Kane (Face-Off Series Book 2)

by Jillian Quinn

  Why do his pants have to be so damn tight? And why does he have to be so fucking sexy?

  I swear he did this on purpose. He wants to kill me. I might die from lack of oxygen to my brain if he doesn’t move.

  When was the last time I even had sex?

  The thoughts running through my mind are driving me insane. I write about sex all the time for the blog, but I have been so busy with work it must be at least six or seven months since I broke up with my ex. And now, I have some serious man candy with the stick to match, shoving his manhood in my face and loving every second.

  “Could you move? Is there some reason why you are hovering over me?”

  In answer, he plops down on the couch next to me, his big body taking up way too much space. He slides around to get comfortable, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt, drawing my attention to every movement he makes. Tracing the lines down his arms with my eyes, I think about reaching out and doing the same thing with my finger. I bet his skin is soft, smooth. Oddly enough, I want to touch him, explore his body with my hands and mouth.

  “See something you like?” He says with a hint of a smile on his lips.

  “I was just thinking about something.” I try to play it off, nonchalant as if I wasn’t two seconds away from licking him.

  “I’m sure you were.” He scoots closer to me, our bodies a few inches apart, the heat from his limbs making me all too aware of how close we are to one another.

  Gripping the pen tighter, my hand hurts from squeezing it so hard, crushing the bones. My pain makes me more aware of my sexual desire for Tyler and how wrong it is for me to have such thoughts. I shouldn’t want him. But he makes it so damn hard when he oozes sex, shifting his weight so that his leg is propped up against the cushion, my gaze seeking out the giant cock in his pants.

  If you could bottle up his sexual appeal, women could orgasm for the rest of their lives without ever needing a man. He runs a hand through his short blond hair and licks his lips. This motherfucker is trying to torture me. Someone with his looks, talent, and money has had his share of women eyeing him up, and I am no different from those women. Tyler doesn’t miss a beat, all too aware of my physical response to his closeness.

  “You should take a deep breath,” he whispers against my lips, “because you look like a fucking corpse right now.”

  His laughter snaps me out of my trance. Now awake from my sex daze and afraid to make direct eye contact, I squirm in my seat and flip open my notebook, needing a distraction from Tyler.

  “Why don’t we start the interview? I’m sure you have other plans for today.”

  “Nope. I was planning on doing you, but otherwise, my schedule is wide open.”

  I keep my eyes on my book and flip through until I find a blank page. He will not deter me from my mission. I came here to get the story no one has on Tyler Kane, not hop into bed with him.

  “I’m glad you don’t have a life,” I say, scribbling the date at the top of the page, “but I have things to do later, and no, they don’t involve you, in case you are wondering.”

  “Damn, babe. That was harsh.”

  “Don’t call me babe.” I glance up from the book for a brief second, his eyes slicing through me with one look. “You should get used to disappointment. Not everyone will hand you life on a silver platter just because you’re wealthy and famous. Sometimes, you will get a dose of reality and have to learn how to deal with it.”

  He opens his legs wider as he leans in to me, the heat from his breath on my skin going straight to my core. “So, now that we established my bedroom is out of the question, how about I show you another part of the house? I have lots of rooms. We can do something in each one, and you can write a story about it.”

  Narrowing my eyes at him, I try to keep my shit together, forcing myself to hate him, so I don’t make the mistake of brushing my lips against his. He’s way too close to me and putting me out of my comfort zone.

  “You do realize that makes you sound like a child when you ask questions like that, right? I mean, what’s next? Are you going to ask me if I want to jump on the bed with you or see your game room?”

  “You are an interesting woman, Kennedy. I like you.” His fingers travel up the length of my arm as he speaks almost against my lips. “What did you want to ask me?”

  My panties are soaked, dripping fucking wet. Afraid my juices might slide down my thigh any minute, I close my legs. Of course, Tyler notices and clamps his other hand down on my knee, his palm still cupping my shoulder.

  “What are you doing, Tyler?” I don’t even have the willpower to move away from him.

