Cross Drop

by Elizabeth Hartey

  Cross Drop

  On The Edge~Book two

  By Elizabeth Hartey

  Cross Drop

  Copyright © 2018 by Elizabeth Hartey.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: June 2018

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-378-8

  ISBN-10: 1-64034-378-4

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For my husband. My very own alpha hero who has loved me unconditionally all these years.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Epilogue I

  Epilogue II

  cross drop

  /krôs/ /dräp/

  Noun

  When a player pushes or drops the puck behind him across the ice and continues skating on without it.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dalt

  “I might have to nutmeg one of those fine young soccer ladies tonight,” Wolfe snorts into his beer.

  “Keep your eyes off Nikki and your dick off her teammates,” I warn my hockey brother.

  “Pfft. No worries. Any one of those fine young ladies would kick Wolfe in his nutmegs if he tried anything,” Dak taunts.

  “Andersen, my man, you underestimate my talents,” Wolfe says smugly and pats Dak on the back.

  “Talents?” Batt sprays his mouthful of beer in laughter. “Is that what we’re calling your ho-ish charms these days?”

  “Who you calling a ho, dick brains?”

  “You. You’re a fuckin’ pig.” Batt laughs again.

  Wolfe’s brow creases in thought before his face relaxes into a wry smile. “I proudly accept your assessment, bro.” He raises his glass in a toast and Batt clinks his against it.

  “‘Accept your assessment.’” Dalt chuckles and shakes his head. “Wolfe, my man, you’re an enigma wrapped in a slut.”

  “An enigmatic slut!” Wolfe shouts. “I thank you for the compliment, oh captain my captain.” He bends at the waist, bowing to Dak, and in the process spills half the beer in his glass.

  The degenerates—aka, my hockey teammates—and I are having our own party at a separate table from Nikki and her friends, although the party celebrating our win over Brown today is somewhat tamer. My boys are drinking beer instead of shots. They insist on filling a mug for me to toast the winning goal I scored in overtime. But I’m sticking to water and electing myself the designated driver for me and Nik tonight.

  “Seriously, though. The soccer ladies are really gettin’ their party on tonight.” Wolfe flicks his chin toward the table where Nikki and her teammates are celebrating the big win they had over New Hampshire today.

  “I know. Nik was on fire. She scored three goals in the first half of their game and one in the second.” A contented smile crosses my face at the sight of my beautiful girl having such a great time. The way she works her ass off in school and leading her team as captain, she deserves a night out to let loose.

  “Yay, Nik!” Batt hollers to her, raising his beer mug in a cheer.

  Nikki waves, raises a shot glass, then tips it back, emptying its contents with one swallow. The pyramid of empty shot glasses on the table in front of her and her teammates is evidence of the slightly excessive but well-earned celebration.

  The adrenaline rush from the game and the enjoyment of seeing Nikki laugh and have fun is all the festivity I need. Just watching her makes me happy. Her joy for living, even when she hasn’t overindulged in too many shots of Red-Headed Sluts, is contagious. If it’s possible for someone to seep under your skin and infect you with happiness, Nik has me chronically afflicted.

  She glances over every few minutes and waves or blows me kisses. I nod and smile back. No airborne kisses, though. I’m sure as hell not going to let the asshats at my table see me blowing kisses to a girl. Even if she is the most incredible girl on the planet.

  Don’t get me wrong, these guys are my brothers for life and if I needed anything they’d have my back faster than a slapped puck shoots across slick ice. That doesn’t mean they’re not always on the lookout for ammunition to bust each other’s balls.

  Like the time Wolfe was sitting next to me in our Public Speaking class. He caught me grinning and staring all dreamy-eyed at Nikki when she was giving a speech. He leaned over and whispered, “Yo, dude. You growin’ a vagina over there?”

  Imagine what would happen if they caught me catching and blowing kisses across a bar like some lovesick teenager. The never-ending rank-out which would ensue has me cringing just thinking about it. No thanks. I like my balls just the way they are. Besides, Nik knows how I feel about her. I don’t need to make a public display or spout romantic sentiments. I show her how I feel whenever we’re alone. When I’m done showing her, she gets the message loud and clear.

  “Holy shit. Looks like Nik’s on fire tonight too!” Wolfe yells across the table.

  Here’s the problem. Well, not exactly a problem, more like a dilemma: an I’m-one-lucky-sonovabitch versus sometimes-I-wish-I-wasn’t-quite-so-lucky, dilemma. Nik is every guy’s fantasy come to life. She can keep up with the guys at everything. At sports? A champion at everything she tries. Soccer? She moves the ball with such speed and accuracy, she makes any guy playing against her resemble a statue. Talking teams? She can rattle off players and team stats faster than Howard Cosell ever could. She can match any guy beer for beer and then some. But even with all her badassery at keeping up with the boys, she’s a goddess of womanhood, with an angel face, and a body built to bring men to their knees. Full tits, round ass, lean muscle, platinum blonde hair down to her waist. Yup. Every man’s fantasy, and there isn’t one guy in this bar right now whose dick isn’t pointing right at her. The fact her exuberance has escalated to a this-may-be-something- she’ll-regret-in-the-morning level isn’t helping to keep the drooling dirtbags away from her.

