by L. J. Woods
“Toughen up, Daniels. I won’t let you fall.” I promise.
Delilah’s lips twist. “Sure, you won’t.” But she takes my hand anyway and that spark wasn’t a fluke because it’s there again. In typical Delilah fashion, it doesn’t take her long to warm up. She starts wobbly but I’ve seen her on that board, she can handle it. With a few instructions, she’s standing on her own and doing a twirl in what feels like minutes. The moon shines in from the glass roof as I let her go on the last spin. Her hands out to the side, her skirt twirls like a figure-skater.
Perfection.
With my hands in the air, I cheer her on. “Delilah Daniels! Owning it on the skates.” I make the audience sounds as if she’s the star of her own show and she soaks it up. She always craves that attention and it’s no wonder. The girl never had any from her family. Not the good kind anyway.
“Suck it, Mom!” she laughs, chopping at her crotch like the weirdo I know she is before she slows to a stop. That smile fades like her high is drifting before she stumbles to her ass. And it looks like it hurt.
“Shit, you good?” Skating over to lend a hand, she reaches for it but she looks distant, her gaze on nothing.
“I don’t know what it is but, I wish I could stay away from her, from them, forever.”
She’s talking about her folks and I get it. Grabbing the puck, I drop it on the floor. “Let’s pretend the net is her face.” After grabbing the sticks, I hand one to her. She takes it, balancing herself as she adjusts to the weight.
She smiles, a weak one, but I have to look away before my heart explodes. Before my cock explodes. “Is that what you do when Mommy and Daddy take your toys away?”
“Shut up. It works.”
“I can’t hockey.”
I mock her step-dad, holding out my fingers to my lips like I’m handling a beer bottle. “Don’t be lazy, Delilah.” She rolls her eyes but catches my smile. After positioning the stick in her hand, I move behind her, pushing the puck in front of her with my skate. Taking her arms in mine gives me warmth again. The sweet smell of her hits my nose while I try to focus on lining her up. Moving her hair to the side with my finger, I graze her warm cheek, her body tensing. Pulling my waist back enough that she doesn’t feel my cock hardening against her, I lower my voice in her ear. “Pull back like this. Then, feel the stick. Believe in the stick.” She laughs, her cheeks rising. “Then follow through.” With a pull of her arm, she shoots the cleanest shot I’ve seen in a while. “Score.”
Delilah goes at it. Every time I put the puck back, she slams it into the net. A couple of them even catch air and I kinda wish we had her on the team. She’s got a shot better than Adam.
When she’s had enough, her breath heavy, she looks back at me, long hair flying over her shoulder. “Fucking impressive, Daniels. Better than Elijah…” Fuck. Way to bring that shit up again.
“Let’s play a game,” she says.
“You play enough games.”
“Shot for shot. You and Elijah used to play that, right?”
Doing a lap around the net, I shake my head. “You don’t wanna play the way we used to play.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “I don’t?”
“Nope. Every shot missed meant we took off a piece of clothing.” Looking around the rink I still hear his goofy laugh. “Your brother’s been in his whiteys here more times than I can count.”
She cringes. “What if someone came in?”
I shrug. “That’s kinda the point. Humiliation sucks more than losing.”
“You guys are fucked.” She waves me off. “Let’s do it.” Lining up another shot, she makes the goal. And who am I to back down from a challenge? “If I win, you owe me a conversation.”
Gut punch. “I don’t owe you anything.”
She makes another shot. “That’s two. C’mon. Don’t be a puss—”
CRACK!
The sound of the puck hitting wood cuts her off before it flies clean into the net. “If we’re playing it’s not gonna be easy. Get your ass across the line, Daniels.”
Smiling, she does before she misses her second shot. I’m about to tell her she doesn’t have to follow our silly rules, but she unbuttons her blouse, staring at me as her sports bra comes into view. And she fills it out really fucking well.
There goes my focus.
I land the next shot and she makes hers but as I’m about to make another, she leans over squeezing those tits together. They look like two juicy fruits peeking out at the top of her bra, the light shining right on her tits and I have no idea where the puck is going.
