Scoring Off The Ice: Ice Kings, #2

by Stacey Lynn

  Silky. Smooth. Hot. So damn hot. And wet.

  “Shit,” I pant. “I might embarrass myself here.”

  “I can help you.”

  “No.” If she touches me, frees me in any way I’m done for. I at least want to please her first. Give before I take. “Later. If you want.”

  “Oh.” She rolls her hips that presses right against me. “I’ll want later. Trust me.”

  This time I’m the one laughing into her mouth, smiling as I kiss her. It quickly dies as I find her center. She’s swollen and burning up. So damn hot it feels like warmth and wetness and everything beautiful. And then I find her bundle of nerves. It pulses against my fingertip and I seek further.

  Good Lord in heaven. She’s so tight and I press a finger inside of her.

  She gasps into my mouth, whispers a yes, grinds against me and yeah. I’ve got this.

  I find the rhythm that works for her, pressing and rolling and sliding my thumb over her clit, and pull back from kissing her.

  I want to see what I’m doing to her. Watch how she reacts. Her head falls, and we both watch my hand, shoved down to her pants, but I can see where my fingers disappear into her.

  Hear the slick sounds.

  Her gasps and whimpers turn to groans and her hips buck faster against my hand. Against my dick.

  “Oh God. Mikah.” She still has fingers digging into my scalp. Pain and pleasure. It mixes together and I dip my head, suck her nipple into my mouth while I keep watching my hand. Watching Paisley come apart. “So close. More.”

  She’s reduced to words and not sentences. Sounds with only vowels.

  I’m not sure if she means harder or faster or keep going, but I take a risk and add another finger and she throws her head back, hair falling all over the place and the scent of vanilla hits my nose.

  She’s close. So close. I can feel her throb around my fingers and her hips lose control.

  I rub her harder. Faster. Twisting my fingers to find that rigid space of flesh inside and when I suck her nipple into my mouth one last time, she falls apart.

  She bites down on her lip. It doesn’t hide the noises she makes. They’re glorious.

  I’ve made her come apart. I’ve never seen anything more sexy, watching her buck against my hand, rubbing my dick through my jeans and I bite down on my own lip so I don’t come in my jeans.

  “Vidunderlig.”

  She collapses to my shoulders and laughs. “What does that mean?”

  “Gorgeous. Although I think the word in English might be prettier.”

  “I like when you speak Danish.”

  I usually only do it when I’m by myself, working out problems in my head, talking to myself. There are four different languages teammates can speak on the team but the only one we all know is English. I rarely speak in my native language anymore and yet I realize I do it plenty around Paisley. It comes without thought.

  “Come here.” I slide my hand out of her pants and wrap my arms around her. Her breasts press to my chest and her fingers finally release from my scalp.

  I would tease her for hurting me, but I like it and I want her to do it more.

  Next time.

  When I’ve had the patience to get her to a bed, but I hadn’t expected our kiss to turn into this.

  Not that I’m complaining. Nope. No complaints here except my dick is still hard and wanting attention.

  As if she knows, or understands, her hand slides between us and presses against my bulge. “It’s later,” she whispers, kissing the column of my throat. Her lips press against a vein there and yes. I like this idea very much.

  Her lips are curled into a smile, I can feel it, hear the whisper of her quiet laugh.

  “You don’t have to.” But God, I definitely want.

  If she stays, we’ll do this again, in my bed. Naked. I want her more than I can remember wanting anything other than hockey.

  Paisley’s hand goes to the button of my jeans and her fingers work quickly. Frantically. It’s almost like she wants my dick in her hands more than I do. She leans back to her knees, breasts swinging in a tantalizing way so close to my face and grinning at my still covered dick like it’s dessert.

  The zipper goes down.

  And yes. I most definitely want.

  “Can I?” she asks, hand sliding to my waistband. She’s wiggled back on my lap to give herself more room.

  Oh yes. She can. I will let her do whatever she desires.

