we are looking down right over the middle of the ice and even though we are high up, the glass front of the box retracts until i
t feels like we are just above the players. "Is that your brother," I ask, pointing to the tall player with shaggy hair and eyes like Tim's. He nods and I can see his pride in his brother as Ty skates a lap around the ice, enjoying the cheers as his name is announced.

  And then Tim's arm touches mine on the armrest between our seats and I can't think straight. The blood is pounding in my ears. I keep my head facing the ice, trying to concentrate on the game, wondering if I imagined the heated moment we shared in the kitchen earlier. My skin burns where it's pressed against his and I squirm in my seat as my desire shifts south in my body. And suddenly, the arena erupts as Ty Stag scores a goal just a few minutes into the game.

  Everyone around us jumps to their feet, cheering and hugging. I get swept away in the excitement, giving out high fives, and turning to hug the nearest person to me. Who is, of course, Tim. I pull back from the hug and I can barely breathe. I want so badly to be pressed against his body again. His grey eyes are molten and I see him swallow, his Adam's apple rising and falling. I know I'm not the only one feeling the heat.

  We sit back down as the game resumes, but Tim keeps his eyes locked on me. I feel his hand move to my knee, those long, strong fingers gently stroking my leg until I whimper, my desire for him magnified by the fact that we are here at his brother's hockey game and there's no way we can do anything. Can we?

  The light above the goal signals a television timeout, and he leans in. "Come with me," he says. It's not a question, and I nod, following him to a private elevator outside the executive suite. He pulls a key card from his wallet and pushes the button for the conference room. Once we are inside the elevator, I gasp as he pushes me against the wall, pressing his body against mine.

  "I want you, Alice," he says, his voice ragged, arms on either side of my face. I can't even get words out, I want him so much. "But I can't do anything about it, because you are my employee." My mind is racing, because I want this so much, and I also know that this would change everything at work.

  Or would it? Maybe we just need to do this, savor the experience, get it out of our system. "What if this is just…what if just once…"

  "Just once."

  I nod and he crashes his lips against mine. I moan into his mouth, finally digging my fingers into his hair. I feel him bite my lower lip and as the elevator door opens, his hands slide under my ass and he lifts me against his body.

  I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks us into the conference room, slamming the door behind us by kicking it shut. I can taste his urgency as he kisses me hungrily. The rough stubble on his cheeks rasps against the skin of my neck as he dips his head, kissing and biting his way down my body and placing me on the edge of the huge conference table.

  I start to worry about what this will mean for my job, how I'll ever look at him the same way again at work. But then his hands find my nipples beneath his turtleneck and I stop caring. Tim's thumbs rub my sensitive nubs until they are hard as cherry pits, poking through my sports bra. I moan, loving his ministrations while he continues to kiss the skin along the side of my neck.

  I run my hands along his abs, surprised at the rock-hard muscle I feel beneath his shirt. How did I not notice that my boss has the body of an Adonis beneath those tailored suits he wears every day to work? I begin to pull his shirt over his head, desperate to feast my eyes on him. I lick one of his nipples and his eyes fly wide open, meeting mine. He looks wild, unmoored, and I love that I've gotten him to this state.

  I pull away from him and begin to peel off my own clothes as he unsnaps his jeans. They slide to the floor and I can see his erection tenting his black boxer briefs. I reach out a hand to touch the impossibly-large bulge and grin, saying, "What have you got for me, Mr. Stag?"

  "Jesus, Alice," he hisses, ripping down my running tights and panties in one tug. "Say that again." He pulls my legs so that I'm on the very edge of the table and I lean back on my elbows as he spreads my knees wide.

  I am totally bared for him and as I watch him slide down his briefs I see the stiff rod of his cock and I groan. It's huge, and a drop of pre-cum glistens on the tip as he strokes himself. "Fuck me, Mr. Stag," I whisper.

  Ten

  TIM

  I have never heard anything as sexy in my entire life as Alice fucking Peterson asking me to fuck her. And she called me Mr. Stag. I hate that this turns me on even more, but my dick has taken total control of my brain by this point.

  "Are you on the pill, Alice," I ask as I dip my hand to her sweet center. Her blond curls are as wild below as they are on her head, and I think it's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen until I look at her face while my fingers spread her slick folds.

  She's so fucking wet and her eyes have gone a deep violet as her pupils dilate huge and black. I slide one finger inside her tight, pulsing tunnel and I can barely stand to wait for her answer. "Are you, Alice?"

