Resistance on Ice - SR GREY

by Grey, S. R.

“Nolan, that’s disgusting.”

  “Sorry, but it’s true.”

  I feel bad for encouraging this kind of shitty gossip about my friend, especially when he’s actually cut down significantly on his once-steady stream of puck bunnies. But there are still a few, and there is a directory. Whoring around is the last addiction Benny’s fighting.

  Speaking of whoring around, Lainey really needs to lie back in the chair like a normal person. She’s still twisted toward me, and now half a goddamn nipple is peeking out. I’m going to attack her if this persists. Though, come to think of it, maybe I should be doing that. It’d certainly be a bold move.

  Pointing the tube of sunscreen at her luscious tits, and directly to the side with the nip slip, I say, “You want me to put some of this on your chest? You’re looking a little pink right about there.” I wiggle the tube and looking down, she finally notices how her bikini top has shifted and left a nip exposed.

  “Nolan!” She hurries to cover up. “How long have I been like that?”

  “Not long enough,” I lament.

  That earns me a scowl, and a reminder. “We’re just friends, Nolan.”

  “What-the-fuck-ever.”

  Oh, now she’s mad. “You…you…” Lainey picks up a towel and snaps it, hard as fuck, at my thigh.

  “Ow, that shit hurts, you know,” I bite out.

  “Aww,” she mocks, “poor little Nolan. Does he want me to kiss his tender skin and make it all better?”

  So much for just-friends. I look over at her, raise a brow. “Is that an invitation?”

  She’s staring at my thigh area, where there is a developing red mark. But it’s not her handiwork that holds her attention. No, she’s focused on what’s up a little higher—namely, my hard cock.

  She lets out a little groan, all lusty-like, and that’s all I need. I’m on her so fast she has no time to react.

  Breathless, she presses back against the lounger. “Nolan, what are you doing?”

  I tear my sunglasses off, and tossing them aside, I ask, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  With my arms caged around her, I watch her every move, evaluating her every reaction. She wants me, it’s clear. But she’s hesitating.

  “Maybe we should discuss this first.”

  “Discussion later,” I growl. “I have only one question for you right now.”

  “And that is…”

  “Do you want me to touch you…love you…make you come?”

  “Oh God, Nolan, you can’t say things like that.”

  “Why the hell not? It’s what I want to do.”

  “Yeah, but hearing you say those things makes me want that too.”

  “Good,” I say softly, my hand in her hair, cradling her head. “That means we’re on the same page.”

  When she doesn’t resist, I reach down and part her legs. “Should I stop?” I ask as I lower my body to hers.

  “No.”

  I center myself then, my full length pressed to her pussy. When I start dry-humping her slowly, she gasps, “Just this once, Nolan. And no fucking, okay?”

  “Wait, what?”

  I still, and she looks up at me and frowns. “Because we have to go back to being friends, Nolan, that’s why. If I let you inside me, I won’t be able to do that.”

  I think ‘let you inside’ might mean more than with my cock, but good. I’m done with this stupid friends farce. I’m ready to share my heart. I think. Though I’m not sure how much I should share. I’ll worry about it later, after. My dick is too hard for me to think rationally right now.

  I agree, albeit reluctantly, to her silly no-fucking stipulation. It’s fine, as there are still many, many things I can do to her. Like slipping two fingers into her bikini bottoms, which I do now, and finding her slick and ready, start finger-fucking her.

  “Lainey, fuck, you are so goddamn wet.” I plunge into her again, stretching her. “I almost forgot how fucking tight you always are.”

  “So open me up, Nolan. I want you to make me yours.”

  “Oh, I’m going to,” I assure her. And I am. I don’t need my cock to do that.

  Leaning down, I kiss her parted lips. But she’s panting so much from me touching her that she has to turn away to catch her breath.

  “The things you do to me…” she murmurs.

  “Do you like?”

  “Yes.”

  When she tightens around my fingers, I know she’s close. Reaching down, she starts stroking my straining cock through my swim trunks. Soon, she’s begging me to “take them off.”