  Until a piercing cry comes from the hallway.

  “No,” I moan and close my eyes, cringing.

  “Angelo,” she whispers. Her head has turned and she’s looking in the direction of the hallway, his bedroom, to where he sounds very unhappy.

  “I should go get him.” But it will take me a second to move. I don’t tell her that. Instead, I kiss her quickly, brush the hair off her cheek and slide her off my lap. I grab her shirt and hand it to her. “You get dressed. We’ll be right back.”

  Angelo is not happy when I enter his room. He’s kicked his legs so much he’s no longer swaddled in that weird way where his arms and legs are so tight only his face shows through the blanket. I’m more than a little frustrated he’s cock-blocked me once again, but somehow, as soon as I have him in my arms, that frustration melts away.

  He has the strangest effect on me. Making me feel bigger and stronger than I already am in the weirdest, most indescribable way.

  I dig through his crib for his pacifier and come up empty, so I grab another one from the changing table. The furniture was delivered and installed earlier this week and my condo is quickly being overtaken by baby things. Baby things are everywhere.

  I like cleanliness. Order. Rules and priorities where I can make lists and ensure everything runs like a well-oiled ship.

  Angelo undoes all of that in the span of twenty minutes and my home has never been more disorderly since Angela dropped him at my door. And yet, I’m not irritated by that either.

  He rejects the pacifier, head whipping back and forth and pinched up in the way he does when he’s really angry about something.

  And still, I smile at him. “I should probably thank you. Or maybe your mom.” Although I do not want to thank Angela for anything yet, except for maybe giving him to me. “Without you, I might not have just had my hand down my neighbor’s pants.”

  A snort comes from behind me and I turn. Paisley is in the doorway, holding a bottle, shaking her head and laughing at me. “I don’t think you should let him know what we just did.”

  “He doesn’t understand. And besides, I think he likes it.” He’s quieted down.

  Perhaps he smells his formula. Perhaps he likes Paisley more than he likes me.

  I will take the credit for it this time though. I bounce him in my arms and reach out for the bottle. “Thank you.”

  I don’t remember the last time he ate and I’m not sure what time it is now except that it’s late and he only slept for a couple of hours. Maybe if I can figure out how to get him happy now, he’ll sleep until morning. Hopefully it’s not wishful thinking.

  Angelo takes the bottle and begins chugging like I haven’t fed him in days, except for only a few hours. “I wonder if he’s having a growth spurt. The book says they can eat a lot more and be unhappy.”

  “If he finishes that and gets fussy, we can give him more.”

  “Would you mind grabbing a diaper and his wipes?” I’ve taken to keeping most of them in his room.

  “No problem.” Paisley sashays by me and I’m drawn to the swish of my shirt and my pants on her body. Especially now that I know how good everything beneath it feels in my hands. She grabs what I’ll need, and I gesture with my head for her to head back to the living room first.

  “I’ll feed him out there. Change him. See if I can get him back down.”

  “Also, you want to check out my ass when I’m in front of you, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” There’s no point in lying.

  Paisley laughs and as she passes
us, her hand presses to my cheek. I turn and kiss her palm. “It’s getting late. I should go… unless, do you want me to stay?”

  “The night. Yes. I want that.” Even if it takes a while to get Angelo back to sleep, I still want to climb into my bed with Paisley. I want to hold her and sleep with her and wake up next to her even if sleep is all we do.

  “Okay then.” She winks at me. “Enjoy the show then.”

  She puts extra sway to her walk, and I grin, following her. In my arms, Angelo is still chugging his bottle. His eyes drift close as he does, and his body relaxes in my arms.

  Good. Hopefully when he’s full, I can change his diaper without rousing him too much.

  And then I can get Paisley back in my arms. Her body pressed to mine.

  Yes, that is definitely how I want to end this night.