  “Giving you something to write about.” He slides the bizarre pink jacket off my shoulders, exposing my bare arms to the cold room, sending chills through me. The jacket bunches at my elbows, and instead of helping me out of it, he runs his hand across my skin and bends forward to kiss my shoulder, making his way to my neck.

  My skin pricks with goose bumps, and although part of it so from the temperature inside the house, the other half is from Tyler.

  “Tyler,” I moan, having trouble controlling my breathing. “We can’t do this.”

  “Give me one good reason,” he mumbles as his lips travel up to my neck.

  “It’s unprofessional,” I spit out, unable to concentrate.

  He slides my dress up, still kissing my neck. My ovaries are ready to explode. There’s too much happening between us without it actually happening. He either needs to do something about the aching between my legs or get the fuck off me and let me go home and take care of it myself.

  “We don’t work together.” His voice is low and sensual. “So, I don’t see how this is unprofessional.”

  “I’m a reporter. It’s my job to report the news. What would people think of me if you gave me an interview because I had sex with you?”

  “Who said you’re getting an interview? Maybe I just wanted you to come over so we can play.”

  I cover his hand with mine, and that gets his attention enough to stop kissing my neck to look up at me. At this moment, I don’t care about the interview. I care about having the hottest hockey player in the NHL getting me off. It’s not like I haven’t watched him tear it up on the ice over the years and think how hot it would be to have my own puck bunny moment with a guy like Tyler.

  Spreading my legs, I place his hand on the inseam of my thigh. “If you’re not giving me an interview, then you better make me come, or I’m leaving.”

  His wicked smile reaches up to his eyes. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

  Before I can say another word, his lips are on me, and his tongue slips inside my mouth, tangling with mine. Our kisses are animalistic, rough and hard, like two enemies trying to fight each other off. I want him, but I don’t. I should leave, but I won’t. I’m an idiot for not resisting him. My head spins from the passion behind each kiss, unable to get enough.

  Once he has my dress pushed up my thighs, exposing black lace panties, he glances down and licks his lips before looking up at me beneath his brows. “You were hiding these under this ridiculous outfit.”

  “What’s wrong with what I have on?” I whisper, still trying to catch my breath.

  “It just doesn’t match you at all. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were wearing this on purpose to distract me. Sort of like how girls will wear an ugly sweater to break up with a guy just so they don’t want to fuck them when all we can think about is what’s under the fucking sweater. So, if that was your angle, it didn’t work. You’re sexy, and I still want to fuck you.”

  Gripping his shirt in my hands, I pull him to me, our lips almost touching. “Then shut up and fuck me already.”

  He pushes my legs together to slide my panties down to my ankles and throws them behind him. The look in his eyes is primal, devouring every inch of my semi-naked body. I’m still wearing my dress with the jacket bunched at my elbows, but I feel so exposed with my dripping pussy on display.

 
Without another word, he tests my slickness before he plunges two fingers inside me. “So wet,” he groans. “I can’t wait to fuck your tight pussy.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip to stifle my moans. At first, Tyler starts slow, his pace quickening with each second. My mind spins into a frenzy of sexual bliss, consumed by the high that Tyler has given me as my muscles tighten around his fingers. I am so close to finding my release, and I think he knows it, because without stopping, he lifts my leg over his shoulder, leaving a few kisses on my skin, before he bends down to suck on my clit.

  I. Could. Die.

  Tyler’s lips, his mouth, the tiny bit of stubble all rubbing against my pussy, feels so good I want it to last forever. Tyler Kane is as good with his hands and mouth as he is on the ice. Not that I ever doubted that. I shouldn’t have let him touch me. I never should have let him kiss me. And I should not have let him finger and lick my pussy. But…and this is a big but, I don’t want him to stop.

  “Tyler,” I scream, gripping a fist full of his hair in my hands as my entire body trembles, the heat spreading from my cheeks to my toes.

  After my body stops convulsing and my moans die off, he slides his fingers out of me and looks up at me, his lips covered in my juices, looking sexy as fuck. “Damn.” That’s all he says but the cocky smirk says it all. He owns me now, and I want him to own me—or at least until after he fucks me.