  I stop stroking her and she nods. "Yes. Please, Tim."

  Sliding in a second finger, I press the pad of my thumb against her clit. I have to watch her come. I have to see her face when I send her over the edge. She starts to groan and her hips buck up against my hand. Her shirt and bra are rolled up around her shoulders and her bare breasts heave as I stroke her clit. Her head drops back and she screams when I take a taut nipple in my mouth as I start circling her clit faster. I suck on her breasts, which are every bit as soft and round as I imagined. I move between them, using my left hand to heft their weight and press them together while I pump my right hand in and out of her body. I feel her start to squeeze my finger with her pussy and I know she's close. I lift my head from her chest so I can watch her face.

  "Come for me, Alice. I want to see you." I never talk this way during sex. I don't know where this is coming from, but as I finish my sentence, Alice erupts. I feel her pussy contract around my fingers and she moans my name again and again.

  "Yes! Tim, yes. I'm coming. I'm coming!"

  The sound is almost enough to take me over the edge without even sliding inside her, but I have to feel her, and as she finishes the waves of her orgasm, I line up at the entrance to her body and slide inside. Alice gasps as I fill her, but I am beyond consciousness at this point. I'm mad with lust for her and I begin to thrust in and out. Her pussy is liquid velvet against my skin. I've never been inside a woman without a condom before. Never. But fuck, this feels incredible. I lean my weight on my hands, on either side of her head, kissing her sweet mouth again as I set a furious pace.

  I hear the sounds of our bodies slamming together and Alice starts moving her hips along with mine. She clings to my shoulders with her soft skin pressed against my chest. I lose myself in the scent of her, the feel of her. As she moans my name again and again I know I'm not going to last. "Alice," I gasp. "Come with me!"

  I slide a hand between us, right above the place our bodies are joined, and begin to circle her clit. Then I feel it. Alice's orgasm has her almost convulsing around my dick, and as her tight muscles milk my shaft, I moan her name. "Holy fuck, I'm coming." I feel jets of my heated release fire into her and when it ends, I collapse on top of her on the table, spent.

  Panting together, we lie on the table where I've signed multi-million dollar contracts for my clients. A conference room where I'll never again be able to work without seeing Alice Peterson's face as she lost herself and I gave control over to something larger than myself. Whatever happened here was so much more than just fucking.

  When I can finally breathe again, I roll off of Alice's body to lie beside her on the table, one hand playing with those amazing breasts. I try to figure out what comes next, because one thing is for damn sure. Fucking Alice once did not get her out of my system.

  I already need to make her come again, to watch the pleasure move across her face and throughout her body. There's so much more of her I haven't yet tasted. No--this cannot happen again, and yet I know I need to have her. All of her.

  She rolls onto one side and lifts her head onto her bent arm. She smiles at me and s
ays, "That was pretty incredible." I nod and reach behind her head, pulling on her hair tie until her curls fall loose around her face, wild and unkempt and smelling amazing. Her words are muffled through the curtain of hair. "We should probably go back down, though, don't you think? And watch your brother play?" She bites her lower lip and I know she's right, but damn if I'm not already hard again.

  Reluctantly, I climb off the table and help her down. We manage to get dressed and into the elevator. When the door opens, I look around, but everyone is back in their seats. I motion for Alice to go ahead of me and I tell her I'll bring her a drink. The reason for our absence will be obvious to everyone if we re-enter together. I hang back at the door to the suite and watch her sit. All I can think about is that Alice has my cum dripping out of her pussy.

  Eleven

  TIM

  "Y ou're in a good mood," Donna says when she gets to the office on Monday. I'm not sure how she can tell from across the room until she tells me she heard me whistling from the hallway.

  She's not wrong. I feel fantastic. After the game, I asked Joe to drive Alice home since I was meeting my family for the after-party. She, of course, refused the offer and said she was going out with Juniper to celebrate a Fury win. I felt so relaxed after the game that I even agreed to do a shot with my brothers--I rarely drink liquor. I spent too many nights in high school mopping up bourbon-scented vomit when my father stumbled in the door wasted. The smell of it turns my stomach.

  But my little brother scored two goals in a Stanley Cup final and I screwed the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. I didn't even get angry when Dad showed up at the club wanting to congratulate Ty. I did have security send him away, though. Fuck him. If he can't be there for our lows, he doesn't get to enjoy the highs.