WILD ZONE, A Rough Riders Hockey Novel

by Skye Jordan

  Her voice was compassionate but firm. Her gaze steady and serious. “So don’t think for a second you were a fluke or a second choice or consolation to me being stuck in the kitchen. I had you picked before I ever got pulled away. I’ll always choose to go home alone over going home with someone I’m not one-hundred and fifty percent into just to be with someone. I’m not a woman who needs a man. I’m not a woman who settles for anything but exactly what I want. I’m here because I want you, Tate, not because I couldn’t have someone else.”

  He felt something inside his chest melt. Felt his rough edges softening. Olivia never looked away. Never hedged. Never backpedaled.

  “You are something really special, Olivia. I know we just met, but…” He shook his head.

  Her hand relaxed on his chest, and she eased closer with an almost imperceptible nod of agreement. “But sometimes, you just know when you’ve found someone who clicks.”

  He lowered his lips to hers. Her tongue stroked his bottom lip, then dipped into his mouth and swirled lazily, sensually. But the heat rose and in seconds their sexy kiss had turned erotic and edgy again. The blood that had temporarily returned to his brain was back in Tate’s pants. And there was a new intimacy between them that fueled the need.

  Forcing himself to break the kiss, Tate had to clear his head with a shake to get the key into the lock. And with Olivia at his back, her hands all over him, Tate still struggled. The man with finesse and grace and lightning moves under pressure couldn’t keep his hands from shaking while a woman he barely knew grabbed his ass with one hand and groped his package with the other.

  By the time he pushed the door open he was hard and throbbing again. He grabbed Olivia’s wrist and pulled her hand off his cock, then had to take two full breaths before his vision cleared. When he focused, Olivia stood in front of him. She curled her hand into the front of his shirt and pulled him into the house.

  What Olivia had told Tate was true: she had never been indiscriminant in choosing lovers. Still, she’d been with a lot of men. She’d always had an open soul and enjoyed sharing the pleasures of sex with another open soul. And Europe was chalked full of open souls because Europeans were raised with an entirely different outlook on sex than Americans. Far more casual. Far more prevalent. Easy-come easy-go. No commitment.

  Her personal issues fit in well with that model. If she didn’t love, she couldn’t lose. If she didn’t trust, she couldn’t be betrayed. And her nomadic lifestyle kept everything in sync.

  Olivia was happy to hold onto her fluid, no-drama romances. She was proud of her sexual independence. Loved the way sex never interfered with her life or her goals. Was proud of the way she controlled when she allowed a man into her life and for how long, not the other way around.

  Now, she was allowing Tate into her life, and while she was doing her damnedest not to look desperate, when the door closed, and he didn’t slam her up against the wall and fuck her right there, she knew she had to take action.

  Olivia gripped the lapels of his blazer and pushed Tate back against the closed front door, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and lifted on her toes as she pulled his head down to bring their mouths together.

  His hands stroked down her sides, up her back, down her spine and finally—finally covered her ass—pulling her hips into his. His erection indented her lower belly and a surge of need washed her body. Olivia moaned, circling her arms back and around his neck.

  Tate’s hot breath bathed her skin on a similar sound. “Baby…” he said, breathing hard. “Can you tell me what you like? What you want? I’ll do anything…just tell me how you like it…”

  Olivia pushed back caught between frustration, anger and heartbreak. What the fuck had his ex done to turn a man so genuine into someone who didn’t even know who he was anymore? How had she turned a man, who—judging by his career—had once had such high self-confidence and self-esteem into someone who needed to be told how to please a woman?

  “What do you want, Tate?” she asked. “This isn’t just about me.” She stroked his face, slipped her hands down the front of his body quickly unfastened his belt and pants—for the second time tonight. Something she shouldn’t ever have to do. “I want whatever we find together as our perfect rhythm. I want the real Tate, when he’s not worried about what someone else will think or what he should or shouldn’t do. There are no judgments here, between you an me.” She snuck her fingers under the waistband of his boxer-briefs. “I want you to go after what you want, as hard as you want it.”

