Player on Ice (Boys of Winter Book 5)

by S. R. Grey

  Giggling, she replies, “I do. Is that okay? You gotta love Mr. Hockeypants, right? He just tells it like it is.”

  “Sure he does,” I mutter as I sign my name across words I’m convinced were written purely to fuck with my life.

  I hand the paper back to the girl, and she runs off.

  “Wow, that was weird,” I remark.

  Noel is still on the line and says, “I heard all of that. Sorry, man.”

  I shake my head. “Can you believe my life these days?”

  Before Noel can respond, I notice where the girl has run off to. And it’s not to the mall, or to her car. She’s stopped at a news van, where she’s handing over the paper I just autographed.

  “Oh, fuck!”

  “What now?” Noel asks.

  “That autograph I just signed is for a fucking news story. This is horrible, man. It’s going to be plastered all over the media that I just autographed a hit piece on me. That’s like me agreeing to everything that dickwad Hockeypants dude wrote. What the hell was I thinking?”

  Noel, in a low voice, says, “Uh, about that beach house—”

  “Fuck, man, say no more. Drop off the keys as soon as you can. I am outta here.”

  Island Surprise

  Noel Sandlund’s beach house exceeds all expectations. It’s a funky white contemporary with lots of floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase stunning views of the ocean. They also give the home a real open-air feel.

  As I walk from room to beautiful room, I can’t believe this gorgeous abode is all mine and Noelle’s for the next few weeks. That’s how long she and I have decided to stay. Although we may extend our vacation longer if we really like it here. It’s not like I have anything I need to be back for, and since Noelle didn’t get that internship she’s free the whole summer too.

  Speaking of Noelle…

  “I can’t wait for her to get here,” I murmur as I plop down on a creamy white sectional sofa.

  Beautiful as this place is, it’s kind of boring hanging here all alone. I made a light dinner a while ago and checked out the outdoor patio off the living room. I even unpacked and chose a bedroom from the many available upstairs. But the truth is that I’m running out of things to do. I just want Noelle here so we can laugh and talk and get started on our island fun.

  Ugh, where is she?

  We were supposed to fly down together, but some last-minute grad school business held her up. The dean wanted to meet with her. It was something supposedly urgent, so it’s not like she could blow it off.

  While Noelle stayed behind, I hopped on our originally planned early morning flight. She rescheduled for the afternoon, but it’s nine in the evening now and still no Noelle.

  She should definitely be here by now. Come to think of it, it’s kind of weird I’ve received no texts or calls from her all day.

  Suddenly apprehensive that something’s gone wrong, I grab my phone and call her. To my relief, she answers right away.

  “Oh, thank God,” I breathe out. “I was starting to think the dean may have kidnapped you.”

  She snorts, “If you saw how tiny the dean is, you’d never think that. I could probably take him down in under a minute.”

  Noelle is really tall and doesn’t put up with any bullshit, so I reply, “I have no doubt.” Then I get down to business. “Where in the hell are you, anyway? You don’t sound like you’re in transit.”

  “That’s because I’m not,” she says.

  “What do you mean you’re not? Was your flight delayed or something?”

  “Oh, jeez, I don’t even know.”

  Alarmed, I tell her, “Hey, you’re scaring me here.”

  Laughing, she assures me, “It’s nothing to be scared about, Cara. And I am sorry. I should’ve called or texted an update, but I’ve been running around like crazy since this morning. I literally just walked out of an interview two minutes ago.”

  Totally confused now, I murmur, “An interview? But it’s like six o’clock back there. What are you talking about? Wasn’t your meeting with the dean really early?”

  “It was. But what he wanted to talk about was this interview I just came out of. He set it up for me.”

  “I am so lost right now,” I say, feeling, well…lost.

  With a note of apology in her tone, Noelle says, “I know and again, I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, my head’s spinning too. But really, this is a good development.”

