by Hilary Storm
And if that’s the case— so be it. I’m still proud of myself; for taking a chance, a bold, brave shot at what I want.
“I’m sorry your cat died.”
That’s what he says to shatter the silence.
My head snaps to the left in utter bafflement, and of its own spontaneous shock, full-body laughter bursts out of me.
“What? I am sorry. I can tell you really loved your cat and losing it broke your sweet little heart. That breaks my heart for you.” He reaches over and blindly finds my hand, giving it a squeeze.
I catch my breath enough to reply, “It did, yes, and thank you, but… I wasn’t expecting that to be the part to catch your attention. Thought maybe it’d be my blatant proposition that snagged it first.”
“Oh, it did, and that’ll be happening, repeatedly, as soon as we get to my house. But offering my condolences seemed like the least I could do, considering.”
“Considering what?”
He waits until we’re caught at a red light to look over at me, sporting a disarming grin, and answers. “Gracie, if I’m not into you enough to feel bad that you lost your little kitty buddy, then I’ve got no right to do to you all the things I’m about to.”
He winks… and drives.
Chapter Six
Brewer
“This is your house?” she gasps as we pull into the driveway.
“This is it. Home.”
“Why? Do you have twenty-five kids you failed to mention?”
“No kids, never been married,” I chuckle, climbing out and walking around the truck to open the door.
And the second I do, she continues, “Did you rescue and re-home the refugees of a small country?” She’s staring at my house, speaking as if dazed, so I undo the seatbelt, lift her sexy little body up and out, and set her feet on the ground for her.
“Nope, just me,” I answer… and feel my brows rise in confusion when she turns a scathing gaze on me.
“Ridiculous,” she tsks, shaking her head. “And very disappointing.”
“Do you know a lot of people who’ve rescued those from small countries? I don’t know any; didn’t realize it was common.”
“Funny,” she grits at my dry humor. “I just… why do you need a house this big if you’re the only one who lives here? Are you overcompensating for something, or simply showing off?” My head lolls back as I belt out howling laughter, but I feel the weight of her glare. “I wasn’t kidding, Brewer. This country’s in financial crisis, yet somehow, plenty of people, with plenty of money, find the funds to ensure male athletes are paid exorbitant amounts of money to throw, dunk, or putt a ball… or slap a puck.”
I can’t argue; she’s absolutely right. And I love that she’s intelligent, passionate, and not afraid to speak both. “I can’t change the whole country’s mindset, Gracie, and I’m certainly not going to refuse the salary I was offered; even if it is, I agree, ludicrous. All I can do is give back, pay it forward.”
“Yes, you can, and should.”
“Again, I agree, and do.”
“Oh yeah?” She juts up her chin, squaring her stance and shoulders. Precious. “How? And how often?”
There’s another chuckle I can’t capture. She’s a bold little thing. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she asks me to get my manager on the phone to verify what I say next—and I’ll gladly do so. Not to impress her… I need her respect. “Well, let’s see.” I rub the back of my neck, suddenly a bit embarrassed. “I had a rec center built downtown so the inner-city kids would have a safe place where they can learn how to play sports, certain trades, choose from lots of activities that might help keep them out of trouble, and I fund it, every month. And the whole team follows an unspoken rule that we take care of the women and children’s shelter. Every player, in rotation, takes a month and pays for supplies, fixes stuff, paints, does whatever they need done. Plus-”
“Catch me,” she purrs, launching herself at me, and I easily lift her up by the hips and haul her against me. “Altruism is so sexy,” she puffs before smashing her mouth to mine.
Remind me to sponsor a whole fucking planet.
Damn. When Gracie Bolton sets out to kiss a man, she kisses the hell out of that man. Her legs are wrapped around my waist, fingers clawing at my hair, and ripe-apple ass in my hold as our mouths, tongues, choppy breaths and eager hands get to know each other. Well. She’s wiggling, moaning, trying to climb me—seeking more—every gyration against my dick tempting me to take her right here.
