Hard Edge: A Hockey Romance (Stone Creek University Book 1)

by Lainey Davis

  Tim seems star struck to have met the starting line for the Otters. "God, those guys must get so much action." He looks around the party, where Linda is just one of many girls wearing skimpy Catholic schoolgirl costumes. "I bet they're here looking for naughty schoolgirls to spank." He winks at Linda and pulls her back toward him for a dance.

  I feel exhausted after that testosterone explosion and I really don't want to stand around dancing anymore. Jeremy pulls me over to a couch and we sit down, talking for a bit about our plans for after graduation. Jeremy is also looking to go to grad school. He has his GRE exams in a few days and we agree to help each other study. Jeremy drains his cup and asks if I want to go with him to get another beer, but I shake my head.

  "I'm going to find a bathroom," I say. He heads off toward the kitchen while I make my way down the crowded hall. It's dark in the hallway, and there's a line. I lean one shoulder against the wall and pull out my phone while I wait, when I feel someone press up against my back.

  Warm breath crashes into my neck as I hear Neal say, "Who is the asshole?"

  I look up over my shoulder at him, not sure what I'm feeling. "Jeremy? He's my neighbor. He's nice."

  Neal pulls me against his body. I get goosebumps on my skin as I feel his firm flesh behind me. "Did you fuck him?" Neal's tone is cold and harsh. His hands around my waist feel urgent, like he needs to claim me physically.

  "What's it to you if I did," I say, not turning to him, but he spins me around and looks into my eyes. "Neal, you and I can't be together."

  It's like he hasn't heard me. I feel like I'm going to melt under the heat of his stare. His hands grip me harder. "Did you sleep with him, Dahlia?"

  I don't answer and I'm shocked when Neal crushes his lips into mine. His kiss feels like a brand, like he is marking me in the hallways, and I'm startled to realize how much I like it. His hands are searching my body now, rubbing my ass. His fingers are so long he can cup my ass in his hand and reach between my legs as he slides his tongue in and out of my mouth.

  I pull my mouth away from his, frustrated. "Why do you care about Jeremy? Since when do you stick around to screw the same girl twice."

  He doesn't say anything for a minute, just brushes my hair behind my ears. He keeps his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. People start to walk around us in line for the bathroom. He says, "I don't, Dahlia. I don't ever go after anyone like this." I feel myself blush when he reaches up to massage my nipple with his thumb. The tender skin crimps at his touch and he says, "You make me crazy, Dahlia. There's something about you."

  He takes my hand in his much larger one. I feel like the entire room vibrates. My skin is on fire at his touch and my heart beats faster. His eyes are dark and intense, pleading with me, as he asks, "Did you have sex with that guy?"

  "There's only you, Neal. But I can't do this with you." I place my hands on his chest and he leans his head against mine. I feel his breath ragged and fast.

  One of his hands is still between my legs and his fingers grip me, pulling me against him. I like how Neal is responding right now to the idea of me here with another guy, but it feels so wrong. If we are caught and my boss catches wind of this, my entire future is derailed. I am aware of this, painfully, but the more Neal strokes me, the less I remember why it's so important for me to get away from him right now. He mashes his mouth back into mine and puts a hand on either side of my face.

  The other people in the hallway back away from us now, and I break the kiss. I meet Neal's eyes again and he takes my hand. "We're getting out of here," he says. There is no question. I follow him. He starts to pull me out a side door.

  "Wait! I have to tell Linda that I'm safe!" But Neal keeps walking. He takes me across the grass, his long stride three times the length of mine. I'm practically sprinting to keep up with him and getting breathless. "Neal!" I shout and he looks back, realizing how fast he's walking. "What are we doing? If this is just because you're feeling horny, I mean, it's probably better if you just grab a sexy nurse from frat row--"

  He yanks me out of the street against a streetlight and kisses me again. "I already told you, Dahlia. I want you. Everything about you drives me wild."