  Noelle then fills me in on how the meeting with the dean was in regard to that sweet internship she was vying for. Apparently, the candidate who was chosen backed out at the last minute.

  “And since I was second in line,” she continues, “they requested to speak with me as soon as possible.”

  Even though I’m disappointed she’s clearly not en route, I’m amped for her.

  “Well, don’t leave me in suspense,” I say excitedly. “What happened?”

  “I got the internship!” she squeals.

  “That is so awesome, Noelle. I’m truly happy for you.”

  “Um, you may not be, though, when you hear the bad part.”

  “Uh-oh, I think I know where this is going.”

  And I do. If she got the internship, she obviously can’t be a beach bum for the next few weeks.

  Sure enough, she informs me, “I won’t be able to come down to the island. They want me to start right away.”

  Sure, I’m disappointed, but I’m thrilled for my best friend. Her dream internship has come through after all. How cool is that?

  “Aw, that’s okay,” I say. “I can just go re-pack my things and book a flight back for tomorrow.”

  “Oh, no,” she replies, “don’t do that. Just stay down there as long as you like. Enjoy the beach and the sun, and hey, have a few cocktails for me. While you’re out catching rays, you can think of how I’m back here in my sunless cubicle slaving away.”

  I’m tempted by her offer to stay, but hesitant.

  “I don’t know, Noelle. What would I do here on the island all by myself? I was already bored before I called you, and that was after only a few hours.”

  “Yeah, but this was just your first day, Cara. And you know how it is when you arrive at a new place. You have to acclimate, get used to your new surroundings.”

  “True,” I agree.

  And then I glance around and murmur, “Your brother’s place is really nice.”

  “So stay. Better to be bored at a nice beach house than be bored sitting around your little apartment, right?”

  “You do have a point,” I concede. “But do you think Noel will be cool with me staying here without you?”

  She scoffs, “Pfft, of course. He texted me earlier that he made it to Sweden, but I haven’t had a chance to talk with him and update him on what’s been going on. He doesn’t know about the internship, or that anyone’s at the beach house. But don’t worry. I’ll let him know that you’re there and will be staying for a while.”

  “You sure it’s okay?” I double-check.

  “Yes, definitely. Now stop. Noel will be thrilled someone is enjoying his place and it’s not just sitting there empty like always.”

  I think it over. Some time alone might be good for me. I can relax and be a beach bum on my own. Plus, hello, we’re talking island paradise here. I’d be crazy to fly back.

  I’m leaning toward staying, but to confirm my decision I slide open the glass doors to the patio and lean against the frame, propping the phone between my chin and ear.

  There are wooden steps leading down to the ocean, and even in the darkness, the waves are the prettiest crystal blue-green color. They appear almost florescent.

  It’s peaceful here and just so darn pretty.

  “You know what?” I say at last. “I think I will stick around for a while.”

  “Awesome!” Noelle exclaims. “And who knows? Maybe fate will shine down on you and some hot man will show up and spice things up.”

  I let out a snort. “Uh, unless that groundskee
per you told me about is a secret Adonis, I don’t see that happening.”

  Chuckling, she says, “Hmm, I think Noel mentioned he’s about eighty. But you like older men, right?”

  “Ugh. I like them older by a year or two, you bitch, not by fifty-seven!”

  “What, wrinkly balls don’t do it for you?”

  I scrunch up my face and mutter, “You are so gross.”

  We share a laugh then, and that makes me lament, “This sucks. I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “I know. I’ll miss you too. But that’s why you have to find a way to have fun for both of us.”

  I assure her that I’ll make the most of my time down here, no matter what.

  “I promise to enjoy the sun, the sand, and the ocean—everything but wrinkly balls.”

  Fantasy Girl

  Noel drops the key off for his beach house before he heads to the airport for his red-eye to Sweden.

  After I tie up my own loose ends, I fly down to Florida. Two connections later find me on the island.