I’ve fucked in bathroom stalls, a dark corner in more than a few clubs, locker rooms that reeked of sweaty balls, and once in the back of a cab. But for reasons I’d probably never understand, should I try to—I want things with Gracie to be… intimate? Yeah… that’s the right word… I just can’t believe it’s the right word. I don’t do intimate.
Maybe it’s the chase that’s got me all fucked up in the head. She didn’t serve herself up on a puck-bunny platter; instead, making me hunt her down. Or it could be our unique prelude—can’t say I’ve ever stopped, on the ice, to play a sexy game of charades before. Never sent a note to a fan, or received one back, before either.
And now that I’ve gotten a few glimpses into who she is and what she’s about, it’s only luring me in more. No chick has ever complained that I have too much money and argued that I should give it away. And although Gracie’s the first woman I’ve ever brought to my house, I’m pretty sure she’s also the only one who’d insinuate it’s ostentatious.
Whatever the reason, likely them all, I force my mouth to release hers and lean back to catch her eyes. “How about we go inside?” I grin, taken completely aback by her—swollen, pouty lips, flushed cheeks, mussed hair the color of sunset—but most of all, the passion blazing in her eyes.
She wants me.
Me.
Brewer Hayes, the man, the person. Not the captain of an NHL team. Not in public, where everyone can see her on my arm. Not beside me, in view of the cameras while I’m photographed or interviewed.
Just me. In the privacy of my home… that doesn’t impress her.
She bobs her head wildly, to make sure I hear her ‘yes,’ too out-of-breath for a vocal reply, and my grin stretches wider as I walk us toward the door.
I readjust her in my arms so I can dig out my keys, and she stops running her tongue along my neck to giggle. “What, no butler to let us in? What about Alexis? Surely, she’s streaming through your whole h-, mansion; just scream at her to unlock the door.”
“Only woman in this house is you,” I growl, swatting her ass.
No sooner than I get us inside, by using a key, all by myself, she wriggles to be put down. Here we go… now she’ll want to see everything… ask for the “grand tour,” gasping and fawning the whole time. I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.
With a hefty sigh, I toss my keys on the counter and move to take her hand. Guess I’ll start by showing her the backyard; the main reason I bought this place. There’s a giant pool, complete with a rock waterfall, hidden coves, and a hot tub. Plus, the kickass landscaping, hammock, cabana, gazebo, and spectacular view help me escape, as if I’m on my own private island, anytime I have time to come back here. Yeah, I won’t hold it against her if she ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ over the backyard. Other than on the ice, it’s my favorite place to be.
Turns out though, my worry’s nothing more than wasted time, and the “hunch” I’ve had since first laying eyes on her proves its validity once more; any and all doubt vanishing… for good. She wouldn’t notice, or care, if every wall in this place was painted neon green and there were disco balls dangling from the ceiling. She’s not looking at my house. Her eyes are trained solely on me.
I’m right about her, dammit.
Gracie Bolton is something, someone, special. Worth spending the time to explore, get to know… inside and out.
Chapter Seven
Brewer
A gulp visibly works its way down her throat while uncertaint
y flickers in those big brown eyes… but she only leaves her misgivings exposed for a split-second… quick to recover. Her sweet, plush lips start to curl at the corners, in invitation, and her gaze is now half-lidded, and beyond certain. “What’s, uh, next?”
“Come here, Gracie.” I emphasize with a slow curl of my finger.
“I am here.”
“If you were here enough, I wouldn’t have said it. Closer. Now.”
Well, well… she liked that; the assertiveness in my deep voice, telling me so with her tiny gasp and the freshly-stoked fire in her widened eyes. Not to mention, she immediately, without thought, takes the step needed for our bodies to touch.
“Arms up,” I order gruffly, my dick hardening as she once again, instantly, instinctually, complies. Eyes on hers, I pull her shirt up and off, tossing it aside, and dipping my head to get my first taste of her. Neck, shoulders, and cleavage, all delicious, I take off her bra, then drag myself away from my sampling to look. She’s gorgeous. Fucking flawless. Skin warmed by a slight blush, natural, ample-sized tits topped with small, rosy nipples, a flat, toned stomach, and the most beautiful part of all… an understated innocence to her wicked allure… that’s reeling me in fast.
