Playing To Win: The Complete King Brothers Collection (A Contemporary Romance Box Set)

by Teagan Kade

  More out of habit than any kind of malice, I drop and drive into her side, checking her hard into the glass. She’s lighter than I expect, probably goes a full four feet in the air, skimming the top of the glass, spinning once, before crashing to the ice.

  I pull up and see her sprawled there unmoving.

  Shit.

  I pull off my helmet and dump my stick, come to my knees and slide to a stop beside her.

  Her eyes are closed. She looks unconscious.

  I slap her cheek. “Linnea. Linnea. You good?”

  Fuck. I took it too far.

  “Linnea!”

  Her eyes open and a smile starts to spread across her face. There’s a spot of blood at the corner of her mouth. She licks it away. “That’s more like it.”

  I sit back shaking my head. “Holy shit. I thought I’d really fucked you up.”

  She groans and stands up, retrieving her stick. “It would take a lot more than that to put me down. We going to finish this?” she says, finding the puck and pulling it in, standing there in wait.

  “All right,” I reply, reaching for my own stick. “But don’t expect me to go easy. This win is mine.”

  She looks over my shoulder to the front doors. “I thought those guys weren’t supposed to be in until nine?”

  I look back but can’t see anyone. “What guys?”

  When I turn back, she’s already burning off down the ice. “Later, sucker!” she calls.

  I can’t help laughing, storming after her, just about to catch her before she quite masterfully shovels in her fifth goal, holding her stick up and hollering. “Wooooo! Linnea Marsden takes the Stanley Cup! Hoorah!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I laugh, pulling up beside her.

  “What do I win?” she asks.

  I press my tongue into my cheek. “What would you like, Your Majesty?”

  She sniffs. “Why don’t we hit the showers. We smell like a couple of sewer rats in this get-up.”

  It’s not a terrible idea. “Follow me.”

  We skate back to the edge of the rink, walking back to the men’s locker room and stripping off our gear. I check the clock on the wall, but we’ve still got fifteen minutes or so before this place is full of eager-beaver reserves.

  Linnea’s got her jersey and gloves off, struggling to get her skates free.

  “I like the way your face squishes together when you’re concentrating,” I tell her. “It’s cute.”

  She pulls at the laces. “I don’t know why you guys have to wear all this crap, and these pants… They’re like something from a nineties music video.”

  She’s not wrong.

  I take out my cup, placing it into my locker beside Linnea’s clothes and shoes. I couldn’t leave them just lying around for anyone to discover.

  “You were going easy on me, weren’t you?” she asks, taking off the last of her guards.

  “As a matter of fact, you were kicking my ass out there. Sure you don’t want to switch sports? The women’s team could use some muscle.”

  “I’m quite happy with basketball, don’t really like the whole hour ritual of getting ready for a game.”

  I stand there in my jocks. “I find it quite meditative, actually. Gives me time to reflect before a game.”

  She’s down to her bra on top, standing and turning around, slowly peeling her pants over her backside. “How about you reflect on this?”

  My cock grows hard at the sight. She’s wearing a thong, too, her perfect ass cheeks the ultimate invitation.

  “A thong, hey? I thought you didn’t go for the girly stuff?”

  She turns around in nothing but her underwear. “I thought I’d surprise you.” She reaches back and pulls the thong out of her ass. “Got to say, though, it ain’t the most comfortable of garments. Feels like I’m flossing my asshole every time I take a step.”

  I know I wanted to wait, but the need to have her has become too much. I can’t take it any longer. Fuck waiting. Fuck taking my time. I need her now.

  She sees the change in my expression as I stalk towards her. “Nolan?”

  “I’ve got to have you.”

  “When?” she laughs.

  “Now.”

  “Here?”

  ‘Where else?”

  “Bu—”

  My lips are on hers before she can get the word out.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LINNEA

  I break away breathless. We’re sweating, heaving. “How long do we have?”