  “I just gave you some new material to write about,” he says, playful, “and we haven’t even started.”

  Then he stands to take off his shirt. He raises it over his head and drops it on the floor. I can’t stop staring at his eight-pack abs, tracing the curves of each muscle. But the real muscle, the one that makes my mouth open wide and my pussy do a happy dance is the one in his pants. Because when Tyler pushes his track pants over his hips that he had on without any underwear and drops them to the floor, I need to wipe the drool from my chin. As if I thought I knew how big it was from the outline I saw earlier, my mind did not do it any justice.

  He steps out of his sneakers and pants, kicking them behind him. I bite down hard enough to draw blood as I stare at his massive erection, giddy but somewhat nervous. Will the whole thing even fit? I guess we will find out. That could be another blog article. Instead of How to react when his stick ain’t all that, I should write How to react when his stick is so big you want to scream, cry, jump up and down, but are scared to death that you may never walk straight again.

  My ovaries are like yeah, bitch, ready to give me a high-five because they are going to be on overdrive tonight. Giving himself a few strokes, Tyler stalks toward me and lowers himself between my legs. But for whatever reason, I don’t want to have sex with him on his couch even though I had no problem with him going down on me a few seconds before. It makes me feel…cheap, which confuses me even more.

  I write about one-night stands and every type of sexual encounter imaginable, most of which I have experienced for myself or vicariously through Sydney or our viewers. With Tyler, I want this to be right—no, perfect.

  “Do you think we can move this to your bed? The couch isn’t all that comfortable.”

  He shoots me a confused look and sits back on the sofa. “If you don’t want to do this anymore, I understand. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready to do.”

  I hold out my hand to him. “Oh, I’m ready all right. Lead the way, handsome.”

  Jumping up from the couch, he pulls me up and into his chest in one swift scoop and wraps his arms around me. I think how nice this is for a second before I realize his massive cock is digging into my stomach. It needs its own zip code.

  He bends down to kiss me on the lips, softly this time. I almost miss the rough kisses, but the sensual, passionate ones cause my toes to curl just as much. After he releases me from his grasp, he catches me from falling forward, my body and mind too disconnected to function at the same time.

  “Take me to your lair,” I say, laughing.

  “You’re such a smartass.” He shakes his head and pulls down my bottom lip with his thumb.

  I stick out my tongue to lick his skin. He does something I least expect and picks me up like a ragdoll and slings me over his shoulder, smacking me on the ass as he walks out of the living room.

  “This ass is mine,” he says, pushing up my dress and biting my skin.

  I smack him in the arm, still feeling the sting from his teeth on my ass. “You’re a bad boy, Tyler.”

  He laughs as we descend the stairs. “You have no idea, baby. I’m about to show you just how bad I can be.”

  Chapter Eight

  TYLER

  Before I’d bought Roxie from my neighbor, my friends would tell me how much I’d score if I had a dog. Not that I needed a distraction to get laid, but shit, they were right. Women love seeing a man with an animal. But no one ever told me my dog would end up being the biggest cock blocker.

  When I kick open the door to my bedroom, Roxie nibbles at my ankle and jumps up to lick Kennedy before I have the chance to set her down on the bed. Sliding Kennedy down my chest, I lower her to the ground in case Roxie also wants to take a bite of her perfect ass. For someone who dresses as if she stepped out of another decade, she has a smoking hot body underneath all those layers.

  I haven’t even seen her tits yet, too busy licking and fingering her pussy. The way she screamed my name when she came was so fucking hot I’m surprised I didn’t nut in my pants. Now, I’m sitting on the floor while Kennedy plays with Roxie, laying flat on her back as Roxie jumps on her chest. She might be a puppy in the sense of her age, but my dog has been growing like a champ and way too heavy to be pouncing on her stomach.

  Kennedy doesn’t seem to mind, and I like watching the two of them together. This is the first time I invited a woman into my bedroom. I usually have sex on the couch or in one of the spare bedrooms. But I never invite them to where I sleep. The house is so unlived-in from me never being home that women never seem to notice they’re not even in my bedroom—if we even make it that far.