“Looks like you missed!” She smiles, impressed with herself. She’s as competitive as I am.
Like her, I don’t hesitate, pulling my shirt over my head. Her eyes fall to my chest, eyes roaming my abs. She chews the inside of her lip. It’s what she does when she’s nervous and that means I’ve gained the advantage.
“Focus, Daniels,” I tease, slamming the next shot into the net.
Stretching my arms above my head gets her to miss her next shot before her kilt flies at my face. “Your jaw’s on the floor, Godfrey.” It’s not my fault she looks fucking delicious. I don’t know what her parents see. Delilah looks fucking amazing. I’m about to declare myself the winner when she speaks, “Nope. I’ve still got clothes on and so do you. Ready up, Godfrey.” She sinks the shot and now I’m just playing to see how far Delilah will actually go. If Elijah was here, he’d fucking kill me but she’s the one egging this on.
Hiding my boner is starting to get tedious, the chill helping to stifle this stiffy. With my eyes on her, I sink the next shot, too warmed up now to miss. There’s a reason I’m the star center.
She misses the next, her eyes on me and I’m not sure she even tried to hit that. I keep my eyes on her, standing tall as she reaches the front of her bra. My heart booms against my chest when she pulls it over her head, tossing it to the ice.
Jesus. Christ.
She shimmies before she takes off, grabbing my clothes in front of her.
Shit. “Daniels!”
She heads for the exit with a loud laugh but I’m quicker on the ice than she is. Catching up with her, I grab her arm, spinning her around before pressing her body against the glass like I’m checking one of the guys from the team.
“You’re trouble,” I growl, eyes falling to her tits. They’re even better up close. Soft. Kissable. Suckable.
“Yeah, well, you’re a cock.” Her eyes meet mine before hard nipples press against my chest.
“You’re annoying.” Our bodies heave together and I don’t know why I’m out of breath. Those shots were nothing for me. “Loud. Irresponsible.”
“And you’re a fucking asshole.” Our eyes lock, the rink disappearing around us. “Careless and reckless.” I dunno if it’s the drugs or this thing between us but her body starts to glow and I’m drawn to her lips like a moth to a light. I’m so close to them I can almost taste her. Sweet honey. She inches closer so there’s no more space between us before she sighs my name, “Godfrey—”
A rush comes through me when my lips press to hers, that intoxicatingly sweet taste on my tongue again. She sighs, falling against my chest while I pin in her place with my body, her back against the glass. She murmurs against my lips, her hand coming to my arms before I move back. “What?”
“We can’t,” she shakes her head but she bites her lip. “This is fucked up. You’re fucked up. What about—”
“What, Delilah?” Pushing my hips into her, I know she’s right and if she says it, I’ll stop but this nagging voice in my head tells me to make her mine. Right here. Right now. My hand against the glass, her hand moves up my bicep. It’s not helping her argument. Her touch only makes me want her more. She drops her head but I lift it with two fingers. “What about?”
“Everything,” she whispers.
“Fuck everything.” Bringing my lips to hers again, my conscience checks out. I want to lose myself some more. In Delilah. Her arms wrap around me like
she’s not letting go. She holds tight as her tongue moves over mine and my addictive personality is no match to this. This feels too good. When she pulls on my tongue with her lips, I groan, parting her legs with my knee, her warm crotch pressed on my skin. She slides her tongue along the side of my cheek, my cock pressing harder against my boxers. Harder against her. I make a deal with myself. A deal with her because there’s no way either of us is walking away from this now.
“Just this once,” I groan, Delilah pressing her hips into mine. “Just this once, Dee. You’re mine.”
“I’m not anyone’s.” With the way she moans when I give those hardened nipples a pinch, that’s hard to believe.
Her head falls against the glass, my hand pushing between her legs, and hell … “Fuck, you’re so wet, Dee,” I groan against her face and the animal in me takes over. “You sure you don’t belong to me right now?” Lifting her leg to my side gives me access to slide my fingers over her soaking clit.
“Don’t be so sure that’s for you,” she moans. “I could be thinking about anyone.”
