Penalty Play

by Lynda Aicher

  “Fill me,” she begged, her voice too thready to be an order.

  His rumbled growl was deep with the longing that burned in her. He kissed up her spine, his heat coming over her back as he nuzzled into her neck. He covered her, shoulders to hips, his erection riding her crease.

  “I’m going to fill you so full you won’t be able to think of anything but me.” He sucked on her neck, teeth digging in before he released the skin. “You won’t be able to forget me.” His breath was hot on her neck, her own musky scent wafting off him to catch in her nostrils. She inhaled, held it.

  “I won’t,” she mumbled, almost incoherent with the wanton desire that pounded through her sex to labor in her chest. She doubted she’d ever forget him. Didn’t want to forget him.

  He lurched up, and she thrust back, smacking into him before he gripped her hips.

  “Wait.” His command was firm, like his hold, and she stilled. Listened. To the ripping of the condom wrapper, the click of a cap and subsequent squelch of the lubricant.

  The cool liquid hit her anus in a sharp contrast that yanked a hiss through her teeth. She jerked away, but he followed, circling the bud before pressing in. Everything went warm then, the slow in and out of his finger scattering her thoughts.

  Fear had no place here. She trusted him to take care of her. To see to her pleasure like he’d always done.

  Her breath caught when he added another finger, the stretch burning. She clenched around the added girth, a dual act to keep him in and push him out.

  A spear of passion jolted through her groin when he thrust a second set of digits into her vagina, syncing his movements in a slow glide of building need. The double penetration was mind-blowing, an overriding cadence of heat and pressure and pleasure.

  Needy sounds poured from her throat. She clenched the bedding, muscles tense and loose at once. She rocked into him in an attempt to reach her climax, to increase the pace so she could find that apex.

  “Hold on,” he soothed. “Almost ready.”

  She shook her head, hair damp and matted to her brow, but she had no strength to brush it away. “I’m ready,” she managed to say.

  Oh God, she was ready. Every nerve ending snapped with baited energy, and heat burned from her skin, enflamed by the fire he continued to build. Her pulse hammered a heavy war beat that vibrated through her chest and head.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” The hoarse truth of his words raked over her dulled eardrums. He pulled out of her, both holes flexing around the sudden emptiness again. A whimper slithered through her gasps for air.

  Then he was there, pressing on her puckered hole, steadying her hips as he eased inside.

  She bit her lip, the stretch stinging. Her air was gone, lungs empty. He was huge. She bore down, reflexively trying to get it out even if she didn’t want that.

  He popped in then, the tight ring giving enough to allow him entrance. Their mutual groans tore through the room. He dropped forward, bracing around her, forehead grinding into her back.

  “So good,” he mumbled, sinking in farther.

  She sucked in a breath, blew it out and let go. Her resistance gave way then, muscles relaxing in an almost sudden switch that had him bottoming out in a gasp.

  Full. So very full. Strange. Good.

  She squirmed, ass wiggling in demand. Her vagina clenched in absent need while her body begged for more.

  She grabbed his flank, nails digging into his skin. “Move.” Her voice was pitched high with wanton abandon and she swallowed to make it firmer. “Move. Please. Just…” He slid out, his dick rippling over her inner walls in a passionate caress like no other. “Move.” The word whimpered out of her right before he plunged back in.

  “God, Jac…”

  His choked cry was lost in the driving sensation that overtook all thought, all words, everything but the rush that raged through her. How was this so… Who knew it’d be…

  He slammed home, repeating the motion hard and fast, grunting with each ending that drove her forward before she shoved back. Her orgasm raced to the edge, her body screamed for release from the powerful pressure that’d built.

  “Jac.” He blanketed her back, sweat slicking against hers, breath rushing over her neck. The bed jerked with his thrusts. “I can’t… I need…”

  “Yes,” she managed to answer, unsure how the word got out.

  She found her clit and let loose on it. Rubbing madly in a race to find her release.

