“Yeah, Rocco's great. Sometimes though, he can be smothering. Way too intense, you know? I guess I just wish he would give me the space to grow up and make my own mistakes.”
Piper smirked. “Mistakes like Sebastien St. Clair?”
I winked. “Yeah. Mistakes like him. Totally worth it.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “I know exactly what you mean.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Totally. Worth. It.”
Seb
Try as he might to ruin my day, Rocco Calloway slammed into me over and over during practice, but not even Sasquatch could wipe the smile off my face. At the time, I felt like a jackass, but sending that note to Kylie ended up being one of the best decisions I’d ever made. I’ve had sex before, lots of it, in every way imaginable. But nothing compared to the utter rapture I felt when I thrust my cock into Kylie’s tight pussy.
“Ow.” I winced as my dick throbbed inside my cup. Hard-ons and protective gear don’t mix well. The sharp pain in my groin made quick work of my swelling cock and I reached down and adjusted it.
Evvy’s skates scraped ice as he came to a stop. “Problem?” He glanced at my junk and back up, grinning like an idiot. I yanked my hand away like it was on fire.
“Fuck off.” I gave him a half-hearted shove. Bastard didn’t move an inch. Evvy chuckled and shuffled close enough that none of the guys could overhear.
“Thinking about your Hot Blonde?”
I rolled my eyes. I knew telling Evvy about meeting up with Kylie was a mistake. Not that I gave him much. Just the basics—I propositioned her, she agreed, we fucked. Nothing else. Not even her name. For whatever reason, I wanted to keep her for myself, every last detail, the way she tasted, her scent, the sounds she made as she came. They were mine. Only… they weren’t, were they? For all I knew, she was fucking someone else this very minute.
“Dude. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Evvy’s voice snapped me out of my own head. I blinked and realized not only were we alone on the ice, everyone else having disappeared down the tunnel, but my jaw was clenched and I gripped my stick so hard with both hands, I was lucky it didn’t snap in half. It took immense concentration, but I managed to relax my muscles as I shrugged off Evvy’s concern.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Riiight. Okay, Sebby. Whatever.” Ev pushed off and skated toward the tunnel.
“I told you not to call me that!” I shouted after him.
He held up a gloveless hand and flipped me the bird.
Asshole.
Coach instructed everyone to hang out after showering. He had an announcement to make. I already had a hunch as to what it might be, and if the lead cannonball in my stomach meant anything, I was right.
We gathered around our lockers, some of us sat, some didn’t. I stood in front of mine, shoulder to shoulder with Ev. My job was awesome. I was a lucky bastard to get to play hockey for a living and I knew it, except for when shit like this went down.
“Shut the fuck up.” The room fell silent at Coach’s gruff bark. Frank Vernon commanded a room like no other. He was hands down the best coach I’d ever played for, even if he could be a total prick at times. His sharp gaze wandered, making eye contact with each of his men. “Management gave me the date for the annual team dinner.” A chorus of groans and grumbles erupted. “I said, shut up!” Hands on hips, Coach shot everyone his death glare, perfected by years of dealing with young, stubborn hockey players. “I don’t like it any more than you, but they’re the ones that pay us and we hafta do what they say. Period.” One of the veteran players mumbled under his breath. Coach’s head whipped around and he literally snarled. “Franzie, got somethin’ to say?”
Franzie shook his head, eyes wide. “No sir, Coach.”
I hid a smirk behind my hand. Amazing. Coach V. could even make a bad ass future Hall of Famer like Dominic Francola tremble in his skates. While Coach gave out the details, my mind drifted back to Kylie. For the millionth time since that night, I wondered what would have happened if she stayed? Part of me wished she had, just so I could wake up, roll over, and take that pussy again. The other part of me was annoyed she beat me to the punch. I was the one who left someone in bed, not the one who got left. Hell, I probably only dozed off for a couple minutes, but when I woke, Kylie was gone. There hadn’t been another home game since, so I didn’t have a chance to see her, though I was undecided on what to do when I did.