That only gets me more heated. Turning her around, I wish I could see how her tits look from the other side, pressed against the glass. “But you’re not, are you?” If someone were to walk in right now they’d get a sight. The pastor’s kid with his hands all over his best friend’s sister is the definition of sin. And I don’t fucking care. Pushing two fingers inside her gets a louder moan before I put my hand over her mouth. “Instead you’re wishing my fingers were my cock. That I was deep inside you, owning your pussy for what it is. Mine.”
“God, I fucking hate you,” she murmurs against my palm. Don’t believe that either. Not when she’s fucking my fingers, her ass bouncing back on my hand. Moving her hair reveals a Zelda tattoo I didn’t know she had, reminding me of some of the many reasons I’ve craved this very moment.
“Harder,” she demands. Picking up my pace, her moans fog up the glass and this is one hell of a peak, my cock pressed against her skin. “Pull my—”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Delilah.” My fingers rake through her hair, grabbing a fistful. We’re tag-teaming Delilah’s climax, turning our pain into pleasure.
It doesn’t take long, her juices dripping down my fingers when her walls clamp down, her cries turning hoarse. Her eyes grow wide in the reflection as her body shakes in my hold. “Fuuuuck!”
Looks like Nix hasn’t been doing his job. As she shakes and writhes on my fingers, that only reminds me how fucked up this is. So why am I already craving more?
A janitor drops his broom, our bodies freezing when he locks eyes with us. Shuffling to pick it up, he turns right back out of the room.
Delilah’s hand comes to her mouth as I back up and I’m waiting for the blow. For the come-down. For the realization we’ve crossed a line, but all she does is laugh. “Fuck, Godfrey,” she smirks, turning around and leaning her back against the glass. Skating over to her clothes, it’s hard to take my eyes off her, my heart racing. “You have a boner they could see from hell.”
Tossing her clothes at her, she catches them, but if I stay here any longer, there’s no telling what I’ll do with said boner. “Shut up. Get dressed.” I need a breather. A smoke. Grabbing my clothes, I make my way to the exit, Delilah’s moans echoing in my head.
Fourteen
Delilah
One Year Ago
“For the love of cocks!” My yell echoes over the loud murmur of boos across the room.
“Fuck the refs!” Gabe’s big fist hits the wood, the tray of fresh pints bouncing with it. “That’s a bullshit call!”
“His skate totally passed the line!” I agree, yelling at the game projected above the long black bar.
“No doubt about it.” Slamming a beer in front of me, Gabe nudges my shoulder. “IPA, right? That murky shit?”
“Your balls are murky,” I correct him, even though I doubt they are. “This is delicious.”
“As murky as the refs’ judgment.”
“Fuck the refs!” Gabe and I say in unison.
When he locks his eyes on mine, it’s easy to forget we’re in a bar. Easy to forget we’re across from my brother. Those deep dark eyes are way too easy to drown in. Always have been. He laughs, my cheeks on fire as I reach for the “murky” pint.
“You guys are on another level.” Elijah leans back on his chair, his black hoodie with the stars rolled to his neck, white tank underneath. He looks around the bar. String lights hang off exposed beams above, some old Ice Cube bumping in the background. The room is a blast of colour. Blue, purple, pink and yellow. Nineties memorabilia cover the walls. Toaster Tarts. Holly Pocket. Beta Pets. “It’s just a game.”
“Boy Meets Bar” is packed for a Thursday night, but when the Emporers are playing, this dive bar in Kensington is the perfect place to be. Nothing but die-hards.
“More like my future,” Gabe mutters, pulling his pint to his lips. A drop drips down his thick neck and it’s hard not to nibble my lip. “Speaking of the future …” Gabe taps on his nose, my brother nodding across from him.
“We’re gonna step out for a, uh, smoke.” Flipping the cap on his head, Elijah rises from the stool, the game on commercial. As if I don’t know what that means. They’ve been partying hard all month. “Don’t talk to boys.” He always parts with this. As an older brother, he feels it’s his duty.
“What about that guy?” Tilting a chin to the hipsters at the end of the bar, there’s one with a tongue ring and tats that’s been smiling my way all night. Not that I care.