  Nolan checks his watch. “Ten minutes.”

  I kiss him again, hands flat against the solid wall of his chest. My heart’s drumming hard and there’s a flicker of heat lighting up the insides of my thighs that’s close to scorching. We might only have ten minutes, but I’d rather a quickie than self-combustion.

  I push myself away from him, each ragged breath forced from my mouth in a harsh rush, breasts lifting and falling in time. I take off my bra, toss it into his locker with the rest of our stuff, and close the door.

  I turn and walk backwards until the cold flat of a locker presses against me. In quite a show of contortion, I lift my left leg and scissor my heel against the handle of a locker to the right. I reach down and hook the crotch of my thong aside, conscious of how wet I am already, the slick need building between my legs. “Better get to work.”

  Nolan comes against me hard, slamming me against the locker at my back, shuttling his lips to mine and his tongue going deep, an urgency there that’s almost scary. I haven’t seen this determination from him before, this hardline frenzy.

  But he’s needed elsewhere.

  I place my hands on the top of his head and firmly press him down.

  He complies, getting to his knees on the concrete floor and separating the delicate petals of my sex.

  I see the honey-coated look in his eyes as he studies me, the way his abs open and accordion below. He looks like a man possessed.

  Hungry.

  There’s a split second where time hangs before he’s against me. I pull in a choppy breath as his tongue parts the tender lips of my pussy, darting into the hot space beyond. He works shallow and fast, fucking me with his mouth, using every texture and angle at his disposal.

  I keep one hand on the top of his head, rocking myself against his face. The other slaps against the locker beside me, the sound loud enough to echo off the walls.

  I know the reserves won’t be here for another ten minutes, but there’s a naughty thrill in possibly getting caught I can’t help but keep at the back of my mind. The thought of somebody stumbling in and seeing this—me splayed, naked, against the lockers, Nolan lapping at my pussy like a hungry dog—is nothing short of delicious.

  I’ve never done anything like this before; not in public, but Nolan has that effect on me—makes me want to do things I never dreamed of.

  I take the hand off the lockers and hold a breast high. It’s plump in my hand, my nipple swollen and dusty pink against the center of my palm. Heat and energy pulse between my erogenous zones, Nolan concentrating on my clit but the thong becoming a distraction as he tries to hold the crotch away.

  “Take it off,” I tell him, speaking in broken syllables, wanting nothing more to be completely bare before him, at his mercy.

  He tries to tug the thong away, but my leg is still lifted. It’s not working.

  He pulls but still it won’t go, stretched out tight around my thigh. He gives up and reaches up with two hands, a single grunt as the crotch is torn in two. He tosses what’s left to the floor and resumes lapping at my clit.

  “God,” I breathe out, emptying my lungs but feeling my chest fill with something new, something terrifying.

  He’s getting greedy below, sucking at my lips, sliding two fingers inside me and shoveling them into my core with little decorum until I’m a wet, molten mess at his lips.

  I grunt and writhe against him, crotch colliding with his chin as my breathing becomes labored and irregular. He’s created a tension inside me that�
�s becoming tighter and tighter with every brush of his tongue, a deep and connected urgency that’s close to cataclysmic.

  I don’t care if I’m hurting him, could well snap his neck I’m bucking so hard, but the need is too much.

  I almost claw his head off when he pulls away, rising and smiling at me.

  I give an agonized gasp. “What are you doing?”

  He wipes his mouth, pausing to suck one of the fingers that was inside me clean. He takes hold of his cock and places it against me, a new flurry of fireworks following that tells me yes, I want his cock, and I want it now.

  He takes my leg under the thigh, holding me there while he slowly eases upwards into my depths.

  I clamp around him and cry out, the early signs of orgasm already present at the comforting fill of his hardness.

  Hand on my side, the other holding my leg high, he angles upwards, driving deeper and forcing a hiss from my lips.