Sending another note seemed desperate, and Sebastien St. Clair wasn’t desperate. But I’d give my left nut to have her in my bed again. God, she was so damn responsive. Everything I did to her resulted in an amazing reaction, every slap, every thrust of my hips, fuck… I’d never made a woman come by playing with her tits before. That was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
Evvy’s sharp elbow dug into my side as Coach asked a question.
Oh shit.
“Sorry, Coach. I didn’t hear you.”
Coach frowned, jowls looking… well, jowl-ier than usual. “I know, St. Clair. That’s why I’m telling you to fucking pay attention!”
I straightened up and ignored Evvy’s low chuckle. Bastard. Coach continued to explain that the dinner was mandatory, blah, blah, blah, same old bullshit as last year. And the year before. And the one before that.
He was almost done when the hairs on the back of my neck pricked. My gaze slid past Coach to land on Calloway. The look he was giving me was so dark, so menacing, so filled with loathing, I nearly flinched. Nearly. I would never give Bigfoot the satisfaction of thinking he got under my skin.
I glared back wondering what the fuck his problem was this time. I was the one who was black and blue from getting bashed into the boards over and over during practice. In fact, I was so caught up in everything Kylie, I didn’t even bother to retaliate against the jerk. Not once.
When Coach turned his back to me, I mouthed, “Fuck you,” to Calloway. Sasquatch didn’t react, but I noticed his shoulders crank another notch higher. Dude was wound as tight as a nun’s asshole. If he got any tighter, he’d shit fucking diamonds. Before Calloway had a chance to reply, Coach clapped his hands.
“Get out of here. Check your emails for directions to the restaurant, and for fuck’s sake, look presentable.” A quick exchange of glances with Evvy and we bolted for the door. As it closed behind us, I heard Coach tack on, “I’m talking to you, Lebedev, you goddamn slob.”
Evvy and I cackled all the way to the parking lot. I might have been laughing, but inside I wondered what the hell was stuck up Calloway’s ass this time. Knowing him, I was sure I’d find out soon enough.
“Then we took the kids to the aquarium. Oh man, you should have seen them. It was so much fun to watch them press their cute little faces against the glass. I took a ton of pictures, see?”
My vision blurred around the edges as I zoned out in an attempt to protect my brain from the bombardment of three dozen identical photos of two small blonde children I couldn’t tell apart, even if someone held a gun to my head. My idiot teammate went on and on about his rug rats, eagerly flipping through his phone to show me all the adorableness. Rude as it was, I couldn’t gather enough energy to pretend to give a shit. Anyone who knew me should have a fucking clue, I’m not the type to give two shits about their kids. Or any kids. Or the aquarium for that matter.
The only thing that kept me from either dropkicking the guy’s phone or dropping to the floor and convulsing, was the Jack and Coke in my hand.
Speaking of which…
I glanced behind me and noted the previously long line at the bar had dwindled.
“I gotta grab a new drink, Hallzy.” I held up my empty glass and rattled the mostly melted ice.
“Oh sure. No problem.” Second line center Jake Hall lowered his phone. His eyes glistened with disappointment.
Too bad all I could think as I turned on my heel was, thank fuck, I’m free.
The opportunity presented itself and I booked it, unable to get away fast enough. Another clutch of p
eople I didn’t want to talk to had gathered around the bar. Thankfully, most were immersed in their own discussions. Probably about more shit I was one hundred percent certain I didn’t want to hear about. Aside from the impromptu family slide show, it was my lucky night, because I squeezed between two people unnoticed and had another Jack and Coke in my hand in less than three minutes.
Christ, my head ached. Pounded into submission by inane small talk. I despised small talk. Give me Evvy and a couple rowdy friends, a pitcher of beer, and a game on TV to argue over, and I was content. Ask me to stand in one place for more than five minutes and discuss traffic, gardening, or someone’s mother-in-law’s second bunion surgery, and I went catatonic.
I took a sip, turned, and leaned back, elbows propped on the bar. I made sure to tilt my body away from the crowd so no one would approach, but positioned myself so I could still check out the room. If I finished my drink fast enough, I could order another without having to move.