  I have to take a jitney from the tiny regional airport to Noel’s house on the beach. The island is so sparsely populated that regular taxi service isn’t even an option. The driver informs me of this and that the people who work here usually return to the mainland at night.

  Good, it’s looking more and more like I won’t be bothered by a single soul.

  Noel was right. There are no Wolves fans here to worry about, and absolutely no freaking Mr. Hockeypants.

  Damn, I’m still seething over that bastard and his shitty post implicating me as the primary reason for our playoff loss.

  But I need to leave all that negativity behind. I’m on an island now and I cannot fucking wait to lounge on the beach and live like a hedonist.

  Since there are no people to worry about, maybe I won’t even bother with clothes.

  “Yeah, what would be the point?” I mumble to myself after I pay the jitney driver and am jogging up to my new home. “I’m the only one around.”

  Once I’m inside the house—which is kickass cool, by the way—I get started on the hedonist-lifestyle by stripping down to absolutely nothing.

  Man, I feel free and a little dirty, and I fucking love it.

  Leaving my luggage in the entryway by the door, I pad barefoot to the kitchen.

  “Sweet,” I murmur upon finding it’s fully stocked. “Looks like Noel’s help thought of everything.”

  Only thing that’s weird, though, is that there’s a bottle of vodka on the counter. And it’s open.

  Hmmm, maybe the housekeeper helped herself to a nip or two before she left? Oh, well, who cares? There’s plenty left.

  Picking up the bottle, and flipping it ala Cocktail, I unscrew the cap and take a shot.

  And then I take another.

  Ah, hell.

  I grab the whole fifth and step down into the sunken living room. That’s when I spy another oddity—the sliding glass doors leading out to the patio are slightly ajar.

  “Good thing robbery isn’t a concern around here,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head.

  Dick swinging and booze in hand, I walk over to slide the doors open the whole way.

  Fuck, it’s gorgeous out there.

  There’s a beautiful private beach just down from the patio. The best part, though, is that it’s all mine for as long as I want.

  I can’t see the entire beach area, particularly off to the left, because there’s a low wall around the patio…and a bunch of flowers and crap growing wild in ceramic pots lining the top of the wall.

  No worries, I can check out the whole beach area later. I think for now that I’ll stay on the patio. It’s close to the house for when I need to take a piss, which will be soon since I’m polishing off this fifth like a beach bum mofo.

  Grabbing the edge of a chaise lounge, I drag it to a real sunny spot on the patio. A concern about my naked self crosses my mind for a hot minute. I mean, shit, what if someone is down on the beach, like a worker or a random passing through?

  But then I realize that if I can’t see anyone, no one can see me.

  So yeah, I’m good.

  Stretching out on the lounger, I take another shot from the bottle, while enjoying the feel of the sun warming my balls.

  But wait, shit. Sunburn down there would really suck. And not in a good way.

  Lucky for me, there’s a big, fluffy white towel oh-so-conveniently located near my chair. When I lift it up, I uncover a bottle of sunscreen.

  Wow, I’m impressed with Noel’s super-thoughtful help. He told me everything would be readily available and at my fingertips, but this is taking shit to a whole new level.

  I make a mental note to leave the staff an extra big tip before I leave—which, at this point, might not be for a really long time.

  Taking advantage of the handy sunscreen, I slather it onto my legs, chest, and shoulders—mmm, that feels good—and then I cover my junk with the towel.

  But that doesn’t last long.

  Sun and vodka must be good for the libido since, within minutes, I’m pitching a pretty impressive tent.

  When my dick gets so hard that the towel slides off, I can’t resist the call of the wild.

  I bend my knees and reach down to wrap my hand around my now-throbbing cock.

  “Ah, fuck, yeah,” I murmur as I begin stroking.

  But, man, after a minute, I realize I could use a little lube.

  I stop and look around.

  Hmm, that sunscreen should do. Plus—bonus!—it’ll protect my dick from harmful rays.

