The Penalty Box

by Teagan Kade

  I take the hand off the lockers and hold a breast high. It’s plump in my hand, my nipple swollen and dusty pink against the center of my palm. Heat and energy pulse between my erogenous zones, Nolan concentrating on my clit but the thong becoming a distraction as he tries to hold the crotch away.

  “Take it off,” I tell him, speaking in broken syllables, wanting nothing more to be completely bare before him, at his mercy.

  He tries to tug the thong away, but my leg is still lifted. It’s not working.

  He pulls but still it won’t go, stretched out tight around my thigh. He gives up and reaches up with two hands, a single grunt as the crotch is torn in two. He tosses what’s left to the floor and resumes lapping at my clit.

  “God,” I breathe out, emptying my lungs but feeling my chest fill with something new, something terrifying.

  He’s getting greedy below, sucking at my lips, sliding two fingers inside me and shoveling them into my core with little decorum until I’m a wet, molten mess at his lips.

  I grunt and writhe against him, crotch colliding with his chin as my breathing becomes labored and irregular. He’s created a tension inside me that’s becoming tighter and tighter with every brush of his tongue, a deep and connected urgency that’s close to cataclysmic.

  I don’t care if I’m hurting him, could well snap his neck I’m bucking so hard, but the need is too much.

  I almost claw his head off when he pulls away, rising and smiling at me.

  I give an agonized gasp. “What are you doing?”

  He wipes his mouth, pausing to suck one of the fingers that was inside me clean. He takes hold of his cock and places it against me, a new flurry of fireworks following that tells me yes, I want his cock, and I want it now.

  He takes my leg under the thigh, holding me there while he slowly eases upwards into my depths.

  I clamp around him and cry out, the early signs of orgasm already present at the comforting fill of his hardness.

  Hand on my side, the other holding my leg high, he angles upwards, driving deeper and forcing a hiss from my lips.

  My other senses start to fill in—the stale, tepid air of the locker room enveloping us, the micro-burn of his body against mine, a pipe hammering somewhere overhead, the buzz of the fluorescents… It all meets there in my mind as he takes me.

  I claw at his back, holding him tightly in place while he fills me over and over with the full length of his cock. He plunges deep inside me, burying himself there until he’s forced to pull in air through is teeth, struggling against my shoulder.

  I run my hand up his back, between the two angled blades there, and can’t do anything more but remain still, sandwiched between the steel of the locker and the slab of his body, my buttocks squeezing together every time he enters me.

  He’s close. I know because I feel the transfer of tension, the way the corded muscle against me swells and tightens.

  He reaches down and takes my other leg, lifting me completely off the ground and walking us slowly towards the showers.

  I kiss him, do not care about the aftertaste of my sex on his lips, do not care that my full weight is against him. He carries me with ease, my ankles clapping together at the small of his back, my arms locked around his neck.

  He slams me against the cool tiles of the shower wall and slaps at the tap, icy water blasting over us.

  My mouth goes wide. My body constricts, squeezing his cock as though a vice. He grunts and resumes fucking me, my back sliding up and down the tiles, his hands moving to my ass, cradling me there while the water turns from cold to warm and then blissfully hot.

  My senses were already in overload, but this takes things to a whole new level.

  I look into his eyes and see far more than a sexual partner but a true soulmate, that one person who comes along once in a lifetime and knows you better than you know yourself, who in this moment isn’t just making love to you, but becoming part of you.

  I mew and grunt, unable to speak as he hammers against me.

  I let my head fall against his shoulder and squeeze tight against him. The familiar pang of pre-climax starts to flood my system.

  It takes everything I have to tell him I’m close, to put those simple words together at his ear.

  He hears them, responds by driving me higher against the wall.

  My head drops back, water streaming over my face. My hair becomes a slick eel against my back as he pulls me away from the tiles, holding me there in mid-air. A low dirge starts from his lips, a battle-cry.