  To give him a nudge, she held his gaze and pushed her hand beneath the soft cotton of his briefs and took his thick cock into her palm. Tate’s eyes fluttered closed, his mouth dropped open on a sound of surprise and pleasure, and his head dropped back, hitting the door.

  Olivia would have laughed, but Tate wasn’t laughing. Tate didn’t even seem to notice. His handsome face was awash in pleasure. Intense pleasure. And, God, he was beautiful.

  With one hand wrapped around his forearm for balance, she dropped to crouch, and by the time she rolled to her knees, his eyes were open and disoriented. That worked for Olivia. He certainly didn’t need to be coherent for what she had planned.

  “Olivia…?”

  “Oh that voice.” She moved his clothes aside, stroked him and licked her lips. “I love the way you say my name.”

  One hand slid over her hair. “Oliv—”

  She took the head of his cock between her lips and the rest of her name came out of his mouth as a deep moan. His fingers closed in her hair and his body jerked. A thrill raced through Olivia. Her sex clenched.

  When she lifted her gaze, she found his eyes barely cracked, their dark color sparkling with fiery lust.

  She pulled him from her mouth, murmured, “I already feel you at the back of my throat”

  and plunged him deep.

  Tate’s body bowed against the door, pushing him even deeper. “Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

  His hand twisted in her hair and the sting sang across her scalp, giving her a dark thrill.. “Olivia…”

  He bent at the waist, put his mouth at her ear and closed his hands around her biceps. “So fuckin’ good… So fuckin’ good… Gotta—”

  Before he could say “stop” and use that brute strength of his to pull away, she added suction, and watched the big badass hockey player melt like butter.

  He felt beautiful in her mouth. Thick and hot and smooth. He tasted clean. Smelled spicy and musky and so very male. And the power of bringing a man like this to his knees—there was nothing like it.

  When he was almost out of her mouth, she gave the head of his cock a little extra attention until he was growling through his teeth, then pulled back, smiled up at him and said, “This is me, going after what I want, Tate.”

  And she refocused on the thick, meaty cock in her hand.

  Tate’s hands tightened on her arms and he hauled her to her feet. Just lifted her like she weighed nothing. Like it took no effort. Before her mind could comprehend what was happening, Tate pivoted, banged her against a wall and held her there at arms length. He lowered her head, breathing fast to catch his breath.

  “I don’t want to scare you…” he said, voice rough and raspy. “I don’t want to hurt you… And the way I want you is…” He shook his head and kept his eyes on the floor.

  Lust surged through Olivia. Lust deeper and darker than anything she’d experienced before. There were things about Tate that tugged at something inside her. Something desperate that she’d never looked too closely at before. In Tate, she almost sensed a kindred lost spirit looking for both connection and expression.

  She clenched her hands. “Show me. Show me how you want me. You don’t scare me and I won’t let you hurt me. And I want to taste that kind of passion, Tate.” Her voice was a rough, breathless whisper. “I want it bad.”

  “Fuck.” He bit out the word, lifted is head and picked her up nearly at the same time.

  Olivia grabbed his blazer for somethin
g to hang onto as he turned a corner, released her with one arm, and bent to make a wide sweeping motion. Lights from the gardens filtered in through big windows. She’d just figured out they were in room off the kitchen when Tate dropped her butt on a table, hooked both his arms beneath her knees and pulled them wide, allowing him to lower his head between her legs.

  “Tate—”

  His mouth covered her pussy, still dressed in white silk. The heat and pressure of his mouth made Olivia forget what she was going to say. His tongue wet the silk and teased her pussy beneath, while his hands worked the fabric over her hips, lowering her legs only to pull her panties off. Then he hooked both thighs again, hauled her to the edge of the table. And covered her with his mouth.

  The contact and heat made Olivia gasp. Then…he feasted. His entire mouth moved over her. Ate and licked and sucked. Olivia’s eyes crossed. She reached out and gripped the table edges. Her back arched, pelvis rocked, moans and disjointed words and pleas and curses rolled out of her mouth. He slammed her with so much sensation at once, Olivia couldn’t absorb it all. And while one alone would have brought her to climax within minutes—possibly seconds—everything together just teased her and teased her and teased her. And he never paused, never slowed, never waivered. Just kept eating and eating and eating like he’d never get his fill.