I did just that and it wasn’t long until a pleasant warmth trickled through my veins and my muscles relaxed. A half-hour later I was thoroughly buzzed. Enough to think I might actually have a sporting chance to survive the next two hours without clawing my own eyes out. I didn’t drink to excess often. Not only did it remind me of my useless parents, but it always seemed to lead to fists flying and blood spurting. A few Jack and Cokes wouldn’t get me sloshed, but damn did I feel good.
Starting that very morning, we had an unheard of six days off in a row, so naturally, management went and fucked it up by deciding it was the perfect time to hold the team’s annual dinner, or as I liked to call it, “A night of forced torture that happened to involve fancy clothing, inane chatter, and thank fuck, alcohol.” The restaurant they booked was decent, run by the owner of a local brewery, which stood next door. It was a popular place, and I’d eaten there before. A lot of my teammates and most of the higher ups brought wives or dates.
Which reminded me… I scanned the room and exhaled. No Amanda, yet. If there was anyone looking out for me, she wouldn’t show. I really didn’t want to see her. Not after the ugly way I left things a month or so ago. Plus, no way did I want my personal life anywhere near my bosses. That was why I didn’t ever bring a date to these things. I lifted my glass to my lips and snorted.
Date? I didn’t even need a reason to not bring a date. Why the fuck would I want to bring a woman? Not only did I not date, I’d have to deal with her boring chitchat. It would be my job, and mine alone, to entertain her ass and introduce her to everyone. That meant more small talk.
No fucking thanks. Even the possibility of a quickie in the restaurant crapper wasn’t temptation enough to make me endure the misery of bringing a date.
I spotted Evvy halfway across the crowded room, chewing the fat with one of our corporate managers. Per usual, Evvy’s hands gesticulated wildly as he spoke. Even though I’d much rather sulk alone at the bar, I decided that joining Evvy was my best option if I wanted to keep people from approaching me and, at the same time, remain somewhat sane.
With a heavy sigh, I pushed off the bar. As I took my first step toward Evvy, out of the corner of my eye a cascade of gold hair caught my attention. I sucked in a breath and held it.
No fucking way.
I stopped dead in my tracks, my gaze glued to a blonde woman on the far side of the room. No, not a blonde. The blonde. Kylie. Hot Blonde. The very same Hot Blonde I sent the gift to. The one I’d propositioned. The one I had a near-religious experience with. A spark zapped my momentarily still heart and I exhaled.
Kylie was at the Comets’ dinner. Stood only a few yards away. But why? Who did she come with? She wasn’t an employee. I knew that for sure. I’d asked around in what hopefully came across as a non-creepy, non-stalkery manner. In retrospect, I should have realized Kylie’s front row seat meant she knew someone in the organization. Seats that good didn’t hand themselves out.
I twisted around to check out the rest of the room, not that I’d figure out who Kylie came with that way. I didn’t see her arrive, therefore, had no way of knowing which bastard I’d have to maim in order to get her all to myself.
Again, just the thought of some slimy douchebag putting his hands on her flawless skin made my pulse thunder in my ears. The one important detail I did notice, was the lack of a ring on her finger. Any of her fingers, actually. If she came with a date, they weren’t married. That meant I could, and would, do whatever necessary to ensure the mysterious Kylie didn’t want anyone but me by the end of the evening.
I returned to my spot leaning on the bar and waited for the perfect moment to present itself. My gaze never left Kylie’s stunning face. When she excused herself from a conversation with one of the wives to slip out a side door, a door I happened to know led to a sprawling stone patio, I made my move. A few people tried to stop me, pull me into some inane conversation. Good thing I didn’t mind being rude. I refused to be deterred. I was a man on a mission and no one would get in my way, not unless they wanted a knuckle sandwich to the eye socket.
Without looking back, and disregarding a woman who muttered unflattering comments about me under her breath when I wasn’t wowed by her flirting, I pushed through the crowd and exited the same door as Kylie. Blood thrumming and stomach fluttering in anticipation, I stepped out into the crisp winter night to claim my prize.
Except… shit! I didn’t see her. To my knowledge, there was only one way in and out of the patio area, so Kylie had to be somewhere. I stalked to the far end of the patio, turned the corner, and sucked in a lungful of icy winter air. Saint cibore, from far away Kylie was gorgeous, so how did I forget how beautiful she was up close, without a half-inch of scratched plexi between us?