  It came in a roaring crash of tensing muscles and shattering blackness. Tingles pummeled her limbs, numbing and sensitizing until there was nothing and everything. Blood roared in her ears, breath gusting as the high overtook her, floated her away to the grinding cry of Henrik so close to her ear. She absorbed and ignored it both, simply lost.

  Her legs gave out, squashing her arm beneath her. Henrik was slicked to her back, his panting heaves timing with hers in a rapid seeking of air. His heat baked into her, but she didn’t want him to move. Braced on his forearms, head resting next to hers, he wasn’t crushing her. It was intimate as only lovers could be.

  This she could keep forever. This sense of belonging, of complete happiness where nothing else intruded. This was freedom.

  She lingered in the good feelings, in the right and happy, and for now ignored the dark warnings that spoke of how soon this could all change.

  *

  Henrik tucked Jacqui in close, spooned behind her in his favorite way to sleep. He nuzzled his nose in the flowery scent of her hair, richer now with the lingering heat of their passionate sex.

  Damn, he was still dazed and awed at her lack of inhibitions. “That was amazing,” he said by her ear, stroking her stomach. Slightly rounded and soft. She was everything he wanted, had always wanted.

  “It was.” Her agreement was low, the intimacy holding even after they’d both dragged themselves from the bed to clean up.

  “Thank you.” He kissed the side of her neck, a lingering touch that hopefully communicated exactly how thankful he was—for everything.

  He felt more than heard her chuckle. “Ditto.” She wiggled her bottom, the gentle movement caressing his flaccid dick.

  He countered her light tease with a nip to her shoulder. “Behave.”

  “I thought you liked me when I was naughty.”

  “I do.” He hugged her to him, threading his leg between hers so he was pressed even closer. “I like every side of you.” It was tempting to show her exactly how much he loved all her sides—top, back, bottom, heart, head, spirit—but the exhaustion was catching up to him.

  Her purr rumbled through her back into his chest. She stretched, arched her neck and rolled her head into his. “You’re spoiling me.”

  “Not enough.” She wouldn’t let him do all he wanted. Hell, she still refused to open the keyboard he’d given her.

  “Too much.” She sighed, relaxing into him. She threaded her fingers with his on her stomach, her other hand finding his where it stretched in front of her, his bicep her pillow.

  The cold air had settled in to cool his heated flesh. It was refreshing on his exposed skin above the covers. Beneath them, he was toasty warm next to Jacqui. The darkness was a comfortable blankness that let him dream and hope and…

  “I’d do so much more if you’d let me.” Love you so much more if you wouldn’t run. The sense she was going to bolt at any second still lived with him. Strangled him at times. What he couldn’t define was if it was based on his past experience or her own actions.

  She squeezed his hand, bringing it up to kiss his knuckles. “You don’t need to do more.”

  But he wanted to. He took a fortifying breath and plunged into the family he wanted but had no experience with. “Do you think your brothers would be free next Sunday?”

  “Why?” Her frown came through in her voice.

  “I was thinking they’d like to come over and skate on my ice.” He’d have his ground guys finish the setup this week. “Get a few of my teammates to join us.
Maybe scare up enough guys for a game.” He forced his voice to sound casual, but the increased rate of his heart was most likely giving away his nerves.

  She was silent for a moment, almost too long before she shifted around in his arms, a hand settling on his jaw. Her features were barely discernable in the darkness, yet her touch was soft, her kiss equally gentle.

  “I think they’d love that,” she said. “In fact, I’m positive they’d make the day work no matter what they had planned.”

  He cleared his throat, worry keeping it dry. “Good.” He doubted her positivity. Yet most fans would love the opportunity to skate with players. He was definitely setting the odds of success in his favor. “I’ll need to get their numbers from you so I can invite them.”

  “I can do it.”

  “No,” he insisted, his manhood and manners jumping in. “I’d like to.” The stupid guy-code was kicking in on this one. He needed to show her brothers this was his doing, not hers.

  “Okay.” Her kiss tempered the laugh in her voice.

  He could do this. Her family and his made-up one. He could create his own and surround himself with it. Too bad he had no idea what he was doing.

