Playing To Win: The Complete King Brothers Collection (A Contemporary Romance Box Set)

by Teagan Kade

  “You said you wanted to show me something?”

  “Just relax.”

  She starts to dance, humming to herself and playing with the hem of her tank top.

  “A strip show?”

  She nods slowly, biting her lip. “Mmm-hmm.”

  She turns and shakes her butt, twerking at me. The silky PJ shorts she’s wearing leave little to the imagination as it is, but when she peels them down, the beautiful white of her ass on show, my cock stiffens to breaking point.

  She hops out of them, twirls them around on her finger, whipping them around and against the far wall.

  The TV illuminates her bare pussy, lets it blink on and off.

  She plays with the hem of her top again, tugging it back and forth, letting her legs drift apart. She dips, squatting and getting back up, top straining against the weight of her breasts.

  “Do you want to me to take it off?”

  I nod, enjoying the game.

  Slowly, painfully slowly, she lifts the top up and away, her breasts rising and then bouncing back into position when her arms fall and she stands there, completely naked, before me.

  Heavy need is already pulsing through me. I feel it between my legs, that longing for relief only a tight pussy can provide.

  My eyes trace down her body and I can tell the feeling is mutual. She looks unhinged, equally desperate.

  I watch as she traces a fingertip up and over her thigh. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.

  “Anything?” I query.

  “Anything, but first you have to wait.”

  I don’t know if I can. Already it’s taking all my willpower not to leap across the room and fuck her right there on the floor.

  She runs her fingers over her bare skin, lets one wander between her legs and slides it into herself, tipping her head back to let out a broken moan.

  “I want to come,” she tells me, finger darting in and out of her pussy. “I want to come and I want you to sit there and watch, powerless.”

  I twitch. “You sure about that?”

  She concentrates on her clit with two pressed fingers, guiding them into herself, rocking her hips against her hand.

  It’s the hottest sight I’ve ever seen, my cock a solid, molten bar between my legs.

  She seems to be reveling in the show. Desire comes off her in waves, almost visible to the eye. She’s channeling something profound and primal. It’s a side of her I haven’t seen until now, but I sure as hell like it.

  She talks dirty while she plays with herself, the movements becoming long and languid. She lets it build and grow, hands twisting between her legs, her nipples pinpointed in heat.

  She closes her eyes and grinds down against her fingers, moaning aloud and looking closer and closer to orgasm with each drawing second.

  I can’t keep my hands still. I want to touch her, taste her, fuck her in ways she hasn’t imagined yet, but I wait. I know she’s getting off having this control over me. She’s dizzy with it. I won’t deny her, but when it comes time for my turn, she’s going to know it. I won’t hold back.

  I growl with want, start to pull lightly at my cock.

  She runs her fingers inside herself until they disappear completely, her eyes, heavy with lust, flickering open to meet my own. “Is this what you like?”

  I nod, growling my approval.

  My skin’s prickling from top to bottom. It feels like I’m on fucking fire waiting here, watching.

  I see her take this lust and make it her own, use it to drive herself closer to the edge.

  She comes there on the spot watching me. Her mouth is a wide oval, each pant forcing her fingers deeper, thighs pressed together and knees flapping.

  She doesn’t stop watching me through her entire orgasm, eyes growing drunken with need and then the sweet release that follows, her fingers sliding out of her slick and glistening.

  I hadn’t realized I’ve been stroking myself faster, fisting my cock at the sight.

  She tosses her hair back and straightens up, slowly walking over to me. She straddles me, the full weight of her sinking onto my cock until we’re pressed together skin on skin.

  The stitching at my side stretches, but it seems safe enough.

  She winds her arms around me and looks deep into my eyes, at the strained desire there.

  “Fuck,” I groan, as she brushes her fingers over my lips still wet with her release.

  “Is that better, baby?”

  I nod, shifting upwards inside the heat of her pussy and feeling the impossible way it envelops every hard inch of me.