  My other senses start to fill in—the stale, tepid air of the locker room enveloping us, the micro-burn of his body against mine, a pipe hammering somewhere overhead, the buzz of the fluorescents… It all meets there in my mind as he takes me.

  I claw at his back, holding him tightly in place while he fills me over and over with the full length of his cock. He plunges deep inside me, burying himself there until he’s forced to pull in air through is teeth, struggling against my shoulder.

  I run my hand up his back, between the two angled blades there, and can’t do anything more but remain still, sandwiched between the steel of the locker and the slab of his body, my buttocks squeezing together every time he enters me.

  He’s close. I know because I feel the transfer of tension, the way the corded muscle against me swells and tightens.

  He reaches down and takes my other leg, lifting me completely off the ground and walking us slowly towards the showers.

  I kiss him, do not care about the aftertaste of my sex on his lips, do not care that my full weight is against him. He carries me with ease, my ankles clapping together at the small of his back, my arms locked around his neck.

  He slams me against the cool tiles of the shower wall and slaps at the tap, icy water blasting over us.

  My mouth goes wide. My body constricts, squeezing his cock as though a vice. He grunts and resumes fucking me, my back sliding up and down the tiles, his hands moving to my ass, cradling me there while the water turns from cold to warm and then blissfully hot.

  My senses were already in overload, but this takes things to a whole new level.

  I look into his eyes and see far more than a sexual partner but a true soulmate, that one person who comes along once in a lifetime and knows you better than you know yourself, who in this moment isn’t just making love to you, but becoming part of you.

  I mew and grunt, unable to speak as he hammers against me.

  I let my head fall against his shoulder and squeeze tight against him. The familiar pang of pre-climax starts to flood my system.

  It takes everything I have to tell him I’m close, to put those simple words together at his ear.

  He hears them, responds by driving me higher against the wall.

  My head drops back, water streaming over my face. My hair becomes a slick eel against my back as he pulls me away from the tiles, holding me there in mid-air. A low dirge starts from his lips, a battle-cry.

  I hold on, answer by gyrating against him, up and down, again and again as he takes me.

  This climax is different. There’s implosion and explosion, something forced from me but also dragged inwards. My mouth stretches so wide my jaw hurts, fingers so deep in his skin they might well draw blood. I kick out with my legs but still he holds me firm, fucking me through convulsion after convulsion, steadfast and resolute.

  Everything is engorged and swollen, beating in time with the pulsing rush of orgasm.

  Dimly, I notice Nolan reach to turn off the shower, helping me back to my feet even though the ground itself feels non-existent.

  I didn’t feel him cum, don’t know why he’s stopping but it’s lost.

  I’m still stuck in this limbo of ecstasy when I see the look of horror on his face.

  “Did you hear that?” he asks, looking back to the locker room. “Someone’s coming.”

  I’m dizzy, the shock of his words forcing me to jerk forwards. It’s like I can’t control my own body.

  I hear it now too, voices, growing louder.

  He takes my arm and tugs me away from the showers, pressing me against the wall that divides the locker room from the shower room. He looks around the corner and back, holding me there. “Stay as quiet as you can.”

  “Collins, you fucker!” comes a male voice. “What happened to you last night? Don’t we think we didn’t see you eyeing that new girl, what was her name?”

  “Cleo, Connie? Fuck if I know,” Collins responds. “Had a pussy like a pan pipe, though.”

  There’s laughter, others entering the locker room.

  Holy shit, it’s the reserves, I realize.

  Either they’re early or we were going longer than I thought. And now we’re trapped. If any one of them comes into this area they’ll see us. All that separates us from them is this wall.

  Nolan’s trying to control his breathing, watching and holding me against the wall at the same time.

  “What do we do?” I whisper, still coming down from my orgasm, still tingling from head to toe.

  “Shh,” he whispers back, placing a finger to my lips.