“Definitely, not that guy.” Gabe’s voice in my ear makes me jump. My heart booms against my chest, the smell of cinnamon in my nose. “Unless you like man-buns.” He raises his voice, his deep bass rolling above the crowd. “Now pick your jaw up off the floor, I can see your drool from here.”
My shoulders drop, cheeks heating when the hipster looks my way.
Laughing, Gabe ruffles my hair as I slide into my seat. “Maybe, I do like man-buns.”
Gabe laughs again. “Good luck with that.” Elijah tugs him away and that’s when I realize I’ve been chewing on my lip again. Watching as he makes his way out, my eyes fall to his tight ass swaying back and forth, the outline of his muscles on display even under that hoodie. With a stride as confident as the way he signals the bartender, it’s no wonder he always gets attention from every girl in this bar.
“Ten years and you’re still pining for Godfrey dick, Liles?” Nix slams into the chair next to me. “I saw you droolin’ from the front door.” Wiping my mouth, I’m starting to wonder if I really am drooling. Nix laughs, giving me a nudge with his fist. “What’s the score?”
“Nil. We fucking suck tonight.”
“Damn!” Nix slams on the table. “Alright, lemme run to the john and I’ll buy us a round of shots to make it all better.” With a salute, he heads off, my eyes drifting back to the door.
The boys must have had a quick ‘smoke’ because they’re already back inside, entertaining the girls at a table by the door. Unlike me, they’re in skirts, legs in pretty slippers that match their pretty hair. My hair is a long dark dull mess of waves while theirs is shiny and bouncy. I’m in neon green shorts and a baggy white tank while their dresses form to their perfect bodies.
Gabe slings an arm around the brunette, whispering something in her ear while the other pushes her hand through my brother’s curls. The sound of the bar muffles, my eyes on the way he trails a finger along her bangled arm. Goosebumps rise on my skin and it’s like I felt it myself.
“Hey, sweetheart.” A deep voice pulls my eyes away, the hipster from the bar now in front of our table. “That your old man?”
Shaking my head, I snort, “Old man? Where you from? The fifties?”
He laughs before that tongue ring comes between tobacco-stained teeth. “I’m from wherever you’re goin’.” With a wink, his eyes drop to my chest.
Glancing back at my brother and Gabe, they’re also distracted by tits. I’d ex
pect Gabe to know mine are bigger but as Elijah’s younger sister, I doubt he even notices. Running my tongue along my bottom row of teeth, I pull down my shirt so he can get a better view. Patting the seat next to me, I push my hair back on my head. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me more?”
Sure enough, he does. His name is Jeff and he starts telling me about his bike. Something about a cycling club. Blah, blah, blah. Nix is on the phone when he comes out of the bathroom, apologizing to yet another girl for meeting me at a bar. He rushes out the door, a finger to his ear. A laugh comes from the table with Gabe and Elijah, loud enough for me to lose track of whatever this guy’s saying.
He’s not as tall as Gabe. Not as built. No tattoos and the way he’s babbling on tells me he thinks he has more confidence than Gabe does. A loud laugh doesn’t get Gabe to look our way. It gets an eyebrow arch from Jeff and when I laugh again, my hand on his arm settles him down. “Can you put your…” I pause, taking his arms and wrapping it around me, a waft of onion coming off his pits. Holding my breath, I nod. This is fine. I’m not being childish at all. “Here.”
“Oh, so you’re that kind of girl,” Jeff’s voice turns into a weird scratchy noise. Like he’s trying to put on a husky tone but it’s just not working. “I like that kinda girl.”
Looking over my shoulder, Gabe has his hand in her fucking pocket. My shoulders drop. When I turn around, Jeff’s lips are right in my face. “Woah!” My hand comes in front. “Down, Jeffry.”
Jeff’s eyebrows lower, a laugh erupting from the bar. His buddies. He glances back before he inches his chair closer. “I thought—you put my arm around you.”
“If that’s an invitation to kiss me, what the fuck happens if I ask you for a hug?”
“Baby,” he pleads, scooting closer.
I scoot back. “Ew.”
His hand lands on my hip before the rest of my murky beer flies out my glass and on his face.