  I am vaguely aware of other students walking in the streets around us, of a few drunken whistles and applause as he kisses me, and then I remember again that I can't be caught screwing around with this particular hockey player. I start looking over my shoulders to make sure nobody I know sees me, and Neal tugs on my arm again.

  We walk onto campus toward the athlete dorms. I've never been in these suites before, but I've heard stories. While the rest of us cram into tiny rooms with paperboard furniture, the athletes get leather couches and queen sized beds. They have functional kitchens they never use, since they have team meals for dinner and everything else is prescribed for them by the team nutritionists.

  When Neal slides his ID card into the door I feel like I'm walking into a luxury apartment, not someone's dorm room. As I stand in the living room, waiting for him to flick on the lights, he comes up behind me and reaches around my body to feel my breasts. "My roommates are all still at that party," he whispers as he starts unfastening my jeans. "I'm going to bend you over the couch and fuck you here in the living room."

  I can only moan in response as he yanks down my panties and jeans together. I kick off both and fling my ballet flats across the room. I can hear Neal undressing behind me and I move to pull off my shirt, but he stops me. "No," he says, sucking on my neck as his thumbs massage my nipples. "Leave it on. I fucking love how you look in that shirt."

  I am deeply aroused by this point, leaning back against his body while his hands explore. The long fingers of one hand stroke at my pussy while his other hand teases my nipples. God, he does amazing things to my nipples. I never really paid much attention to them before Neal. His tongue licks me from my ear, down my jaw line, around to the delicate skin of my throat, where I feel his teeth nip. My knees start to buckle as I softly moan and Neal pushes me forward until I'm leaning against the back of the couch.

  I turn over my shoulder to look at him and reach up to touch the side of his face as he sucks on my neck. That hair I love so much is soft against my skin and I savor the feel of it under my hands, but Neal isn't making time for tender caresses. I hear the crinkle of the condom wrapper and feel him behind me, his massive cock sliding along the crack of my ass as he reaches between my legs to spread me wide enough for him to enter me.

  Even though he's been inside me before, I suck in my breath at the shock of him filling me. Last time, he spent a long time preparing my body for his invasion. This feels rough and thrilling. His dick spreads me wide and I reach forward, grabbing at the couch for support. "You're mine, Dahlia," he huffs as he begins to thrust in and out of my body. "Mine." I can hear the slap of our flesh meeting. There is something primal and urgent in the way Neal is fucking me right now, and I am swept away by the feeling of my ass shaking as Neal crashes into it again and again. His arms are around my chest, crushing my breasts against my body as he leans over me and stretches my channel.

  "Say you're mine," he huffs into my ear as he pounds into me. "Whose pussy is this?"

  I am not sure how to feel about this possessive streak coming through from Neal. Is it just the heat of the moment? It's sexy. I want to hear him say it again, want to feel like I belong to him in this way, even if this is just for tonight. I look up at him and his eyes are intense. I smile even as he's jolting my body. "I'm yours, Neal. You're the only one who can fuck me."

  I know that if he touches me, I'll cum instantly. His dick is so big and from this angle I can feel it rasping along my G-spot with every thrust. I'm so desperate for contact with my aching clit, but I can't move my arms to touch myself, needing them to support me from under the weight of Neal crashing into my body. He moves one hand to tug on my long braid, turning my mouth toward his and he invades my mouth with his tongue as he takes my pussy in his other hand.

  I am not conscious o
f making the sounds I can hear coming out of my body, but I know I am bucking wildly beneath him as I cum on his hand. His mouth swallows my screams and I feel him thicken as he groans. We cum together, and Neal continues to move inside me, more slowly now, as he pours into the condom and I whimper, overwhelmed by the sensations racking through my body. He shudders against my back and is still at long last. My body is coated in sweat by now, and my skin sticks to the leather material of the couch as I try to stand.