  Chapter Twenty

  Paisley

  * * *

  The room is dark when I blink my eyes open. It takes me but a brief moment to remember where I am, whose bed I fell asleep in. Mostly because I’m still laying with my head pressed to Mikah’s bare chest, his hand wrapped around me and resting on my lower back.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve woken up pressed to someone and yet this is exactly how he wanted it last night. I’m more surprised I haven’t moved. I usually enjoy my space in a bed, but perhaps that’s because most men I’ve slept with haven’t meant as much to me as Mikah does even in the short time I’ve known him.

  And he wanted me here. Like I was going to say no to him.

  “Stay,” he’d said again after he fed and changed Angelo and put him back to bed in his crib. “Stay the night with me.”

  I hadn’t expected anything else to happen. I was exhausted, from the late hour and the orgasm and goodness gracious. For a man with little experience, Mikah knows exactly how to work a woman’s body. The memory alone of how quickly and confidently he learned what I liked, watched my responses and brought me to an orgasm that had me fighting a scream makes my body flush with heat down to my toes that are pressed against his ankle.

  Angelo is quiet based on the sounds, or lack of sounds, coming from the monitor on Mikah’s nightstand. The clock says it’s almost seven, which means Angelo has slept for over six hours.

  Thank goodness. With how unhappy he was last night, I’m glad he’s sleeping. I would think if he was sick, he wouldn’t have slept so well overnight.

  As much as I want to stay curled up next to Mikah, or perhaps wake him doing more enjoyable things—after all, I still owe him an orgasm—there are other things I need to do today.

  Work. I’m behind on my research. I wasn’t lying when I said I had a head full of him. He’s consumed all of my thoughts since we officially met, and I’ve been slacking on things that must be done. I don’t have time to waste today.

  Beneath my hand, Mikah’s chest rises and falls, deeper and then shallow, becoming unsteady. I feel his head turn. His lips press to my head.

  “You’re still here.”

  “Just woke up.”

  He squeezes me tightly to him and groans. “Spend the day with me. Just like this.”

  “You’re still dreaming if you think Angelo will allow that.”

  “Perhaps I should have hired Leah.” I snort at that the thought. “Then I could have you alone all day.”

  I press up on his chest so I can smile down at him. He’s sleepy and disheveled and frustration lines his brow. “I’ll give that to you anytime you want it, but to be honest, I have to get to campus this morning and get work done. I’m behind on my thesis research and I have a check-in later this week.”

  He groans again, wipes a hand across his face and then shoves back his hair. “It’s early. Stay with me just a while. Like this. Possibly with less clothes on.”

  Beneath the sheets draped across his hips, he only has on a pair of black boxers. I slept in the shirt last night. “We’re practically naked already.”

  “Practically naked. Not naked.”

  He rolls quickly, so fast, I squeal as his body is suddenly on top of mine and his elbows are by my shoulders. He keeps his weight off me, but his fingers slide to my head and then my scalp where he threads his fingers through my hair. I tip my chin up so I can look him in the eye.

  “You make a valid argument. But I really do have to work.” At the thought, my lip curls.

  “You don’t like your work?”

  “Oh, no. I mean, I don’t really like school. But I’ve always wanted to be a teacher. I think I’m just ready to be done.” The last thing I want to do is lay here beneath him and think of anything else.

  I press my hand to his cheek and lift my head, kissing his chin. It’s all I can reach.

  “Maybe, if you let me up now, I can bust my ass on campus this morning. Then we can have the afternoon and evening together?”

  “I think that sounds perfect. On one condition.”

  He leans forward and keeps coming until I’m forced to fall to my back. He still keeps moving until his lower half is pressed to mine. Wow and oh dear sweet heavenly Jesus. He’s hard. And so big.

  “What’s the condition?” I ask, losing my breath to this man.

  “Kiss me.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Two conditions then. Kiss me. And on Monday, come to Jude’s Labor Day party with the team. All families are invited.”

  “Okay.” That’s easy. I like his teammates. And the girlfriends and wives I’ve met. Plus Katie, Jude’s fiancée and I totally hit it off last week.