  But taking them off would require moving, and Lainey’s about to fall apart…

  Ah, and then she does, bucking her hips, crying out my name.

  After she comes back down to earth, she tells me, all sexy-like, “I want to suck you while you finger me some more.”

  “Fuck.” I love when Lainey gets bossy and talks dirty.

  I wrench down my swim trunks, complying with her request, and then move up to where her head is resting against the chair.

  Carefully, I touch the tip of my cock to her soft lips, commanding her to, “Lick it, Lainey. Taste me.”

  She takes me into her mouth hungrily, like she can’t get enough, and growling, I finally get her damn bikini bottoms off completely. I plunge three fingers in her, my thumb meanwhile working her clit.

  Good “friend” that I am, and giving “friend” that she is, we spend the next half an hour using our fingers and mouths to make each other come over and over again, under the hot Vegas sun.

  Only problem is afterward, no bold moves of the talking variety take place. There’s no real discussion, not like I planned. There is a little bit of kissing, and a tender moment or two, but in the end neither of us says a word about what just happened. Nor do I share a thing about what’s in my heart.

  So much for follow through, Solvenson.

  Life Goes On

  I thought he’d stop me from leaving. Maybe capture my wrist as I tied my bikini top back into place and beg me to stay so we could discuss what just happened.

  But no, Nolan did nothing, even as I waited for him to do something.

  Frustrated, I jumped up and glared down at him, aggravated beyond belief. He was back to lying on the chaise lounge and his eyes were closed like he had not a care in the world. I guess he’d gotten what he wanted.

  Giving up on prolonging my anguish, I snapped, “I’m going home.”

  His eyes flew open, and since his sunglasses were lying over by the pool where he’d tossed them, he had to shield his gaze from the glaring sun with his hand.

  “You don’t have to leave,” he said, squinting.

  “Yeah,” I replied, words clipped, “I actually really do.”

  I sensed hesitation on his part then. He looked like he was about to say something. And if there was ever a time he needed to speak, it was then. We’d just done something that deviated wildly from our carefully constructed friend-zone.

  But had it all been doomed to fail from the start?

  I think so. I can see that now.

  I stared down at him. My one brow was raised the way he so often does. “Do you want to talk, Nolan? Like really talk?”

  “Do you?” he threw back.

  I sighed mightily. “I really think, at this point, I’ve said everything I could.” It’s your turn now, I thought, but didn’t add. Maybe I should have, though, because he let me walk.

  And here I am now, alone. That all happened yesterday, and I’ve still not heard a thing from him. There’ve been no texts, no calls. I could break and make the first move, but what would that prove? Only that I’m weak when it comes to Nolan, which I already so vividly displayed twenty-four hours ago when his dick was in my mouth.

  Crap. I’ve already put too much on the line. It’s bad enough he clammed up after saving me at the strip club. I should’ve known messing around with him would be a huge mistake.

  And it is, was, shit. I need a break from him.

  I
guess that’s why I’m feeling relieved he left to go on the road with the team early this morning. I know this because Brent’s gone too. The Wolves are headed up to Canada for a long road trip, which should give me some much-needed time to think.

  One thing for sure—this friendship biz has failed. I mean, come on. Bringing each other to orgasm out by the pool is not what friends normally do. Maybe they offer a shoulder to cry on, or hit up stores together. Grabbing lunch on your days off is good too. But the last time I checked, putting your friend’s cock in your mouth—while said friend has his fingers buried so deeply inside you it feels like he’s a part of you—is generally not typical buddy behavior.

  Oh, who are you kidding? I stare at my reflection in the mirror above the dresser in my room. You knew this was going to happen sooner or later. And really, look at you now. You may as well be wearing a freaking scarlet letter, declaring to the world what you did.

  Sighing, I turn my face from side to side, assessing the streaky sunburn I’m sporting, courtesy of yesterday’s indiscretion. It’s not gone unnoticed by Aubrey, either. She’s been giving me curious glances ever since this morning. I was more discreet yesterday, but I made the mistake of emerging from my bedroom for breakfast makeup-less.