  Sex with Linnea has always been incredible, but this is something else, something different. The way she moves against me, shifting and rolling, groaning and tipping her head back, it shows a newfound confidence, or is it freedom? Maybe it’s the fact we’re finally safe, that the whole Rex thing is over, but she’s moving like a new woman.

  And I couldn’t be happier.

  I grunt as she sinks her fingers into my shoulders.

  “I want to leave a reminder,” she tells me. “I want to make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

  Soon she’s moving against me hard, lifting from my lap and falling onto my cock, levering against me with such energy I start to lose control.

  I look at her eyes and find them glazed and heavy, her lips slightly parted and the thought of doing whatever I desire to her, to make good on her promise, tightens my balls.

  Her head falls back. She lets out a long, strained moan, crying out in pleasure.

  Fuck who can hear us. Let the whole world hear for all I care.

  She knows she’s driving me crazy, even as I fill my hands with her ass and start to thrust back against her, heaving into her underside with everything I have.

  There’s pressure at my side where the stitches are, but I’m confident they’ll hold if I don’t get too energetic.

  She cries out again and I love listening to the sound of her pleasure, the way her vocal cords strain in abandon.

  “I want us to come together,” she tells me, voice breathy and tense with fresh need.

  I clench my jaw, force away the orgasm that was ready to spill over.

  “Wait,” she tells me, working against me, ankles kicking against the mattress with every thrust.

  “Yes,” she starts, voice growing. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  My teeth tighten together, cock straining inside her.

  I don’t know how much longer I can hang on.

  “Yes, yes, yes.”

  And with that final acknowledgement she comes like a thunderclap, pleasure rolling through her, her body rocking and trembling against me.

  I see her eyes clouded with longing and cannot hold back. I press upwards, dragging her down onto my cock and spilling myself inside her.

  I yell aloud, fingers clawing into her ass, cock pumping wild and endlessly.

  So ends the drought.

  EPILOGUE

  NOLAN

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  I check the clock. There’s thirty seconds left in this game and I’ll be damned if I’m going to hand it over to the Blackhawks.

  The crowd starts to chant as I move into position, sweeping long and left, calling for the puck.

  There’s no time to hesitate. It arrives and I dodge an attacker, swinging around the perimeter of the rink and lining up a slapshot.

  Five seconds.

  I’ve got all kinds of heat on me, but it’s too late to consider self-preservation now.

  I draw the stick back and fire.

  It’s a belter, sinks long and deep into the net.

  A second later I’m charged hard into the glass by two Blackhawks, a stick driven into my side.

  The buzzer goes and the place erupts.

  The Blackhawks release and I go slumping to the ice. My fellow Bruins arrive to help me up. There’s a minor twinge from where I was stabbed, the scar tissue looking less and less gnarly each day. I try not to let it show as the boys help me up and the
crowd gets to their feet. It’s taken Boston a while to come around to a country boy like me, but I’m making progress.

  I have a word with Coach, sign a few autographs on my way over to where Linnea is waiting. I don’t know why she’s wearing earmuffs, she’s never really been good with the cold.

  I open the gate and step through, security arriving to give us space. I take her in my arms and kiss her, never get tired of the taste of her lips, the feel of her against me.

  The stabbing never slowed me down. I wasn’t going to let that bitch Rex get the better of me.

  “You didn’t have to skate over here,” she tells me, smiling.

  “And miss my post-game kiss? Hell, no.”

  She looks around. “It’s a pity there’s a crowd. I’m not big into these public displays of affection.”

  “You’d prefer something a bit more private?” I tease.

  She nuzzles into my neck. “I would, but that can wait. Your fans need you.”

  My cock’s starting to swell, pressing against the cup I’m wearing. It reminds me of our morning session at The Turtle six months ago, though it feels like a lifetime away now. It’s going to be awkward if I stay much longer. “You know I can’t be without you,” I tell her.