  I hold on, answer by gyrating against him, up and down, again and again as he takes me.

  This climax is different. There’s implosion and explosion, something forced from me but also dragged inwards. My mouth stretches so wide my jaw hurts, fingers so deep in his skin they might well draw blood. I kick out with my legs but still he holds me firm, fucking me through convulsion after convulsion, steadfast and resolute.

  Everything is engorged and swollen, beating in time with the pulsing rush of orgasm.

  Dimly, I notice Nolan reach to turn off the shower, helping me back to my feet even though the ground itself feels non-existent.

  I didn’t feel him cum, don’t know why he’s stopping but it’s lost.

  I’m still stuck in this limbo of ecstasy when I see the look of horror on his face.

  “Did you hear that?” he asks, looking back to the locker room. “Someone’s coming.”

  I’m dizzy, the shock of his words forcing me to jerk forwards. It’s like I can’t control my own body.

  I hear it now too, voices, growing louder.

  He takes my arm and tugs me away from the showers, pressing me against the wall that divides the locker room from the shower room. He looks around the corner and back, holding me there. “Stay as quiet as you can.”

  “Collins, you fucker!” comes a male voice. “What happened to you last night? Don’t we think we didn’t see you eyeing that new girl, what was her name?”

  “Cleo, Connie? Fuck if I know,” Collins responds. “Had a pussy like a pan pipe, though.”

  There’s laughter, others entering the locker room.

  Holy shit, it’s the reserves, I realize.

  Either they’re early or we were going longer than I thought. And now we’re trapped. If any one of them comes into this area they’ll see us. All that separates us from them is this wall.

  Nolan’s trying to control his breathing, watching and holding me against the wall at the same time.

  “What do we do?” I whisper, still coming down from my orgasm, still tingling from head to toe.

  “Shh,” he whispers back, placing a finger to my lips.

  I mean, I wanted danger. I did not actually want to be caught.

  “The fuck?” says a voice.

  “One of you leave your thong behind?”

  Oh. My. God.

  My thong, or what was left of it.

  Nolan looks at me and I know panic when I see it.

  “Gregory, this yours?” someone asks.

  There’s laughter, squealing. They’re throwing it at each other.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” says someone else. “Get that thing away from me.”

  Another voice. “Seriously, what’s that doing in here?”

  “Eh, probably just some freshman fuckers breaking in, getting it on.”

  “Or Coach?”

  There’s serious laughter at that.

  “You smell that?”

  I tighten.

  They quiet down.

  “Yep, smells like fucking.”

  More laughter.

  I look down and notice Nolan’s still hard. Poor baby. He never got to come.

  An idea strikes me so naughty and downright diabolical I can’t believe I’m thinking it let alone actually getting down to my knees.

  He gives me a look of shock, mouthing ‘What are you doing?’ but he stops when I take him between my lips and drop my head over his cock.

  I taste myself on him, bu
t it only turns me on more. The locker room banter continues in the other room while I bring up a hand, wrapping it around the full girth of his shaft and pumping it in time with the motion of my mouth.

  Lightly, he holds me in position, hips swinging to add more of his length between my lips. I open my throat and take him deeper, right until my lips butt up against my fingers, ringed around the root of him.

  That’s enough. He stiffens and I draw my mouth away, jerking him off against my breasts.

  He gives a stunted grunt and shoots. I direct his cock to each breast, allow them equal coverage while he jerks and convulses. His teeth are tight together, face red and pained, the sense of relief that follows almost amusing.

  His hips jerk once more and the last of him spills down the center of my chest.

  I keep pumping him lightly, feel him slowly soften in my hand. With the other I spread his release over myself, biting my lip and watching him all the while, knowing he may forget many things, but never this.

  It takes another five tense minutes for the reserves to gear up and head out.

  Nolan checks around the corner. “We’re good.”

  I stand and kiss him, let his cock drop from my hand. “Are we?”