  She’s on top of one of the tables at the Thirsty Whale Pub, dancing and singing “We Could Be Heroes” at the top of her lungs. Which isn’t bad—Nik’s hot when she sings and dances. Except the way she’s obviously feeling the shots has things a little too torrid. Her micro-mini skirt
is flashing glimpses of her lacy purple thong and tight, apple bottom cheeks to everyone in the bar as she sways. The only way I’d be enjoying this level of heated happiness is if she were doing it solely for me on top of my table at home.

  “Nik’s got a fine ass, dude. Now I see why you’re so fucked when it comes to this chick.” Wolfe continues his astute commentary as he leers at Nikki.

  “What the fuck are you doing eyeing my girl’s ass, dickhead?”

  “It’s kinda hard to miss, man. I mean look at her. She’s rockin’ that thang. Am I right, guys?”

  The other guys at the table don’t say a word. Instead, they all fidget uncomfortably in their chairs, trying their best to look anywhere but at Nikki. Every guy may want her, but a fellow hockey bro knows better than to ogle another bro’s girl. Batt’s right about one thing. Wolfe, our goalie, is also our resident pig. No filter. No restraint.

  By the sound of the loud whistling in the bar, I think it’s time to break up the party before I have to break up some guy’s face. I especially don’t want to have to break Wolfe’s face since he’s one of my roommates and also one of my best friends. Besides, he’s a good goalie. The team needs him.

  Still, that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about him ogling Nik. “Look away, asshole, or the only puck you’re going to be stopping is the one I shove up your ass.”

  “Geez.” He places his hand over his heart pretending to be wounded. “I was just trying to give you a compliment on your lady’s fine—”

  I shove him out of the way. Making my way to the table where Nik is doing her burlesque routine, I reach up to take her hand to help her down.

  “Let’s go, sweetheart. I think it’s time to get you home to bed.” She bends over and gives me her pearly white ear to ear smile.

  “Can’t hear you, hockey boy,” she sings to me in the tune of the song, while continuing to sway her hips, “music’s too loud.” When she leans toward me the whistling in the room gets louder.

  I cup the hand not holding hers around one side of my mouth and yell, “I said I think it’s time to get you home to bed!”

  “Ooo, yay. Bed! I’m cooomming, oh mighty sex god,” she continues singing, but adds a prolonged moan to the word “coming.” Then she winks and jumps off the table into my arms.

  Jesus. Oh mighty sex god?

  See what I mean? She has a joyful spontaneity, always the first to take a running jump off the rock diving cliffs of life, or tabletops in bars. Maybe the party should have ended five shots ago.

  The room is too crowded to carry her to the door. I have to put her down. She’s a little wobbly. I keep my arm around her waist to be on the safe side. As I steer her toward the door, I’m hailed with an outburst of loud boos and hisses from a table full of douchebag football players. When I glance over and answer their jeers with a dagger-dripping looks-might-not-be-able-to-kill-but-I-can-glare they get the message and shut the fuck up. Nik, oblivious to my telepathic interaction, dances and sings her way out while the rest of the students in the bar clap and cheer her exiting performance.

  Tucking her into the passenger side of my car, I make sure she’s all buckled in and secure before I go around and get into the driver’s seat. Almost before I’m in the seat Nik is out of her seatbelt, climbing into my lap, one knee on either side of my hips, begging me, “Please, Dalt. Now please. I need you now. Please.”

  See what I mean? Every guy’s fantasy.

  My life hasn’t been perfect, but I have had some great days: the first day I put on a pair of hockey skates, the day I got a full ride to Bernard University to play the greatest sport on the planet. And the best day? The day I laid eyes on Nikki for the first time. Now my girl is straddled across my hips begging me to fuck her. Can life can any better than this?

  Her hot girl skirt hiked up on her thighs, she’s grinding down on me and kissing me, pleading with me to fuck her. It’s blissful torture.

  “I want you, Dalt. Right now. Right now, please. I’m so hot for you. I need you inside me.”

  “Wait, Nik, honey.” I chuckle and moan at the same time, trying to keep her overactive fingers from roaming to places which are adamantly protesting the idea of stopping her.

  “Nooo. Come on, Dalt. I can’t wait.”

  Damn. She’s like a female Bruce Lee, fast hands moving everywhere at once. She fumbles with the button of my jeans.

  “Nik, sweetheart,” I smile. When my button pops open, I place my hand over hers to stop her from tugging down my zipper. I need to slow her roll for her sake and my cock’s. He’s pushing with rigid determination against that zipper and in imminent danger of getting snagged.