She whimpers softly, a shiver rippling through her whole body as she waits out my scrutiny. “Cold?” I tease, not waiting for the unneeded answer before again finding her flesh with my mouth, kissing my way lower.
She first jolts from the sensation, but just as quickly, relaxes into it, letting out a long, mewl. “Ohhh,” she purrs aloud as I learn her chest — hands perfectly filled with her perky rack — sharing my mouth between both budded nipples. “Brewer,” she begs my name in the sexiest damn rasp I’ve ever heard, prompting me to suck harder and lick faster until her hands leave my hair and the peel of a zipper echoes through the room.
Oh, hell no. With a quick snag of her eager hands, I stop that bullshit cold, forced to break suction on my mouthful of tit much sooner than I’d like. “Look at me.” Her honey-brown eyes slowly travel up to mine, lazy and glazed over with delirium. “I will be stripping you, my beauty. At my pace. I won’t be robbed of a single second with you. So when I let go of your hands, they best not touch your clothes. Not kidding, Gracie, not even a little.”
“Okay, whatever you say, just hurry,” she pants her impatience.
“I’ll do no such thing.” I wink, keen to the fact she likes it when I do, and release her hands… sliding my own down to the waistband of her jeans. Inching the denim off bit by bit, I follow the same path until I’m on my knees, contradicting my just-said words by rushing my way through this part — shoes, socks, and jeans flung… who the hell cares where — lace thong ripped clean off with one anxious yank.
“Damn,” I breathe.
The woman is a T. K. fucking O. — knocking you flat on your ass and making you like it — built to drive a man, this man, out-of-his-mind wild. Dainty and feminine in all the right places; curvy and womanly in the others… exactly what I like, where I like it… as though crafted by a guide of my mind’s blueprint.
Once my eyes have raked the length of her, several times, they plant and stick on the sweet spot between her thighs. She’s sensual and delicate, thinly veiled by a single strip of hair, wanting and so ready. Swollen, glistening wet… and stealing my control with the heady scent of her arousal.
“Grab something,” I rumble a warning, her shaky hands finding grip in my hair as I hoist one of her legs up and over my shoulder. Without further notice, hesitation, or permission, I use both hands to spread her pussy wide open, dragging a huge inhale of her intoxicating aroma before licking her from dripping core to throbbing clit.
“B, Br, uhhh, Brewer…” It’s one long, incoherent moan, a melodic sound, as exciting as her body curling toward me.
“Ask me, Gracie,” I command, warm and heavy on her sensitive flesh. “Ask me for what you want.”
“More,” she puffs.
“More what?” Easing one, then two, fingers inside her, a tortured groan rips out of me. She’s so fucking snug around my fingers, the mere thought of how damn tight she’ll wrap up my cock has me rock-hard and downright fuck hungry. “You want me to eat more of your sweet pussy? Eat you until you come? Get you nice and slick, relaxed, help you take me easier? Or do you need me inside you now? Maybe you want the sting of being stretched by my cock? Tell me, babe. Tell me what you want and it’s yours.”
“Uh huh, yes, that.” I chuckle at her breathless, senseless, precious reply as I withdraw my fingers, lower her leg, then stand.
“Open,” I grunt, her eyes bulging in shocked understanding as that pretty mouth obeys, lips parting to suck in my offered finger. “Fuck yes, Gracie baby,” rolls off my tongue in depravity, my eyes locked on the dance between her mouth and my digit. “You taste yourself, thick and sweet?”
Despite the embarrassment heating her cheeks, she nods… and sucks harder.
One by one, I’m gradually peeling back the layers of Gracie Bolton, making my way to the sexy center. I’m doubtless that beneath her “ladylike” exterior lies a vixen; a vixen I can’t wait to meet, expose, and explore.
Taking her hand in my free one, together, we rub the aching erection trapped inside my jeans. She hums, swirling her tongue along and around the finger still in her mouth, and squirms in anticipation.
