Regency Romance: Duchess In Distress (Historical Billionaire Military Romance) (19th Century Victorian Romance)

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Regency Romance: Duchess In Distress (Historical Billionaire Military Romance) (19th Century Victorian Romance) Page 40

by Sarah Thorn


  The two teams flurried about, doing their best to attack the puck. Our star player was on the field, heading down the ice towards where Kathy and I sat, with the puck shuffling back and forth on his stick.

  For a brief moment, I could make out the baby blue in his eyes, and I felt his stare shooting at me. Everything fell away in the moment; the crowd cheered, but I was deaf to their tune, as though nothing else mattered.

  Then a rival player smashed him hard into the glass that I was sitting near. I held my hand to my mouth, feeling his pain shoot through my head.

  It didn’t seem to faze him much; he just turned my direction, smiled, blew a kiss and shuffled the puck from the corner.

  “I think he saw me,” Kathy said.

  I could see her already begin to swoon. More times than I could count I’d returned to the dorm room with a sock waiting for me on the door. It was the standard signal for me to get comfy at the local coffee shop until she told me it was all clear.

  I wouldn’t say that she slept with a lot of different people; she just liked to sleep with the same people very often. I would always do my best not to judge her choices, but honestly, none of the boys held much interest for me. Most of the men around here reminded me of home, and that bothered me to consider.

  In the small amount of time I watched, I witnessed two different fights on the ice. The referee would always back off for the briefest of seconds as the idiots would have a go at trading blows. I did my best to avoid giggling at their stupidity, but even so it was hard to suppress.

  “I hear they’re having a party after the game, we should go, it’s Friday, could be fun!”

  As she continued to talk I-having fulfilled my requisite time watching-returned to my book. She scoffed, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to finish the chapter before the game was over so I wouldn’t have to remember my place on the way home.

  “Okay, that’s it. You’re staying for the party. You need to get out and meet people,” she said.

  “Not interested,” I replied.

  “If you come, this time, I promise I won’t bother you for at least a month,” she suggested.

  The idea of being able to be left to myself was tempting, but definitely not enough.

  “How about, if I go, you won’t have sex in the dorm for a month,” I suggested in jest.

  “Deal,” she responded all too quickly.

  “I was just kidding, really. I don’t want to go,” I said.

  “Too bad, we have a deal.”

  I slumped into my chair, wishing I hadn’t said anything at all. Before long, the game time had elapsed, and our team ended up the victor. This party had all the sudden become a victory party, and I had an inkling of what that might entail.

  2.

  ‘Come to the party,’ she said, ‘we’ll have some fun,’ she said. Why do I always get stuck being the person she drags to these stupid things. I’d rather just be curled up at home, reading a book, and getting to sleep early.

  That’s what I get for having a roommate that can’t do anything by herself. She just has to pull me along, until she finds someone more interesting to talk to, and then she forgets about me.

  This would be the fourth party in recent memory that this has happened. I watched her from afar, chatting with a couple of boys, whom I’m sure she had every interest in sleeping with tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  They held the party at the now empty ice rink where our local hockey team had just won. I wasn’t much of a hockey fan. When I was a little kid, my dad would have the games on in the den, sitting beer in hand, while shouting excitedly at the T.V. I never minded curling up nearby while he watched, I’d just read a book and forget what silly things the boys said at school.

  I still remember when he got me into skating; he wanted a son more than a daughter, but he did the best with what he had. He tried getting me into hockey; its popularity never waned through all of elementary school. Instead of getting into that sport, I found myself oddly taken by figure skating.

  He rolled his eyes at the idea, but never once said a bad thing about it whenever he’d take me to practice. I miss him, even though we never really saw eye to eye.

  I had a feeling I might be roped into an after party, Kathy always knew how to pry me out of my shell. Having brought along my old pair of ice skates, I thought now was as good a time as any to get back on the ice. A smattering of other partygoers had already convened on the Ice and had started playing games. I hadn’t much interest in their brand of fun, so I did my best to avoid their gaze.

  I stiffly started to skate about before finding my stride. I could feel the cool air stinging in my nostrils, as I sped along the outer edge of the rink. It had been a while since I’d been on the ice myself, but I felt the memories of all my old lessons coming back to me.

  I started skating backwards, as I was taught, and I felt a surge of adrenaline course through my veins. It was a feeling I always had before I did something that felt right, but was usually stupid. It felt right enough to me, as I pushed off the ice and did a quick spin in the air, narrowly landing without falling.

  It took me a second to catch my breath; I hadn’t done any figure skating since before my dad died. Even so, landing that jump brought back a few memories that I wish had stayed buried, as I felt a couple of tears begin to form at the corner of my eyes.

  A small bit of applause began to roar from the center of the ice. My skating had garnered their attention, against my better judgment. I turned to them and took a quick bow, to appease their cheers, skating backward the entire way.

  Then I bumped into him.

  I lost my footing and fell over backwards, my legs flipping over my head, making me land face first on the ice while still sliding backwards. Then a hand shot out to stop me, which was, at least, a modicum of solace.