  I’ve never showered or dressed so fast in my life, the two of us acting like a couple of ninjas, crawling our way out of the locker room and then sprinting for the front doors hand in hand, those poor reserves none the wiser as we head off laughing.

  *

  I’m still thinking about it the following day.

  Studying isn’t my strong suit, but I’m more distracted than usual in class. I’d like to say it was the impending doom that is my father, but my thoughts center far more on Nolan. Finally, he’s given in…and what a release it was. All that stringing me along, all that anticipation heightened things to a level hitherto unknown.

  Maybe he was right. I did enjoy getting to know him, even without the sex. It probably made the sex better.

  The urge to have him again blocks out all else, everything just static while I consider the many ways I’ll please him tonight.

  I make my way across campus and start across the field heading to the basketball arena.

  I’m about to make my way across the road when a black SUV pulls up to the curb, blocking my path.

  The doors pop open and three suited individuals emerge. I’m familiar with the song and dance by now. It’s obvious what this is, but I manage to suppress my panic and stand firm. After all, there are people around—in the distance, yes, but people all the same.

  One goon moves behind me, checking left and right, the two others before me, one older and one younger.

  The older one stands aside, holding the back door of the SUV open. “You need to come with us.”

  I unsling my bag off my shoulder and let it drop to the ground dramatically. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  There’s a shared look between the three of them. I don’t know if they expected resistance. What am I thinking? They probably get off it.

  “You need to come with us,” the older one repeats, slower.

  “I’m not fucking deaf,” I tell him. “And I’m not coming with you, so move that gangster mobile you’ve got there and I’ll be on my way.”

  The goon’s jaw sets. He’s ready to step this up, but the younger one comes forward instead with his hands open. “Look,” he begins, taking off his sunglasses. “We’re here to make sure you get to a meeting with a wedding planner. That’s all. We don’t want trouble.”

  So, the younger one seems to have a shred of compassion. Pretty sure he didn’t get that from cozying up to my father.

  I sigh and address him as I addressed his friend. “I’m not going. If you try to force me, I will scream.” I point to people in the distance. “There are witnesses,” I say, pointing now to trees. “And cameras.”

  I don’t think there are cameras here at all, but they don’t need to know that. Like I said, not the sharpest tools in the shed.

  “So, move along and let me get on with my life. Oh,” I add. “And tell my father to go to hell.”

  They look to one another, the older one itching to start something, but I know I’ve got the upper hand here. The older one smiles and tilts his head, all of them piling back into the SUV, which takes off far faster than necessary.

  I’m shaking when I pick up my bag, the nerves I’ve been holding off turning to piano wire inside me. Even my gut hurts.

  I’ve got practice but I’m not hanging around here a second longer than I have to, especially not after nightfall. I run, don’t walk, all the way back to the King residence.

  *

  I’m upset by my father’s attitude, at his presumption I’d just go along with his stupid fucking plans. Who does he think is?

  For a split second I try to put myself in his shoes, understand his position, but I can’t.

  Because you’re not a monster, my head tells me.

  Nolan hasn’t come home yet.

  I’m on autopilot, sitting on the sofa in his room downing Reese’s Pieces like they’re Tic-Tacs, watching Glow (again), wishing I looked that good in spandex.

  I don’t think Nolan minds what you’re wearing, even if it’s nothing at all.

  This is why I answer my cell automatically when it starts to ring, thinking this is the perfect opportunity for a bit of phone sex.

  “Cock,” I state aloud, trying to get a feel for the word before I put into practice.

  I answer. “You rang, big boy?”

  “Linnea, it’s Coach Hamilton.”

  Oh, shit.

  “Ah, um, sorry, Coach.”

  “You weren’t at practice today,” she states.

  I should have expected a follow-up call like this. Coach is infamous her hardline on attendance. “Yes, sorry. I wasn’t feeling so great.”

  “Cramps? IBS? Impaled by a fence post? Because you know I couldn’t care less for these kind of excuses, Marsden.”