“Okay, greedy girl,” I laugh. “Up the stairs, third door on the left. I’m gonna stand right here and watch your fine, bare ass while you walk away, but I won’t be far behind ya. And when I get there, I want to see you sprawled out on my bed, waiting for me, with your legs spread as far apart as they’ll go. Will you do that for me, Gracie?”
She bobs her head, then turns and starts walking the second I take back my finger. And though I’ve never cared to notice before — but when it comes to Gracie, won’t ever miss it — I watch with rapt interest, how each firm, phat cheek rises and falls with every step taken. Very nice. I want to chase her down and pounce, stare at that delectable ass jiggling for me as I pound into her from behind, but manage to resist… drudging up remarkable patience from places unknown. Giving her plenty of time to get settled, calm and comfortable, before pursuing her. But a man can only take so damn much, and soon, I’m on the prowl… only to be stopped mid-step and speechless when I catch first sight of her.
Fuuuck. Hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen — Gracie, stretched naked across my bed, legs bent up and back — on display for me. I move in closer, shins bumping against the railing, to take a really good look.
“You. Are. So. Fucking. Sexy, Gracelyn. I mean it, baby. You”— I gulp — “you’re a goddamn game changer.”
And there you have it, exactly what I just blurted like a pre-pubescent fool — shot, goal, game — the sappiest thoughts, let alone actual words, to ever emasculate my brain… put right out in the open.
Where she could fucking hear me.
Couldn’t be helped. Something about this woman has me wandering aimlessly into new territory… completely, willingly undone. And when I dare let my eyes veer up to find hers? The tender, warm affection therein, and the small, flattered smile on her angelic face makes my spontaneous, somewhat embarrassing, outburst worth it… and then some.
Oh, but I’m not done yet. Nope… before I even know it, I’m spouting off again. “Just so we’re clear, you’re mine now, Gracie. I’m keeping you. As long as you’re here in Lake City, you’re here with me.”
She’ll probably fight me on that particular demand later, perhaps even try to escape (which won’t work for her), but for now, she’s only worried with perching herself up on her elbows and slowing her breathing. Enough to say, in the cutest little whisper, “Brewer, please…”
The corner of my mouth twitches with primal pride, and as smokin’ fucking hot as it is to hear her beg, the patience I somehow conjured up is now running severely low. “Please what?”
“I’ll…”
“Not move another inch,” I growl, effectively freezing her in
place. “I’ll come to you.” I start to… Oh, for fuck’s sake, never mind — no dicking around with buttons if you just rip your shirt open. Everything else not a problem, I’m down to just my boxer briefs within seconds. I yank those motherfuckers off too and climb onto the bed, slowly moving up and over her until I’m braced on my knees, straddling her chest.
“Let me taste you,” she urges, breath choppy, my dick jerking in willing response.
Now poised on only one elbow, she takes me in her right hand, and I lower my gaze to watch as she licks her lips and lowers her head. All but out of reach to barely slide the tip of that heavenly tongue through my pre-cum, I can’t stop my faint laugh, and groan, at her tiny huff of frustration.
“Here, baby, I’ll help you, if you really want it?” My hand’s in gradual motion, giving her time to convince me before I reach the back of her head… to prop it up for her.
“I…” she pokes her tongue out again, straining to reach me, “can’t,” she groans, not the good kind, shaking my hand away to flop her head, and self, back down on the pillow. “Brewer?”
“Gracie?” I tease through an unkept laugh — she’s just so fascinatedly animated — and absolutely adorable.
“I haven’t given, um, fellatio, since… huh, I honestly can’t remember… but I’m positive, whenever it was, I wasn’t a double-jointed contortionist then, nor am I now. So, work with me? Please?”
Not in the habit of humor while my dick’s hard, out, and inches from a beautiful woman’s mouth, I’m surprised to hear myself I burst out in full-blown, from-the-gut laughter. So much so, my whole body’s shaking as I climb off her. “Ah, Gracie,” it’s still a tad chuckled — “you’re something, baby girl. Something… extraordinary.”
She smiles up at me, then rearranges herself onto her hands and knees, motioning for me to stand at the side of the bed. “Much better.” The authentic excitement is matched by a little shimmy of her perched-in-the-air ass.