  I couldn’t make out who was helping me, but was thankful that I was being helped up at all. I barely needed to do any of the work, as it seemed he felt intent to pick me all the way up. In fact, he did, cradling me in his arms for a moment while laughing.

  I rolled my eyes and pushed off, finding myself standing back on the ice and more than a little woozy from the fall.

  “You know, you should watch where you’re going when there’s a crowd on the ice,” he said between laughs.

  I scowled at him for a second before responding.

  “You could have gotten out of my way!”

  “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have seen you do a backflip. Did anyone tell you that you’re cute when you’re angry?”

  I flared my nostrils and began to skate away. He followed after me, to my chagrin.

  “Why are you following me,” I asked.

  “I wanted to make sure I was there to catch you if you tripped over someone else,” he replied.

  “I can see where I’m going, just go away,” I said, steering out of the way of the group on the center of the ice.

  “Are you sure,” he asked, coyly.

  I stopped and wheeled around to confront him.

  “You’re the worst kind of jerk,” I started, “at least normal jerks stop bothering me when I ask them to.”

  He laughed.

  I hadn’t had a good look at him before, but now that I was looking at him face to face, and not woozy from falling over, he was actually a little attractive.

  A smattering of thick stubble surrounded his chiseled chin, as his thick unkempt hair tousled around his head, falling down to his forehead in wavy circles. He was taller than me, even though I was on skates. I couldn’t see much under his puffy, thick, winter jacket, but he wore it well with a strong stature.

  “Didn’t I see you at the game, earlier?” he asked.

  Now that I looked, I saw the same icy blue eyes staring back at me that I’d seen during the game earlier.

  “You’re the player that got shoved against the glass,” I said.

  He tousled his hair with his hand.

  “Yeah, I still feel that one,” he replied
, “are you enjoying the party?”

  I looked over at the group gathered around the keg; they laughed as though being drunk were the best thing in the world.

  “I was enjoying it in my own way, until you decided that I should be doing backflips instead of skating,” I said.

  He laughed.

  I didn’t know I was a comedian.

  “Considering how sober you are right now, you must come with me.”

  I stared at him quizzically.

  “Just follow me, it’s important,” he said, beckoning me to follow.

  My curiosity was taking over, and out of instinct and adventure I followed. He led me to the other side of the arena, to the group gathered around the keg.

  “I have the other person for my team,” he shouted.

  The crowd let out a collected cheer, and I was regretting wearing my ice skates right now.

  “Okay, here’s the game. It’s team style beer pong; the winning team gets to choose a suitable punishment for the losing team. Standard rules, no rebounds.”

  I felt like an idiot joining in on this inane game. An excuse to drink and throw things around was all it really was, and thinly veiled at that.

  A ping pong ball was thrust into my hand. I leaned over to my partner and whispered in his ear.

  “What do I do,” I asked in earnest.

  He leaned in to explain.

  “Throw the ball into their cups, if it goes in they have to drink the contents of the glass, and the same goes for us. If they run out of cups, we win. You’re pretty sober, so I’m hoping you can throw straight.”

  I flicked the ball around in my hand before lining up my shot. It landed right in the front cup. I felt a surge of excitement as the boy on their team picked up the glass and guzzled down the brown liquid.

  My joy was short lived as he answered right back by splashing me with the beer in the cup in front of me. My partner gestured to the glass, and I begrudgingly took the glass and drink heartily.

  The exchange became fierce; we’d attack and force them to drink, and they’d respond in kind. As the alcohol began to make my vision blurry, I began letting out a string of obscenities that would have made my father proud.

  My loud mouth caught a few laughs from the people nearby, and I felt a little bit of enjoyment from being so well received.

  We were down to our last cups; one more success would mean that we’d get to pick a fun punishment for our rivals. I was already thinking up terrible things to make them do; I would have them run around the block naked, or I’d have them go for a dip in the lake even though most of it was frozen over from the winter cold.

  My teammate stepped up for his, hopefully final, toss. I could hear my heartbeat in my chest as the suspense was killing me. He loosed it, and it bounced just off the edge of the tiny red cup.

  I exhaled a sigh of utter defeat even though we had yet to lose. The girl on the other team bobbed and weaved about while trying to line up her shot, and I hoped she would miss. I knew I could make the final throw.

  But, it was all for not. She lazily tossed the ball that bounced off the table a few times before planting it squarely in the last glass on our side.

  “That shouldn’t count, you can barely see straight,” I said. Although, that wasn’t all I had to say as even more unsportsmanlike slurs ushered from my lips.

  Still, I snagged the last glass from the table, which sloshed around in my drunken grasp, before downing the beverage in one gulp. It was at that point that I let out the most unladylike belch.

  My partner did nothing but laugh, watching me stumble around on my skates. I took a moment and sat myself upon the ground to remove them when the winning team started chiming in with their decision for punishment.

  “Okay, Rick. Your punishment is, you have to kiss the dirtiest mouth at this whole party,” said the girl.

  I started laughing while wondering who that might be. Then I found my answer when my partner, Rick, plucked me from the floor and started kissing me. At first, I tried my best to push away, but the firmness of his lips and the rush of adrenaline I had from losing the game were getting the best of me. I liked it, and my head yearned for more human contact.