  He wrapped her in close, cheek resting on her head, slow breaths banking the doubts. But the questions crawled into the knot in his shoulder blade to screw it tighter, along with the lingering belief that this was all too good to last.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Holy fuck, Roller.” Colin slapped Henrik on the back, gaping at the rink and surrounding setup. “This is awesome.”

  Henrik let the pride fill him until it shoved his ten days of festering doubts aside. “It works.”

  “Sure,” Finn nodded, sarcasm heavy. “It works.”

  He hoped it did. He’d had men working steadily to get the walls secured and the layers of ice down. With waist-high boards, the pro-sized rink was more than overboard for his use alone. But then, he hadn’t really built it for himself. The gaggle of neighborhood kids clustered around the rink, eyes wide at the parade of Glaciers players who’d already streamed by, was a testament to that. He’d told them they could watch as long as they kept their fandom to a minimum.

  This was supposed to be a low-key fun event. Supposed to be…

  The set of bleachers he’d rented for the day were already filling with spectators that varied from extended family members of Jacqui’s, wives and kids of his teammates, friends of Jacqui’s brothers and parents of the neighborhood kids. Maybe he should’ve gotten more bleachers. Damn.

  “There’s a warming house around the side of the garage and a path down to the lower level where people are changing.”

  Finn shook his head, hefting his bag higher as he walked off. “A warming house… Christ.”

  “Ignore him,” Colin said. “He’s a dick in general.” He turned to take in Henrik’s house and property. “Thanks for setting this up.”

  Henrik shrugged, resisting the urge to duck his head. He wasn’t a fucking teenager no matter how high-strung his nerves were currently running. “No problem. It’ll be fun,” he nudged Colin. “If you guys can keep up.”

  “Fuck you.” He grinned around his scowl. “We might not be pro, but we’ve been playing our whole lives.”

  “Are you prepared to back that cockiness with a bet?” They both turned to see Rylie approach, his own cocky grin in place.

  Henrik laughed, extending his hand to the man to welcome him before succumbing to the hug from his girlfriend, Samantha. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Samantha beamed. “This is going to rock.”

  Henrik made introductions, the conversational banter continuing as the three headed around the side of the house. He stayed where he was, spotting more cars pulling into his drive. Damn. His simple idea had quickly exploded into an event that consisted of two full teams made up of teammates, family, cousins, friends, friends of friends and God knows who else.

  It was good though. All good. Right?

  He could play hockey. Laugh and joke with everyone. Pretend his stomach wasn’t trying to eat its way out of his insides.

  A couple of guys entered the ice to warm up as he welcomed more people to his house. This wasn’t the first time he’d been grateful for his years of forced socializing and informal training on surviving large events, especially since Jacqui had been hauled inside to help with the food setup. His intention of catering the event had been staunchly overruled once her mother had caught wind of his plans.

  “Hey, Roller,” Hauke said, clasping his hand in a bro-shake. “Are we the last ones here?”

  “We’re still early,” Vanessa corrected, leaning in to place a brief kiss on Henrik’s cheek, an act that dumbfounded him. The woman had been his PR rep for six years, and never once had she extended more than a handshake to him. “This is a great idea. No PR or media. Just a fun community event, but everyone still needs to be conscious of camera phones and videos.” She was already scanning the crowd, her work hat firmly in place.

  Hauke tugged her in for a one-armed hug. “We always are.”

  “Right.” She shot him a non-threatening glare. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

  “Around the side of the house, downstairs,” Henrik directed him, grateful he’d changed before everyone arrived.

  Hauke strode off, calling out to the guys on the ice. Vanessa stayed put though, gaze focused on Henrik instead of her husband. She brushed her hair over her shoulder, her cheeks rosy in the brisk air. The sun was covered by clouds, which made it a perfect day for outside skating. She was prepared though—a heated stadium seat gripped in her gloved hands, a down jacket wrapped in stylish fashion around her.

  “What?” he finally asked, unable to stand her scrutiny any longer.

  Her smile was that enigmatic curl he could never read. “This really is nice. You surprised me.”