  “Ho-ho-holy fuck…” Everything between her knees and her shoulders was on fire, bulging, aching, on the edge of implosion. “Tate…God…Fuck…Please…”

  She reached down and fisted his hair. Tate met her eyes, his dark and drunk. He released her thigh, slid his hand down her arm, covered her hand and threaded their fingers. Then he held her gaze as he ruthlessly, mercilessly drove her straight over a cliff.

  “Oh my…” Her body seized with ecstasy. Back arched, head thrown back, her mind went completely blank, blissfully floating in euphoria for those few long moments while pleasure shook her to the core. Shivered through her limbs. Rocked her foundation. And left her weak and panting.

  Tate laid her thighs over his shoulders. “Fuck, baby, you blow my mind.”

  She blew his mind? Olivia rolled her head to look at him, but before her tired eyes could focus, sensation and pressure erupted between her legs again.

  “Ah… Oh…” She groaned as he slid a finger inside her slow and deep. Fuck that was so hot. She lifted into the pressure. “Mmmm, yeeeeees…”

  Then he moved inside her and whatever her he did made pleasure sing through her pussy and contracted the muscles around her spine. She arched and moaned. Tate added a finger, pushed deeper and fucked her with slow, steady strokes that made her eyes roll back in her head, made her toes curl, mouth water and her body writhe. And when she reached for him but found him too far away to grab, just watching her with those glimmering dark eyes, Olivia whimpered and reached overhead to grip the edge of the table for leverage to lift and rock into his mind bending rhythm.

  “God… Crazy fucking good…” Another orgasm tsunami slammed into her, the initial spike of pleasure so sharp, it drew a scream from her throat and wiped her mind completely clean.

  Panting, Olivia dropped her forearms over her eyes and let her body sink against the unforgiving table beneath her. “Oh mon Dieu…”

  Her body felt like it had been infused with champagne. Every cell buzzed and sizzled. Her muscles were spent. She couldn’t catch her breath. Olivia tried to get her mind to work, but it refused. She couldn’t begin to remember the last time she’d come so hard or in such quick succession or with nothing more than a man’s hand and mouth.

  Tate eased to his feet and Olivia couldn’t even gather the strength to sit up. He cupped her thighs behind her knees and rocked her side to side until her butt was at the edge of the table again.

  “Jesus Christ…” She really couldn’t offer much more. Truly, she was worthless right now. “Baby, you’re…gonna have to give me…a minute. You’ve…wipped out…a few million…brain cells…”

  His hand pressed against her belly, then slowly slid up her body, pausing over one breast to squeeze and mold.

  “Mmm…” She stroked his forearm.

  His hand skimmed her chest, fingertips grazed her jaw, then his hand slipped behind her neck—and took a possessive hold. One that sent tingles down her spine. “Your minute’s up.”

  His dark voice sounded close and forced Olivia’s eyes open. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  She obeyed, crossing her ankles at the small of his back to help her support weakened muscles. He eased toward her and the unmistakable pressure of the head of his cock pressed against her. A little sigh escaped her lips.

  With his eyes burning into hers, he tilted his pelvis, teasing her with the head of his cock. He dropped a kiss to her lips. “I put on a condom.” Kissed her again. “I can’t wait to feel you around me.”

  Before Olivia could respond, Tate’s hand tightened on the back of her neck and his hips lunged. His cock pushed deep inside her, steeling her breath as he stared into her eyes. He was already drawing out again before Olivia had fully filled her lungs. His next thrust was deeper.

  For a moment his stilled. His eyes rolled back and his eyes closed. “So fucking perfect.”

  Olivia reached up and stroked his face, gripped his biceps with her other hand. “You feel…” —she had to catch her breath— “so good…”

  He groaned, drew out, lowered his head and kissed her deeply on the next stroke. Her gasp broke the kiss, but it didn’t keep Tate from moving. And just like he had with his hands, he set a deliberate, methodical, relentless thrust into place. He pushed his free hand between her hips and the table, and added a punch to the thrust by pulling her into him at the end and banging her clit against his pelvis while his cock kept hammering the same spot inside her he’d found with his fingers.