  The problem is not just my sunburned—and now starting to peel—nose. It’s that half my face is burned, and the other half is merely slightly tanned. It looks really funky. And for all you newbies out there, let this be a lesson learned—don’t blow a guy with your head turned when under a scorching desert sun, especially not when your sunscreen has worn off.

  I tried to reapply a fresh coat after our, uh, activities, but Nolan distracted me before I got to my face. In an uncharacteristic moment of unguarded tenderness, he pushed our chaise lounges so close together that when I turned to see what was up, our lips were inches apart.

  He closed the gap before I could protest—not that I would have—and kissed the crap out of me.

  It was sweet and tender, and I was so damn sure it’d lead to declarations of…something. Maybe love?

  “Lainey,” he murmured reverently against my lips when we came up for air.

  I was breathless, dizzy, drunk on too many orgasms and now Nolan’s lips. When I couldn’t reply, he chuckled, and then he kissed me again.

  I fell for him a little more in that moment. Okay, more like a lot more. That’s why I was hoping we’d talk—like, really talk—after those unguarded moments of afterplay.

  But, of course, that didn’t happen.

  The kissing ended, and we both grew quiet. He got up and moved our chairs apart. I swear he seemed like he was building up to say something. But he never did, and that’s when I left.

  I shake my head, watching me say no to my reflection in the mirror. “This can’t go on,” I say to my sad self.

  Maybe it’s time to do more than simply take a break from Nolan? We could always cut ties altogether, seeing as friendship isn’t working. I just can’t help but want more from him, more than he’s willing to give.

  Swallowing hard, because this option is far from appealing, I pick up a tube of concealer and start dabbing some onto my pink nose and left cheek. The burn was far more prominent yesterday, so when I arrived home from Nolan’s, I locked myself in my bedroom and slathered on aloe vera gel and far more correcting makeup than I’m applying right now.

  I had to do that before I faced anyone in the house.

  My makeup was spot-on once I was done and no one suspected a thing for the rest of the day, not even Aubrey or Brent when we all ate dinner together. But then damn Brent had to stop by my room last night, after I’d washed off all the makeup. There was no time to run and reapply, so I thought “what the hell” and opened the door, greeting him with a Rudolph-red nose and half-red face.

  He peered at me, perplexed as all get out. He opened his mouth to say something, but I held up my hand and swished it around, as if to say stop right there.

  And then I actually did say, “Please, Brent, don’t ask any questions or make a single smartass comment.”

  He nodded distractedly, still focused on my crazy burn.

  “Okay,” he said at last, “I won’t say a word.” He shook his head, looked away. “That’s not why I stopped by, anyway.”

  I leaned my shoulder against the open door. “What’s up? Is everything good with you and Aubrey?”

  Brent sometimes comes to me to ask for little tips on how to deal with my sister, especially if she’s PMS-ing. But from the utter adoration in his whiskey-colored eyes at the mere mention of Aubrey, I surmised there was no raging hormone issue.

  Sure enough, softly and wistfully, the way only a man in love can do, he replied, “No, no, things are amazing with us.”

  “That’s good.” I smiled, truly happy for my sister and her beloved.

  Brent hesitated then, running a cursory glance over my sunburn again. Finally, he blew out a long breath.

  Uh-oh, is he gearing up to ask about me and Nolan?

  Worried he might, I hurried him along, hoping he’d get to his point if I made a production of yawning.

  “Oh my goodness,” I said, covering my mouth. “I’m so sorry, Brent. I am just so exhausted. I guess being out in the sun half the day has made me extra sleepy.”

  I winced, realizing I’d brought his attention back to my funky sunburn. He knew I’d spent the afternoon at Nolan’s. He had to be curious how I ended up with a half-burned face.

  But Brent, taking the hint, finally got to the real reason for his visit. “Hey, I’m not here to keep you up. I just wanted to let you know you should expect a call from the Wolves’ marketing department early tomorrow morning. The lady that runs the show over there could want you to be ready to interview as early as the afternoon.”