  “Oh.” And what else was he supposed to say? “Thanks?”

  Her laugh was a throaty rumble. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “Who?”

  “The one who got you to do all this.” She motioned to the rink, which was filling with more skaters.

  He frowned, annoyance growing. “Why do you think there’s a girl behind this?” It didn’t matter that his motivations for the day were in part due to Jacqui’s influence in his life. It still irked him that Vanessa didn’t believe he’d think of and organize this on his own when he had.

  “Because in all the years I’ve known and worked with you, there’s always been a woman on your arm telling you what to do.”

  His jaw dropped before he snapped it shut. A stab of pain hit his chest with unexpected force that was quickly enflamed by anger. Sure, her words were a variation of what his teammates ragged on him for, but hearing it said so matter-of-factly from Vanessa hurt. He respected her judgment, had to, or she wouldn’t be his PR rep.

  Yet she didn’t respect him, not really. Not based on what she’d just said.

  He stared at the rink, lost for words that wouldn’t damn him. The Ice Queen could cut with a look, and she’d just proven how sharp her tongue could be. Always truthful.

  Another group of people arrived, ones he didn’t know but welcomed with a handshake and a repeat of directions. The women headed through the front door, hands loaded with bags and dishes of food. More of Jacqui’s far-reaching relations. He’d given up trying to remember everyone long before she’d left him out here.

  A touch to his arm brought his attention back to Vanessa, who’d stepped away but was now back. He tried but couldn’t force a smile.

  “You’re a good guy, Henrik.” The subtle use of his first name wasn’t lost on him. She could wade into the man-pool without flinching yet turn around and be this caring woman who was studying him right now. How in the hell did Hauke survive her?

  And weren’t those the exact traits he adored in Jacqui?

  “I’m happy for you.” She squeezed his arm, eyes searing him with their intensity. “I hope this wo
rks for you.” Another smile touched her lips, this one a bit devious. “I’d be happy to talk with her if she’s ever interested.”

  She cocked a brow and walked away while he was still processing her words. Did she…was she…oh hell, she was.

  Heat raced up his neck to rush over his cheeks so fast he could’ve sworn Vanessa had lit a flame before she’d left. He did not want to think about what she and Hauke did together in the privacy of their own home. Especially not when it was implied to him and Jacqui.

  And for some goddamn reason, his dick was perking up at the incongruous thoughts. Fuck, he didn’t need a woody now. The room inside his cup was getting too tight to be comfortable, and that was not good. Not good at all.

  Enough of this shit.

  He stalked to the warming house where he’d left his skates, damn his manners and anyone who wasn’t there yet. There were enough people around to tell them where to go if they couldn’t figure it out for themselves.

  He had a game to play and skating to do. Period.

  Oh, and a woman to win over. One who was still holding out on him for reasons he could only guess at. Was it the cancer risk? Him? Her own fears? Whatever it was, he’d figure it out. He had to.

  *

  “Get it, Henrik!” Jacqui shouted over the other calls, hands cupped around her mouth. She launched to a stand when he got the puck, cheering louder than anyone else. He passed it off to Dan, who carried it over the blue line before dumping it to Hauke.

  She sat back down, grinning for no real reason. This little idea of Henrik’s had grown into a rather huge deal. She was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, and over half of them were her relations. In little over a week, food, schedules, drinks and everything else had been pulled together to turn this into a mini family reunion. One Henrik had been stuck hosting.

  That’d teach him to personally call her brothers with an invitation ending in a challenge and a teaser of other Glaciers coming over to “skate a bit.” Then Henrik had played the unknown trump card to seal his fate by personally inviting her mother.

  A whistle blew, and the play came to a stop. Finn had conned three friends who were referees in their league to ref this game. Not that he’d had to do a lot of begging to get the men to agree. Free food, beer and hanging with pro players was all the arm-twisting they’d needed. Dan had told her he’d had to stop answering his phone once word got out and everyone wanted in. It wasn’t often—try never—that rec guys got a chance to play with the pros.