  It’s true. She once rang Carrie, who was in the hospital following a burst appendix, blasting her for not showing.

  “You sound fine.”

  I could be sitting here on fire, but sure. “Like I said, I’m sorry, Coach.”

  “Sorry doesn’t improve your jump shot, does it? The scouts are on the hunt and you need to be on your A-game here, Marsden. I know you’re a senior and those greener pastures a-yonder are calling, but while you are at Crestfall, you are mine. Don’t screw this up, capisce?”

  “Understood. I’ll be there tomorrow with bells on.”

  “Forget the bells. Just bring your game.”

  She hangs up.

  I hold the phone away from myself, stare at it in a sort of suspended disbelief.

  And they say I’m a hardass.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  NOLAN

  I arrive home late afternoon, stepping into my room to find Linnea already there. I thought she had practice.

  She’s dressed in a Lakers tee and blue leggings, making that kind of casual attire somehow look incredible.

  Instead, for some stupid reason, I say, “Not what I was expecting.”

  “What? You expected to find me in my birthday suit with a bottle of chocolate sauce and a blindfold?”

  I stand in the middle of the room and place my hands on my hips, laughing. “You wouldn’t believe the kind of kinky options those two items are conjuring up right now.”

  She walks past me and does a perfect forward roll onto the sofa, coming up into a sitting position and reaching for a giant bowl of Reese’s Pieces. Given the packets strewn across the table, she might want to look into shares. Two girls in bright spandex are wrestling on the TV. “You want to know what I want to conjure up?” she tells me. “A hole.”

  I take a seat beside her, place my hand on her knee. “Rough day?”

  I’m approaching with caution here. Clearly, she’s not in the best mood. I don’t think it was anything I did, which leaves, what? Something at the Academy? Fight wi
th a friend?

  She answers my own question. “My father’s goons showed up again today.”

  The playful mood I was in darkens. “What?”

  She pops a Reese’s Piece into her mouth, talks while chewing. “Blocked me in, told me they were taking me to see a wedding planner, believe it or not.”

  I can’t believe it. I fucking knew that asshole wasn’t done with this shit. Worse, I realize I shouldn’t be letting Linnea get around campus alone.

  I stand, pacing in front of the sofa. “Wait, so you’re saying they tried to take you from the street against your will?”

  “That’s right, but they couldn’t. Too public. I told them to fuck off and they did, reluctantly.”

  I’m seething, holding a fist in hand and squeezing my knuckles. I’d love to get Rex on the ice—just him and me. I’d check that fucker so hard he’d wind up in the back row. But Linnea’s my concern right now. She has to be. “Are you all right?”

  She lifts her shoulders, appears to sink deeper into the sofa. “A bit shaken, but I don’t scare easily. There’s no need to worry. I did skip practice, though, which didn’t go down so well with Coach.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  She shrugs again. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to bother you with all this, drag you into my mess. You’ve done enough.”

  “Our mess,” I correct.

  “I’m sure you’ve got plenty to worry about yourself, what with your brothers, hockey…”

  I get down onto my knees in front of her and cup her face. “My brothers can handle themselves. You are my concern, Linnea.”

  She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. That’s when it occurs to me, the solution to everything. I tease and prod at the idea, but it’s only for a moment. It feels right, deep inside me, and that’s when I know I have to act.

  I let my hands drop to her knees. “I’ll marry you.”

  She half chokes on the Reese’s Pieces she just popped into her mouth, swallowing hard and reaching for her throat. “Say what now?”

  “It’s the solution to everything. I’ll marry you and that will be the end of your father’s machinations.”

  Machinations? Where the hell did that come from? I ponder.

  “You’re crazy.”

  I shake my head. “No, not crazy at all. I don’t think I’ve been as sure as anything in my life. Well, maybe Tampa Bay taking the Stanley Cup, but I’m telling you, I’m serious.”