  “Oh, God…”

  He hovered over her, his lips just above hers, his dark eyes owning her. He dropped a lick over her lips and Olivia opened to take him, but he lifted his head again, leaving her hungry. Her mouth was hungry. Her body was hungry. And something else. Something she couldn’t figure out.

  “Tate…Dieu…need to come…” She dropped her head back and closed her eyes.

  Tate’s fingers tightened on her neck and he shook her. Olivia gasped and opened her eyes again.

  “Look at me.” When she met his gaze his was intense and serious. “This is me, Olivia, going after what I want. All of you. All night.”

  A fist clenched her chest so hard, it stole her breath.

  He thrust deep and paused. Her body strained, on the edge of another wicked orgasm. “Do you understand?” he asked, deadly serious. “I want to own you. I need to fucking own you tonight, Olivia.”

  Her breath stuttered. And in that moment, looking into those dark, haunted eyes, his face shadowed in the dim light, she understood perfectly. For the first time in her life, she understood the intensity of two like people meeting and bonding. She understood the feeling of safety while being dominated. The comfort of being controlled. The pleasure of being completely taken.

  “Yes,” she told him. “Tonight. I’m yours.”

  Emotions she couldn’t quite read flashed though his eyes. They were there and gone so fast, swirling among so much passion, she couldn’t begin to guess what they had been. She only knew his thrusts came deeper, harder, and faster. His kisses grew more passionate. His expression darkened and sharpened.

  “Olivia…” he rasped, dropping his forehead to hers. “So wet. Come for me, Liv. I want to feel it. Feel it all around me.”

  She whimpered because her body responded immediately. The orgasm that seemed to be hovering over her crashed, shattering through her body, twisting her muscles, and pulling moans from her throat. Olivia clung to him while he continued to thrust and thrust and thrust. And just when the orgasmic haze started to clear, another built. Before she had time to catch her breath, she was crying, “N'arrete pas, n’arrete pas… Dieu…”

  And slam, she shot off into the stratosph
ere again. Tate came with her, his muscles hardening to granite beneath her hands, his guttural growls of release singing through her, heart, body and soul.

  Panting, limp, and brain dead, Olivia let her arm slide off his shoulders. Let her body melt against the table. Let her forearm fall across her eyes. And muttered, “C’ést incroyable.”

  Tate dropped his sweaty forehead to her shoulder and lowered to his forearms. Their heavy breathing filled the silence. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, but not really seeing it as she searched her mind for the source of the knot lingering in her chest. A vague tension that was both familiar, yet unidentifiable in the moment. Which was probably because Tate Donovan had just fucked the living stuffing out of her.

  She laughed. Turned her head away from Tate’s, lowered her forearm from her eyes to her mouth and laughed again.

  “What were you saying?” he asked.

  That wasn’t the question she expected. “When?”

  He lifted his head and looked at her. His face was relaxed, his eyes sparkling again, and a little smile tipped his beautiful mouth. “What do you mean, when?”

  She grinned and thought back. “Ummm… Hard to say. I sort of think in several languages now. Sometimes I don’t know which one’s in my head and which one’s coming out of my mouth. Can you sing a few bars for me?”

  He broke into laughter and laid his head against her shoulder again. She brought her hands to his head and her fingers to his hair. His laughter faded and he heaved a deep, satisfied sigh. Then tipped his head and pressed a kiss to her throat.

  “Holy shit, Liv…” he whispered against her skin. “That was…”

  “C’ést incroyable?”

  He lifted his head and the smile on his face, both happy and sweet, tightened her throat. “It sounds so much better when you say it.”

  He dropped a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, and joy ballooned inside of her. But as soon as she felt it, she knew what she’d feared moments ago. And right on cue, Tate pushed up on his hands. He was going to pull away and leave her body. The perfect distraction was over. Olivia now had to deal with reality.