  He pulled his head back slowly, craning his neck to give me some space while looking into my eyes. For the briefest of seconds, I thought he might feel the same way as I did, but he just unwound his arms and started to walk away.

  “Okay, what’s your name,” the girl asked.

  “I’m Casey,” I said while picking my skates up off the ground.

  “Alright Casey, I have a punishment for you,” she had a wicked smile on her lips, and I knew nothing good was going to come of it.

  “You have to do a lap around the ice rink,” she started.

  I felt a sigh of relief, but then she continued.

  “Wearing only your ice skates,” she added.

  A sudden panic struck me in the heart, and my entire body tensed. All the small conversations around me stopped, and I was suddenly the center of attention.

  “I don’t think I can do that,” I said, meekly, barely echoing my voice for anyone to hear.

  Rick must have noticed because he sidled up closer beside me and whispered in my ear.

  “Casey, have a sense of adventure. Everyone here is drunk and won’t even remember what you look like anyway. I have a feeling this is more toned down that what she was originally thinking,” he said.

  I pondered the idea for a moment, getting naked in front of a crowd was probably my worst fear. I started thinking back to all the books I’d read; all of them full of heroes that fought against great evil, finding their way out of impossible situations. Then I realized I was pretty drunk anyway.

  “Alright, If I’m to be a martyr so that this party might never be forgotten, let me be so,” I said chivalrously.

  I saw many cocked eyes and awkward glances after I said it and now regretted saying as much.

  The weight of the task weighed in my mind, and I wanted to force the crowd to turn around so I could change but knew it would make no difference. So, I started to slide my pants off over my slender legs; it probably would have been more difficult if I had been curvier but I’ve always been skinny.

  The crowd began to hoot and holler, and my adrenaline was pumping again. I was too nervous to take off my underwear just yet, so I took off my sweater and felt the cold from the ice start to freeze my nipples under my small bra.

  I pulled my beanie back down on my head, in a vain attempt to keep as much heat as I could inside my body. I plopped down on a bench near the entrance to the ice rink and peeled off my cotton panties. The excitement of being watched was turning me on, which increased my embarrassment. I hoped that nobody was paying attention to that.

  I slipped my ice skates back on while doing my best to hide my girlie bits from prying eyes. I saw a few flashes go off in the crowd and just prayed that I wouldn’t see it on Monday.

  With my skates on, I held one hand up to my recently shaved mound to hide myself, but it didn’t help in the slightest. They continued to holler, and I could tell the guys were excited for the free show; I wanted to smack them all.

  I unclasped my bra and lowered it over my small, perky breasts, tossing it aside; using my hands to cover them and crossing my legs to cover my other parts.

  “Start skating, girl,” said the girl. I would make her pay for this sometime.

  I stepped onto the ice and inched my way around, trying to keep hidden while completing this ridiculous dare. But, as I did it I realized that the more time I spent inching around the ice, the longer I’d have to be naked.

  I hunched over and began skating fast, taking bigger strides as I went in an attempt to finish quicker. I saw flashes from cell phone cameras and just rolled my eyes as there was nothing I could do to stop it now.

  Then I just stopped caring. I let myself go and started feeling at ease on the ice. The motion of skating was warming my core, and the swooshing of the ice took away their scream
s at my naked frame.

  In all the excitement, I could feel a dripping down my leg. I really was getting turned on from being naked in front of all these people. I hoped that it was just a one-time occurrence and that I wasn’t some kind of exhibitionist. Maybe it was all the drinks I’d consumed or the excitement of almost winning a game.

  I rounded the other side and began to make my way back, my heart pounded the whole way, and I started to think of the characters from my book, and the things they went through while accomplishing their great deeds. I felt like a hero.

  Rick stepped out on the ice, and my heart skipped a beat. I yearned to be kissed again; I could feel it in my bones. He pulled out a camera and started photographing the entire thing. I had some slightly naughty thoughts about what he’d be doing with the footage later.

  My skate slipped below me, sending me tumbling to my back but still moving towards Rick. I tried to stop myself with my skates, but it just splayed my legs out, giving everyone a perfect view of my incredibly wet sex.

  I came to a stop in front of Rick, whom apparently found it more important to take a picture of my womanhood than help me up. I whipped my legs closed as quickly as physically possible as Rick held out a hand to help me up.

  I took it and hugged close to him to try to cover myself with something. He reached over for my jacket and threw it around my shoulders.

  “I have a feeling you won’t be forgetting this for a while,” he said through a smile.

  “Hey, I only did it because I’m drunk and had to follow through with the gamble. It’s your fault I’m her to begin with,” I retorted.

  He handed me the rest of my things, and I don’t think I’ve ever dressed myself faster in my life. It felt as though I had never felt warmth before and was just feeling it for the first time as I got dressed.

  “Please tell me you’ll get rid of that recording,” I said.

  “Casey, I’ll remember this for years to come,” he replied.

  I stuffed my skates back into my bag; I wanted to get away from the crowd of drunks, but they all felt the need to tell me how awesome I was. I did feel like the hero of the party.

 

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