  After a few minutes, Neal slides out of me and walks to throw out the condom in the kitchen trash. My body feels suddenly empty and I shiver at the loss of his heat against my back. This is the first time I've been able to really appreciate him standing naked, though, so I hug myself and take a long look. I lean against the couch enjoying the sight of his body as he moves around the kitchen getting water. He looks at me over his water glass and my mouth drops open as I see his cock getting hard again immediately.

  Neal walks back over to me and offers me the water glass. I take a few swigs before he dips his head to my chest, sucking my nipples through the material of my bra and t-shirt. "Pumpkin pie," he says into my shirt, "never tasted so good."

  I laugh and Neal takes the water glass from me. He sets it on the counter and picks me up, carrying me over the threshold into his room. "Shouldn't we get our stuff from the floor?" I manage to ask before he plunks me onto his bed. "Your roommates could come home."

  Neal stands above me stroking his length. I am so turned on watching him touch himself, and I like how he makes eye contact with me as he does. I realize now that the other guys I've been with were so lackluster for me because they failed to take charge. They were all timid and awkward, where Neal just moves and my body responds to him immediately. I don't know if it's that Neal is just confident in his abilities or if it's that he spends so much time playing an aggressive contact sport, but when it comes to sex, there is no doubt that he is in control. Lucky for me, his primary goal seems to be making me cum as many times as possible. He closes his bedroom door and presses the lock. "I want you to put me in your mouth, Dahlia," he says.

  I look up at him. I've never given a blowjob before, and never really wanted to before now. Suddenly the thought of licking and sucking that beautiful cock, source of so much pleasure, sounds delectable to me. I begin to understand why Neal gets so turned on by going down on me. He stands next to the bed still stroking his shaft, and I nod, licking my lips. Neal climbs onto the bed and lies back against the pillows so I can crawl between his legs.

  He reaches down to cup my breasts as I cradle his cock in my hand. I gaze at it and see it twitch in my palm, and I dip my head to lick the smooth skin. He tastes salty, and I can smell the sweat of his exertion from the living room. The musky combination turns me on and as I circle the tip with my tongue, a drop of precum slides from the slit of Neal's cock.

  "Fuck, Dahlia. That's so perfect," he says. I love knowing that I can make him feel good, too. I think of all the things he did with his tongue on my body as I explore him. His eyes are closed as I take the head into my mouth. I slide my lips down the shaft and Neal's hands drop from my breasts to the bed. I see him fisting the bed sheets as I slide him further and further into my mouth. I try to smile, knowing I'm giving him so much pleasure, but it's hard to do that with my mouth so filled and stretched.

  I try opening my throat, eager to take in as much of him as I can. I have one hand curled around the root of his cock and I slowly ease him my mouth in until I feel the tip hit the back of my throat. I gag briefly, but relax as I hear Neal begin to moan. He raises his hips from the bed and I move my other hand to feel the divot at the top of his thigh, where firm leg curves into taut buttock.

  I begin to move my head slowly up and down his shaft and Neal moves one hand gently into my hair. His fingers stroke my long braid as it falls over my shoulder. I start to wonder what it would feel like to have him cum in my mouth, what it would taste like to suck down every hot drop of him. I start to squeeze harder at the base as I move my head, my tongue flat against the underside of his cock and flicking the rim with each upward motion of my mouth.

  Neal begins breathing faster and says, "Shit. Dahlia. I'm going to lose it. Your mouth is so incredible." I love knowing that I have the power to make him cum, and I can see why he took so much pride in knowing how hard he made me cum. It feels amazing to get someone else to this point of release. I keep going, bringing my free hand to cup his balls. I look at Neal's strained face and somehow know that if I squeeze, he will orgasm. When I do, I feel him spurting jets of milky white cum into my mouth. I savor the look of him, his face frozen in ecstasy and his beautiful body tensed beneath mine. I lick him clean and he opens his eyes to stare at me. "How are you this incredible," he asks.

  Neal pulls me up into his arms and cradles me against his chest, kissing my head until we both fall asleep tangled in his sheets. A few hours later, I wake up to Neal's face between my legs, returning the favor. We have sex again in his bed, slow and gentle this time, and when we finish I'm too tired to walk home.