  I mean, I wanted danger. I did not actually want to be caught.

  “The fuck?” says a voice.

  “One of you leave your thong behind?”

  Oh. My. God.

  My thong, or what was left of it.

  Nolan looks at me and I know panic when I see it.

  “Gregory, this yours?” someone asks.

  There’s laughter, squealing. They’re throwing it at each other.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” says someone else. “Get that thing away from me.”

  Another voice. “Seriously, what’s that doing in here?”

  “Eh, probably just some freshman fuckers breaking in, getting it on.”

  “Or Coach?”

  There’s serious laughter at that.

  “You smell that?”

  I tighten.

  They quiet down.

  “Yep, smells like fucking.”

  More laughter.

  I look down and notice Nolan’s still hard. Poor baby. He never got to come.

  An idea strikes me so naughty and downright diabolical I can’t believe I’m thinking it let alone actually getting down to my knees.

  He gives me a look of shock, mouthing ‘What are you doing?’ but he stops when I take him between my lips and drop my head over his cock.

  I taste myself on him, but it only turns me on more. The locker room banter continues in the other room while I bring up a hand, wrapping it around the full girth of his shaft and pumping it in time with the motion of my mouth.

  Lightly, he holds me in position, hips swinging to add more of his length between my lips. I open my throat and take him deeper, right until my lips butt up against my fingers, ringed around the root of him.

  That’s enough. He stiffens and I draw my mouth away, jerking him off against my breasts.

  He gives a stunted grunt and shoots. I direct his cock to each breast, allow them equal coverage while he jerks and convulses. His teeth are tight together, face red and pained, the sense of relief that follows almost amusing.

  His hips jerk once more and the last of him spills down the center of my chest.

  I keep pumping him lightly, feel him slowly soften in my hand. With the other I spread his release over myself, biting my lip and watching him all the while, knowing he may forget many things, but never this.

  It takes another five tense minutes for the reserves to gear up and head out.

  Nolan checks around the corner. “We’re good.”

  I stand an
d kiss him, let his cock drop from my hand. “Are we?”

  I’ve never showered or dressed so fast in my life, the two of us acting like a couple of ninjas, crawling our way out of the locker room and then sprinting for the front doors hand in hand, those poor reserves none the wiser as we head off laughing.

  *

  I’m still thinking about it the following day.

  Studying isn’t my strong suit, but I’m more distracted than usual in class. I’d like to say it was the impending doom that is my father, but my thoughts center far more on Nolan. Finally, he’s given in…and what a release it was. All that stringing me along, all that anticipation heightened things to a level hitherto unknown.

  Maybe he was right. I did enjoy getting to know him, even without the sex. It probably made the sex better.

  The urge to have him again blocks out all else, everything just static while I consider the many ways I’ll please him tonight.

  I make my way across campus and start across the field heading to the basketball arena.

  I’m about to make my way across the road when a black SUV pulls up to the curb, blocking my path.

  The doors pop open and three suited individuals emerge. I’m familiar with the song and dance by now. It’s obvious what this is, but I manage to suppress my panic and stand firm. After all, there are people around—in the distance, yes, but people all the same.

  One goon moves behind me, checking left and right, the two others before me, one older and one younger.

  The older one stands aside, holding the back door of the SUV open. “You need to come with us.”

  I unsling my bag off my shoulder and let it drop to the ground dramatically. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  There’s a shared look between the three of them. I don’t know if they expected resistance. What am I thinking? They probably get off it.

  “You need to come with us,” the older one repeats, slower.

  “I’m not fucking deaf,” I tell him. “And I’m not coming with you, so move that gangster mobile you’ve got there and I’ll be on my way.”

  The goon’s jaw sets. He’s ready to step this up, but the younger one comes forward instead with his hands open. “Look,” he begins, taking off his sunglasses. “We’re here to make sure you get to a meeting with a wedding planner. That’s all. We don’t want trouble.”