  With Kennedy, I found myself walking to my room without a second thought. Not until Roxie cock blocked me did I regret my choice.

  Kennedy has her legs spread open wide, giving me a nice view of her wet pussy. I stroke my cock a few times, so fucking hard I am in physical pain. Needing to be inside her, I crawl across the carpet to close to the distance between us and lift Roxie from her chest.

  “Hey, what are you doing? Give her back. I’m not done loving her.” Kennedy holds out her hands to take Roxie back as if she weighs five pounds and could fit in the palm of her hand.

  If I didn’t already like this woman more than any woman I’ve been with in a long time, her love for Roxie only added to what I’m feeling. She’s cool, smart, funny, loves sports, and has a mouth on her that makes my dick hard every time she gets wise with me.

  “She’s getting in the way of me and your pussy,” I say, setting Roxie down to slip between her legs.

  Roxie licks the side of my face at the same time I lean down to kiss Kennedy, killing the moment. Nothing is more unappealing than trying to have sex with a girl when you have slobber on your cheek. Like I said, Roxie is a cock blocker.

  “Rain check,” she asks, running her hands through Roxie’s dark coat. “I think this one has other plans for us.” Kennedy nuzzles her face against Roxie’s, the two of them adorable together.

  I nod, unable to hide a smile. “Of course.”

  After deciding I should get dressed, I get up and open the drawer behind Kennedy to pull out a pair of mesh basketball shorts and a black and orange Flyers T-shirt. “Are you hungry?”

  Roxie jumps up and barks, thinking I am talking to her. I make a goofy face at her. “I’ll feed you too, girl, but I wasn’t talking to you.”

  Kennedy looks up, her eyes darting straight to my erection and bites down on her bottom lip. She stares at me for a few seconds before she snaps out of it. “Yeah, I guess I could eat.”

  “I’ve got
something you can eat,” I quip.

  She blushes, turning her head away from me to play with Roxie. “I meant food, stupid.”

  I slip into my boxers and pull them over my hips, peeking down at her and that pouty lip, which is not helping me get rid of this hard-on that will not quit. “I don’t often cook so your options are limited to pizza, frozen burritos, and Gatorade or water. I can order us something. What are you in the mood to eat?”

  “Pizza is fine with me. Whatever.” She shrugs her shoulders, nonchalant. “I’ll eat just about anything you put in front of me. I’m not picky.”

  This woman is so low maintenance. And I like that. I have trouble remembering the last time I was with a woman who didn’t expect me to wine and dine her as if I need to pay for pussy. Models and actresses are worse than puck bunnies. They expect the world served to them on a silver platter.

  At least with bunnies, I can go into it knowing they only want to fuck me because I play hockey. Some of them have been more clingy than others, but they’re a lot easier to deal with if I’m looking for a booty call than some prissy model who eats celery sticks and water and still expects me to take her to a Michelin-starred restaurant just because I can afford it.

  After I finish changing into my shorts and shirt, I help Kennedy to her feet, her tits pressing against my chest and making me hard all over again. I want to bend her sweet ass over the bed right now and fuck the smile from her face. But Roxie is too obsessed with her new friend to give me a second to touch Kennedy before she’s already rubbing her wet nose against her bare leg for attention.

  “Let’s take this downstairs,” I say, releasing her from my grip and wishing I could spend five minutes alone with her without Roxie interrupting us.

  As we descend the stairs, Roxie forces her way between us, almost knocking Kennedy over and taking the stairs so fast she’s already at the bottom landing and barking at us by the time my feet hit the middle of the long staircase.

  I lead Kennedy into the kitchen and hit the buttons on the oven to preheat. Frozen food directions are about all I know how to follow when it comes to cooking. I have fancy pots and pans the interior designer I hired hung from the ceiling on metal racks. At the time, I had assumed it was for decoration, and since I don’t cook, I left them in the same exact place she had left them.