  Chapter Seven

  I wake up in the morning just as dawn breaks. The excitement and passion of last night is replaced by a sinking dread. I sit up and rake my hands through my hair, squeezing at my temples. "Shit." I can't help but curse.

  Neal opens one eye and looks up at me. He grunts and tries to pull me back down. "Neal, wake up. You have to go in the living room and get my clothes for me." I try shaking his arm, but he's dead to the world again.

  "Just throw on something of mine." He rolls over and puts the pillow over his head, then sits up and stares at me. "Wait. Are you leaving? I don't have to be on the ice until ten today. It's fucking Saturday, Dahlia. Get your ass back in bed."

  "I have to get out of here before your roommates wake up and find me," I say, rifling through his drawers for something that won't fall down off my body. I land on a pair of gym shorts that don't look too enormous. When I put them on, they balloon out from my hips, but I pull the drawstring tighter and they stay up. They look ridiculous, especially with the tight t-shirt I'm still wearing. I bring a hand to my breast and remember how it felt, damp from Neal's mouth as he sucked on me the night before.

  But then my busy mind takes over and I ramble. "Not to mention, Linda is probably worried sick about me. And she's going to be mad as a hornet when she finds out I went home with you. Shit, Neal. This is really serious. What are we even doing?" I'm babbling now, almost crying, and he walks across the room to take my arm and sit me on the edge of the bed.

  Neal pulls me against him in a hug and kisses the top of my head affectionately. "Listen," he says, rubbing my arm. "Nobody in this apartment is going to say one word to anyone about anyone I am sleeping with. I know shit about these guys, too. Hell, Smith is banging one of his professors, Dahlia."

  My mouth drops open and I stare at him in shock. What kind of professor would take that kind of risk with a student? Then I think about how easy it was for me to cross the line and I just drop my head onto his shoulder and say nothing. He talks softly to me. "Besides, if you wait a few hours to go home and someone sees you coming from the athlete dorms, anyone who knows you will assume you were just here for academic stuff. Who would ever suspect Dahlia Wardzinksi, math nerd, was here sucking cock?"

  I punch him in the chest, pretending to be insulted, but I know he's right. That's what makes all of this so confusing for me. I am a math nerd. I carefully calculate every aspect of my life, from my study schedule to my finances. I never, ever do things like this. Linda made fun of me the last time I slept with a guy because I put it on my planner a few weeks in advance: Find guy for sex to relieve mid-term stress.

  "Your coach is still a risk, though," I say, putting my hand on his thigh and sighing again because I love the feel of his leg muscles under my skin. "He might hear one of them talk about stepping on my jeans on the floor in your living room." I pull away again and look around to see if maybe my underwear made it into the room at l
east. I'm horrified at the thought of his roommates tripping on my panties.

  I am desperate to use the bathroom and scared to walk into the hall alone. Neal sighs and throws on a pair of boxer briefs, following me into the hall as I walk to the bathroom. When I come out he's standing in the kitchen making an entire dozen scrambled eggs and I see practically half a loaf of bread in the toaster oven.

  He smiles and slides me a plate of food and just as I sit at the counter to eat, one of the bedroom doors opens. I freeze over my food and my skin flushes as red as my shirt when I see Tyler walking down the hall, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Sweeney, you making breakfast? I thought I smelled toast." He notices me then and stops for a minute. He raises his eyebrows, looks from Neal back to me, and says, "Pass the ketchup, Dahlia."

  Then it's like nothing unusual has happened at all. As if it were perfectly normal for me to be sitting wearing Neal's shorts at Tyler's kitchen counter eating eggs while my panties and jeans are scattered all over the floor. Neal starts telling Tyler and me how disgusting we both are for befouling our eggs with ketchup, and Tyler calls him a stuck-up, New England prick. I can't help but laugh at the easy connection they share.