  “I know.”

  I pull in a breath and let go, start out onto the ice when she calls my name.

  “Nolan.”

  I turn and skate back.

  She invites me closer and lowers her voice. “I heard from the commissioner this afternoon.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I make sure my tone says curiosity, not criticism.

  “I didn’t want it to affect your game, but they got an indictment. Rex is done for.”

  I don’t know what to do. It’s been six months. I thought he was going to get away with it, that we’d always have this shadow looming over us. To say it’s a relief is an understatement.

  “The commissioner is confident they’ve got enough evidence to make all charges stick and ensure he goes away for a long time. That’s even more likely thanks to that boneheaded goon of his testifying Rex ordered him to kill you.”

  I bring my hand to my side where my wound has suddenly lit up.

  “The list of charges expanded considerably from kidnapping and attempted murder once they started digging,” Linnea says. “He’s finished, baby.”

  I’ll feel better about it when he’s actually behind bars, but I know this is a win, that for Linnea’s sake I need to show her what it means to me. “Honestly,” I tell her, “the guy is barely a blip of my radar these days.”

  She smiles knowingly and kisses me once more before I skate off towards the other side of the rink and make my way for the locker rooms.

  I wasn’t lying. I don’t think about Rex much, about what happened all those months ago. I’m busy doing what I love with the woman I love. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Of course, Linnea’s got her own deal going on. Whatever she decides, we’ve already agreed we’ll make it work.

  It’s funny. I can’t picture Linnea as a housewife leafing through catalogues and catching up for coffee, settling for anything other than playing ball and being the very best she can be. We share that competitive spirit, and it’s not just in sports, but life, too. We want the best for ourselves and our family, whatever form that may take.

  I think about the first time we met at that ABC party, that crazy flower dress she was wearing and how surprisingly easy it came off. That forward, go-get-’em girl I met is still there, but now I’m lucky enough to call her not just my wife, but my better half.

  My lover for life.

  EPILOGUE II

  NOLAN

  SEVEN YEARS LATER

  Titus and Phoenix whistle in tandem, standing beside me with their hands on their hips.

  “Who did you say owns this again?” asks Phoenix. The two of them are wearing matching check flannel, looking like a pair of fucking lumberjacks.

  “Cayden Beckett,” Peyton replies, taking in the hunting cabin himself, though it’s more of a lodge given its size. “He was with the Patriots for a while. Asshole brothers, asshole father—we shared a lot in common.”

  “Including your love of cock?” adds Titus, pretending to deep-throat said appendage. All that’s happened and these two still act like they’re horny teenagers. I guess some things don’t change.

  “You want me to tell them about the strap-on you like?”

  I hadn’t noticed Maya creeping up on him. She wraps her arms around his neck, can’t get a good grip considering she’s heavily pregnant with number three.

  Titus flails. “Hey, I don’t know what she’s talking about. She’s crazy.”

  All of the King kids are active, but Amelie, Titus and Maya’s first, is particularly energetic. She’s been here less than five minutes and already she’s halfway up a tree. She calls down. “Dad, look at me!”

  Titus sighs, smiling and giving her the thumbs up. “That’s great, kiddo. Try not to fall and break your other leg, hey?”

  He’s referring to the time last year Amelie decided she could hit the skate ramp like the rest of the boys…without having ever set foot on an actual skateboard. She’s fearless, that kid, and I have no doubt her sister April, now four, will be just the same. In fact, she’s headed right for the same tree determined to be just like her big sister.

  As for number three, I warned Titus there’s a fifty-fifty chance it could be another girl. He didn’t seem to mind. I think he’s come around to his feminine side living with so much estrogen. He even took up baking recently after Phoenix bet him a grand he couldn’t make a cake that was actually edible.

  I still remember Titus and Maya in Vegas, the crazy elopement. I remember flying out to see his first game at Fenway Park, the call of astonishment I received when he realized their first-born was going to have curly hair. Boston suits those two. It suited Linnea and me, too, for a while.