  I squirt a bunch in my hand, close my eyes, and get back to stroking. All lubed up, I start fantasizing I’m here with some hot babe.

  My hand is slick enough that it’s easy to pretend fantasy girl’s warm mouth is on my cock.

  “Yeah, suck it, baby,” I groan, my hand moving faster and faster.

  I pretend to flip her over so I can start drilling into her.

  Fantasy girl is soon screaming, that’s how damn good I am.

  Shit, this is so realistic—I am fucking amazing.

  But then I realize someone really is screaming. And it’s not in ecstasy, it’s in…fear?

  Or is that disgust?

  “Oh my God, you repulsive pervert!” a shrill female voice yells.

  Hmm, we have a winner—disgust it is.

  Hey, I can work with that. Though when she keeps yelling, I’m not so sure. Yappy fantasy woman is really starting to fuck with me getting off.

  Sighing, I stop stroking and open my eyes.

  Whoa, maybe this really is a fantasy!

  Why else would the babe in front of me, though clearly furious, be hot as sin?

  I look her over. Her hair is long and wild, brunette with highlights the color of new pennies. And she has a pretty face, one of those heart-shaped ones with the pert little nose.

  And then there’s her body, oh, her body…

  She has curvy hips and big breasts that are heaving, threatening to pop out of her barely there polka dot bikini top.

  Please do!

  My dick demands that I keep going, so I rasp, “Can you just stand there like that for another minute, sweetheart?”

  She says nothing, so I start stroking away, faster and faster.

  “I’m close now,” I rasp, “so fucking close—”

  Fantasy girl then suddenly screams out, “Oh, no, you don’t, you sick fuck!”

  And before I know what’s happening, a big blue planter is whizzing toward my head.

  I Think I Just Killed Jaxon freaking Holland

  Oh my God—I think I just killed Jaxon freaking Holland!

  That’s who that is. I can see that now. Though why he’s here on the island, not to mention at Noel’s beach house, I have no idea.

  But yes, it appears I have murdered a man.

  How could this happen?

  I run my hands through my slightly damp hair and squeak out a little, “Help.”

  How was I supposed to
know the guy jerking off was someone other than the ancient groundskeeper? I even looked for his wrinkly balls to confirm, but unfortunately the planter was already in the air.

  Of course, if I’d been able to pry my eyes away from his throbbing shaft a little sooner, I may have realized this guy is about six decades less than eighty.

  And that he’s Jaxon Holland.

  Speaking of which, who knew he had such a giant co—

  “Jesus, Cara, stop it. You just killed a man. And not just any man but a famous hockey player man.”

  I race over and kneel next to Jaxon’s lifeless body.

  Should I say a prayer or something?

  I’m about to, but then I glance down.

  Oh my God, his corpse is sporting wood!

  Or is that the start of rigor mortis?

  Hmmm…

  In any case, maybe a prayer is not appropriate. Although someone really should praise God for giving this man such an impressive member.

  Stop it! You’re sick in the head, Cara.

  Thinking shit like that when you should be preparing for your impending arrest.

  Buuuutt….

  I can’t help but wonder what his dick would do if I touched it?

  I mean, like, can dead guys come?

  Oh my God, this is getting nuts.

  Nuts, yeah, those look nice too. Jaxon Holland keeps his entire manly package nicely trimmed.

  Or, rather, he did…till I murdered him.

  Poor guy.

  I shake my head and try to look anywhere but there.

  Finally, I zone in on his face.

  Ah, that’s safe.

  Wow, he looks so peaceful. I feel so bad. I guess I’m not only going to prison, but to hell as well.

  Though prison will be hell, I’m sure.

  “Why didn’t you duck?” I cry out to the corpse.

  And that’s when the corpse’s mouth twitches.

  Wait, what?

  I breathe a huge sigh of relief. He’s not dead!

  “Yes, breathe again,” I urge.

  I watch as he swallows.

  Yay, no prison for me…and no hell either. Phew!