  “Good.” He grins and drops his head. “Now, about that other condition.”

  How can I not give in? I lean forward and press my lips to his. True to form, Mikah allows me to lead it for a moment before taking over.

  And I love that about him, too.

  After I texted Mikah to let him know I was on my way home from school, he met me in our hallway. Angelo was in the stroller, strapped into his car seat and facing Mikah, happily sucking on a pacifier, feet moving back and forth on the seat like he was excited to see me.

  He’s probably too young for that, but I like imagining it. Mikah insisted they were ready to go so I let them in for a few minutes to change my clothes and throw my hair up. It’s cloudy with rain forecasted for later in the evening, making it a good afternoon to be outside with Angelo. It’s not too hot or sunny for him.

  We’re now walking through Charlotte, headed to one of the city parks while devouring lobster tacos from a food truck we stopped at.

  “What’s it like? College? Graduate school?”

  He tilts his head and presses his overflowing lobster taco closed at the top. I’m not sure how it’s possible a man can look so sexy chomping down on a taco. Mikah pulls it off so well it takes me a moment to process what he asked.

  And then why—he never got to go to college. Or maybe he didn’t want to.

  “It was fun.” I try to remember my undergrad years but they’re a blur of a lot of beer, a handful of frat boys, and late-night Jimmy John’s sub sandwich deliveries. “A lot of work, a lot of studying. Classrooms that looked like auditoriums and sat hundreds. But there were weekend parties. Fraternity and sorority parties and get-togethers. Football games. Basketball games.”

  “And you went to those?”

  I bump my hip into him. “Purely for the social aspect, I promise.”

  “Of course.” He eats the rest of his taco and balls up the wrapper, pressing it into the cup holder of Angelo’s stroller. “And graduate school? It’s different?”

  “It is. A lot of classes can be taken online and there are a lot of programs that are for those already working so it’s mostly night classes. I’m lucky Charlotte has the full-time day program. I wouldn’t want to work full-time and then go to classes all night.”

  “What do you want to teach?”

  “Ah. That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

  His eyes widen, as if I’ve surprised him. It’s more surprising to me that I know so much about t
he kind of man he is but know so little about him. “You don’t know?”

  “I always wanted to teach high school. But when I did my student teaching, I started thinking about middle school. And while I can teach English, I also keep debating about Social Studies. I want to take a subject kids usually find boring and make it more interesting for them. So, I guess, now, I don’t really know. I have more time to figure it out, though.”

  In front of us, Angelo makes an unhappy sound and Mikah pulls back the cover to check on him. He’s spit out his pacifier so Mikah pops it back. As he does, Angelo gives a full body shiver on his tiny little frame and sighs happily.

  “He’s so sweet.” I can’t believe how much I love this little guy. “I like him.”

  “I do too.” Mikah leaves the cover open and starts walking again. “I also like you.”

  We dodge a couple boys racing down the sidewalk with a mom hurrying behind them. She gives us a harried expression and a quick I’m sorry before yelling their names as she passes us.

  “Imagine that in a few years,” I tease Mikah, laughing at the small boys who look to be around six or so.

  Mikah’s face pales and his eyes widen. He looks back at them, at Angelo and shakes his head. “Sometimes it is hard to think of more than a day. Years… that’s… that seems like a lot.”

  I love how he can seem so confident, adjust so easily to becoming a dad and so easily unsettled.

  “Have you told your parents about him yet?”

  “No. They’ll find out eventually. I thought of calling my mom and letting her know. But, no good will come from it, I do not think. And right now, I do not want someone telling me I cannot handle this.”

  “That sucks. I can’t believe your dad is so harsh.”

  “Harsher than you can think of.” We walk a little bit more and he turns to me, blond brow arched, head tilted in a way he seems to do whenever he’s curious. “Your dad. What would he say?”

  “If I showed up at home pregnant or with a baby?” I laugh at the thought. “He’d probably first get his shotgun and go hunting for the guy who knocked me up.”