She was positively stunning.
Kylie stood, alone, with one hip resting against the twisted metal railing, which meant that, thanks to her amazing dress, the exposed, bare expanse of her spine faced me. My breath hitched. That fucking low-slung dress would be the death of me.
She would be the death of me if I didn’t stop obsessing.
I wondered what would it be like to have the liberty to walk over and press right up against Kylie’s body. To feel the searing heat that came off her skin. To rub my stiffening cock against that fantastic ass. An ass that looked even better with my bright red handprint across it.
I approached casually, not hiding my presence, but not announcing it either. Kylie must have been deep in thought, because she didn’t notice me until I put my hands on the railing next to her and even then, she didn’t so much as twitch until I spoke.
“Nice evening, don’t you think?”
“Oh my god!” Kylie jumped and her wine glass slipped from her hand. I winced when it shattered with a pop in the parking lot two stories below. Mouth forming a perfect ‘o’, she bent over the rail and gaped in horror. “Oh no.”
“Whoops,” I said with a grin. Kylie looked distraught, worried about breaking one little glass. I thought it was fucking adorable.
Adorable until Kylie straightened and aimed her intense stare directly at me. Merde. Her gaze was so heated, so focused, my brain stuttered and stalled. The electrical signals shorted out and the gray matter went offline, rendering it completely useless. My pulse raced and I felt the painful hammering of my heart against my ribcage. The wisecracking, smooth talking Sebastien St. Clair had up and left the building, and the inconsiderate bastard left behind a bumbling, speechless dumbass. I literally couldn’t come up with a single intelligent thing to say in the face of such beauty. I was pretty sure “ummm” or “duh” didn’t count.
Kylie’s gaze narrowed as if annoyed, or secretly wishing she could burn me to a crisp by shooting laser beams from her eyes. As she studied me, Kylie’s harsh expression softened and began to morph into something more familiar. Something I could definitely work with. I watched as the pupils in the center of familiar, rich golden-brown irises dilated. It didn’t escape my notice when Kylie snuck a quick peek at my body. Maybe refreshing her memory?
My brain rebooted and came back online as her attention returned to my face. The winter night was so quiet, I could hear the slight hitch as Kylie inhaled. I put the pieces together one by one and when I had enough in the proper place, comprehension zapped me like a Taser to the balls.
My out of control desire wasn’t one-sided. Kylie wanted me. I might be the only one with an unhealthy obsession, but the fact that she was still interested was good enough for now.
“You made me drop my drink.” The way her lip pouted out, combined with the irritation in her voice, made me want to laugh out loud. Yeah, she definitely sounded annoyed, but I didn’t miss the simmering hunger or blatant interest that betrayed her.
Pretending not to care, I shrugged, and tucked my hands in my pockets. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
“Hmph.” Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. Kylie shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Where’s your coat?”
Hell, she was practically naked, not that I was complaining, but it was cold out and the only thing she wore was a slinky, black cocktail dress. One with no back and a skirt that ended way above her knees to show off long, toned legs. Legs that had been wrapped around my waist as I pounded into her. I silently thanked whoever inspired her to wear that minuscule dress. I wasn’t knocking it, believe me. It was fucking fantastic. And as much as I hated the thought of covering her up, she shouldn’t be outside in January wearing a tiny scrap of fabric.
“I left it in the car.” Kylie ducked her head and pulled that sexy, full, lower lip between her teeth, invoking a couple of smoking hot memories. Her high cheekbones blushed a shade darker, and the beautiful rosy color spread to her ears.
Holy sexual torture.
I needed to adjust the painful semi in my slacks, but figured that would be crude. Or hey, maybe she would be impressed by the size of my package? A nice reminder of how talented I was with it. Yeah, no. Bad idea. I kept my hands off my dick and suffered in silence. I couldn’t manhandle my cock, but I could find out more about Kylie. In spite of my hatred of small talk, I dove in head first.
The Sinner (The St. Clair Brothers Book 1) Page 12