  “Wait, what?”

  It was amazing news. A little short on notice, yes, but amazing nonetheless. My days as a cocktail waitress might be mercifully numbered. The job was easy early on, but ever since tourist and convention season went into full swing I’ve had to deal with handsy drunken patrons almost every night.

  And it totally sucks.

  Brent continued, “I heard from the head of marketing a short while ago. There’s an opening, Lainey. She’s talked with a bunch of applicants, but no one has stood out for her. Anyway, she has an open interview slot tomorrow afternoon. I don’t know what time exactly, but she can tell you when she calls. I know it’s not much notice. That’s why I wanted to stop by and give you a head’s u—”

  I couldn’t hold back any longer. I was too excited that I had a possible escape from cocktail waitress hell. I flung my arms around my future brother-in-law and squeezed him.

  “Thank you so much, Brent.” I bounced up and down on my toes as I stepped back. “I don’t care if it’s short notice. I already know a ton of stuff about the Wolves, from you and Aubrey and…” I stopped, not wanting to utter Nolan’s name.

  “It’s only an entry-level position,” he warned, having not even noticed my trailing off. “So you may want to table those hugs till you see if it’s something you’d even be interested in.”

  “Are you kidding?” I snorted. “I don’t care if it’s nothing more than running around the city fetching coffee and doughnuts for the entire marketing team. Anything has to be better than getting pawed at every freaking night.” Oops, I said too much.

  His expression grew grim. “Is that what’s happening down at the casino, Lainey?”

  “Yes,” I uttered in a small voice, not wanting to worry him. “But only a little bit.”

  He looked concerned. “Hey, if things ever get too out of hand, you let me know immediately. I’ll be down there so fast people’s heads will spin.”

  “Wow, thanks.”

  “It wouldn’t be just me, either,” he went on. “Nolan and Benny, and hell, even Dylan, we’d all have your back.”

  I felt warm and happy hearing that. I love these guys. One more than the others, of course, and in a much deeper way, but I truly c
are for all of them.

  Smiling, I assured Brent, “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Even when it is we have security guards and bouncers on the premises to take care of things.”

  “Still, just remember we’re here if you need us.”

  I replied a heartfelt, “Thanks, Brent.”

  He seemed to mull something over, before he then said, “You probably shouldn’t mention any of this to Nolan. Let me talk to him first, especially if you ever really do need us. He’d go ballistic if he knew shit like that happens at your workplace.”

  Damn. Just as I suspected, Brent knows more than he lets on.

  But he is right about one thing—Nolan. If he ever got wind of half the harassment I put up with from some of the customers, he’d blow a gasket. He’d sure as shit show up at the casino to defend me too. That’d land him in some hot water with the team. And me, I’d probably get fired on the spot. It’d just be a bad scene all the way around.

  “I won’t mention a word to him,” I assured Brent. “I wasn’t planning to, anyway.”

  He gave me a kind smile, and I saw what Aubrey sees in him. He’s not only hot as hell, but he has a really sweet side. Who knew?

  “Maybe it won’t be a factor much longer,” he said. “If you get this marketing job you could quit the casino.”

  “And I would,” I replied.

  Brent gave me the details of who would be calling, some lady named Mrs. Fielding, and I thanked him again.

  So here I am now, preparing for the actual interview. Mrs. Fielding did indeed call this morning, and my slot is for three this afternoon.

  It’s now two o’clock.

  Crap, I can’t be late!

  I finish my makeup and dress in my best navy blue interview skirt, low heels, and blouse, all in record time. I’m actually early when I arrive at the Desert Sports Complex. I’m ready for this interview, armed with numerous notes from the research I stayed up late gathering on the team’s latest marketing efforts. I know a lot about the team itself, but I didn’t know much about their current strategies. I do now. Still, as I walk into the building, despite all my preparation, nerves overtake me. This is my first big interview since graduating, and I can’t blow it.