  “Come on, hockey boy. Need to nail your big, hard love hammer,” she purrs into my ear.

  “My love hammer?” I have to smile. She’s so damn cute. But I’ve never seen her like this. Like I said, she has a pretty high tolerance for alcohol, at least for beer. She may have met her match with the multiple shots of Jägermeister. I’m sure anyone with a functioning metabolism would have.

  “Mmm. He wants me. I can tell,” she coos, stroking her hand down my jean-covered shaft, sending my hormones into overdrive.

  “Fuck, Nik”

  “‘Zactly what I had in mind”

  Normally, there’s no way I’d have sex with a girl who’s feeling her alcohol like this. I’m a hockey player, not an asshole. But Nik and I have been together for months and our hot and heavy addiction to each other is nothing new. Needless to say, my love hammer is ready to do some nailing of his own to give my eager girl what she needs and no amount of advice from me is going to calm him down. Neither one of us can ever say no to this girl.

  When I run my hand under her skirt and feel how wet her sliver of a thong is, I can’t get my jeans unzipped fast enough, while taking care not to damage anything. As soon as I do, Nik reaches down between us, wraps her hand around me, and places my hard as fuck cock right where she wants it.

  She has me so crazy out of my mind I might come in her hand. Trust me when I say stamina has never been a problem for me before. Before Nikki, that is. She gets me racing in ways I didn’t even know there were roads.

  I rip her thong off and she lifts up and drops back down on me with a quick, hard push. Then she lets out a loud groan of pleasure, loud enough it’s a good thing there’s no one else in the parking lot.

  She keeps moaning and pulling up and pushing back down on me. Doesn’t say a word; just makes the sexiest ahhs and mmms I’ve ever heard. Every tight clench around me when she pushes down sends more blood rushing to my cock, making it demand a release. I focus on holding back, fighting to hold on a little longer, making sure I give her what she needs first. Doesn’t take long. Her legs begin to tremble and clamp around my hips. All I can hear as her warm pussy convulses around me and I explode into her is, “Ah, ah, mmm, yes, yes, yes!”

  Nope. Life definitely doesn’t get any better than this. I hate to admit it, but sometimes the idiotic things which come out of Wolfe’s mouth are right. I’m totally fucked when it comes to this girl.

  To be honest, I’ve enjoyed more than my fair share of fangirl honeys. It’s the same old story of being one of those popular hockey jocks on campus who can pretty much have any girl he wants anytime he wants and has a reputation for taking advantage of the gratuity. I’m not bragging, that’s just the way it is for me and my teammates. All good guys, just not relationship material, and none of the guys are shy about letting it be known. They make it clear what’s happening before hooking up with a chick. I’ll admit I’ve done my best to enjoy the perks of the long line of enthusiastic puck bunnies who have been on the same page of the ‘no monogamy’ clause in our policy.

  Nik’s changed it all for me. It’s the craziest damn thing. I wasn’t looking for it and never thought I wanted to feel any of this for one girl, but I’m not interested in any of the ready and willing fangirls anymore. Nik is the only one I want, every day, every night, all night, to the point of distraction. Like I said, blis
sful torture.

  To add to the fantasy, Nikki brings her spontaneity into bed or…at the moment, car. She approaches fucking with the same gusto she approaches everything in life, with natural enjoyment. She isn’t one of those chicks who wants to get down and dirty as much as any guy but thinks she has to pretend to be all timid and standoffish about it. Pretentious bullshit isn’t for me. Nik knows what she wants and she’s not shy about letting me know. Tonight, though? Tonight, she’s even more spontaneous than usual.

  We shattered together in mind blowing ecstasy, but she’s still clenching around me working my cock, moaning my name. She’s got me hard as iron and ready for round two.

  “Mmm. Dalt. I want more,” she pleads, planting kisses all over my face.

  “Nik, honey.” I’m smiling so wide my face hurts.

  “Hmm?”

  “How ‘bout we wait ‘til we get home? I can give you anything you want on a nice comfortable bed. Doesn’t that sound good?”

  “Anything?”

  “Everything.”

  “‘Kay. Let’s go.” Just like that she plucks herself off me and climbs back into her seat. I tuck my disgruntled cock away and reach over to pull her seatbelt across her, buckling her in once more.

  “You good over there?”

  “I’d be better over there,” she says in a flippant tone. I’m sure she’ll be down for the count by the time we get home. Or maybe not.

  When I turn the ignition key, the radio blasts Charlie Puth’s “Let’s Marvin Gaye and Get It On” and Nik joins in with her own level of slightly off key singing. When she flails her arms around as she rocks to the beat, I narrowly miss getting punched in the face.

  Oh boy. It’s going to be a long night.

  ***

  Nikki

  “Are we there yet? What’s takin’ so long.”

  Geez. Why is he driving so slow?