  Maya’s pretty busy with the girls these days, but she somehow managed to complete a PhD in mathematics from Harvard, told me once she didn’t want Titus stealing all the limelight. She’s been working at the university for the last couple of years on and off, runs a side gig helping tutor kids who can’t afford it. I don’t know how she does it, to be honest…being with Titus, that is. We still don’t miss a single opportunity to blame his head injury on any and everything.

  Maya pushes herself away and swats Titus on the butt. “Come on. I need your help getting all the crap you brought inside. Anyone would think you are the female in this relationship.”

  “I’ll help,” says Phoenix, falling into step.

  “Thank you, Phoenix,” says Maya, looking between the twins. “At least one of you still acts like a gentleman.”

  “Uncle Peyton, Uncle Nol! Look at me!”

  Amelie is still at it, now at the top of the tree. If this little family getaway doesn’t end in a hospital trip it’s going to be a goddamn miracle.

  “So, what do you think?” asks Peyton beside me, shifting to look from the house to the lake.

  “Looks like we should watch out for Jason Vorhees,” I joke.

  Peyton checks his watch. “And holy shit, it is Friday the thirteenth.”

  “Don’t worry,” I tell him, “I left the hockey mask at home.”

  He shoves me in the side. “I don’t want to know about your kinky sex habits, bro.”

  I laugh. “Says the guy who wrote the book on sexual perversion.”

  He shrugs. “Hey, I’m a family man now. It’s missionary and lights out before nine.”

  “How the mighty have fallen,” I muse, looking at his hand adorned with, what is it now? Three Superbowl rings? I’m losing count. “You’re going to run out of fingers soon,” I tell him.

  He holds his hand up. “More than the old man.”

  Dad’s sporting luck hasn’t been doing much for him this last decade. He eventually gave it up and settled down with Alissa in Maine of all places, jets around visiting u
s all and the grandkids. He’s so soft and smitten these days it’s hard to believe what he once was.

  Alissa—well, she’s the wildcard. She managed to convince Dad to let her start her own event-planning business. It took off…in a big way. She organizes events nationwide, based out of New York but seems to do okay steering the ship from Maine. She’s also a kick-ass nanny, happy to lend a hand whenever one of us is looking to jump out a window because Junior wants to watch the Wiggles for the ten-thousandth time.

  “It’s going to be my last season,” confesses Peyton, looking to the lake.

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “I said it was Friday the thirteenth, not April Fools.”

  He looks to me. “I’m serious. I’m already talked to Coach. Next year I’m out. That knee thing that flared up a few years ago, it’s back. Doc says I can’t keep playing, and Erin…I’m sure you get the picture.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m thinking about coaching, reckon it’s time I kicked up my heels.”

  “You’ve clearly forgotten Crestfall if you think coaches have time for rest and relaxation.”

  “I know, but I figure if Dad can do it, hell, so can I. I can’t do any worse than him, right?”

  He’s not wrong there. “No more Big Fucking Workouts then?”

  “Only with my wife.” He winks, and I really wish I had a sickness bag on me. I try to change the subject. “What does Erin think about it all? You guys going to stay in New York?”

  Another shrug. “We don’t know. Since Erin moved into the whole investigative journalism side of things she’s been pretty flat out, but she could work from anywhere. The New Yorker’s been good to her like that, being flexible and the like, especially with the charity stuff, and Evie’s about to start school, so there’s that to consider.”

  Evie—it’s hard to think of a King as an only child, but Peyton and Erin have only ever had the one. I don’t like to pry, but Erin let on one day it a biological issue that prevented them having a second.

  They sure got it right the first time, though. Evie has always been a stunner, that perfect baby everyone wanted to stop and fawn over. Even as a toddler Erin was constantly getting harassed by these kid model agencies, but she never went with any of it. She didn’t want that for her daughter.