Game For Love_Delay of Game Read online

  She walked to the elevator bay with him close behind, dwarfing her. “Sixth,” she said, pushing the button once they’d stepped in. When the fans came hurrying after him, she watched him stop them all with a look.

  “You seem to have that look of death down to an art form.” She crossed her arms and rested against the wall.

  “I spent time with them; they don’t know when to quit. Push and I get pissed.”

  She almost smiled. “I see.”

  He turned and had her blocked in within seconds. She held her breath, waiting for him to make a decision to either kiss her or back away. The crooked bend in his nose, indicative of having been broken at least once, took him from being too beautiful and landed him square in the ruggedly sexy arena.

  “I want to kiss you.”

  His breath had a hint of mint and something else. Whatever it was, she longed to know if the taste would be as tantalizing.

  “What’s the problem? I didn’t say no.”

  “The fact—” he tugged on a curl by her right temple— “I don’t know if I’d be able to stop.”

  Heat pooled between her legs, and she fought the urge to squeeze them together. She skimmed her tongue over her teeth and smoothed one hand along his chest. “Do you hear me saying for you to stop?”

  A growl rumbled up from his throat, and he hauled her up to his mouth, lifting her on the tips of her toes. “I’m going to fuck you. Thrust into you until you’re crying out my name. I won’t stop until you can’t come anymore. Only then will I stop.”

  The rasped words were fire along her skin, and she panted, arching closer. “My room isn’t that far away.”

  He dipped his head and skimmed along her cheek as he inhaled. “You smell like heaven.”

  The doors slid open behind him. “I could say the same about you.” She gulped and gave herself a mental yell to get out of the elevator.

  “Are you walking or should I carry you?”

  “Walking, although the other is tempting beyond hell.”

  Ever the gentleman, he escorted her up the hallway to the door of her room. She unlocked the door, and he opened it. The room was stunning, and in the back of her mind, she made a mental note to peep the scene later. Right now, the man who sucked all the air from her lungs in the most amazing of ways had shut out the rest of the world, leaving it occupied by the two of them.

  “Ten seconds.”

  His words were so graveled she had a hard time deciphering them.

  “Ten seconds for what?”

  “To get naked.” The fire which had been banked in his gaze became a full flame, and she understood he meant every word.

  Chapter Two

  High Sticking—hitting a player in the head or shoulders with a stick. A penalty (single minor if no blood, double minor is blood is drawn)

  Sergej stared. He had no recourse not to. This woman, from the first time he looked up to see her standing there, had been a charge to his cock. He hadn’t any explanation as to why that was. Since that moment, his cock had been doing its best to kick free of the denim restricting it. Wanted to sink his length inside her pussy.

  He watched as she dropped her bag to the floor at her feet and untucked her shirt. His breath hitched as she yanked it off over her head, exposing her dark smooth skin and the plain white bra that only fueled his fire. She was fit and blessed with curves that made sure to remind him she was all woman. Her hair inky black called to his fingers for touching and surrounded her heart-shaped face perfectly.

  He crossed the remaining distance to her and dominated her mouth. Her whimper pushed into him, and he groaned in response. She tasted better than he imagined she would. Pushing her back, he raked his gaze over her.

  Hunger, untamed and raw, rushed over him owning every cell in his body. Fisting his left hand, he stepped back into her personal space, a primal growl rising from his throat. Her eyes locked onto his, pupils dilated.

  Four.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  His leash snapped, and he lunged the rest of the way for her, desperate to have her against him. Her curves tight to his. She met him halfway, her own desperation rivaling his own. Their tongues dueled as he sank his hands into her natural curls. God, it was such an aphrodisiac having it trail over his skin.

  Used to being on the ice, he didn’t consider himself overtly tactile. Now, he did. He wanted to experience it all. His cock jumped as she sucked hard on his invading tongue.

  Yanking her head back, he stumbled toward the king-size bed. Her moans filled his ears, pushing aside the last bit of control he possessed. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and he longed to feel them against his bared skin.

  Her taste, exquisite. Her touch, heaven.

  “This…this is insane.”

  Her words—while breathy—penetrated and slowed his action. “Tell me to stop, and I will.” He’d have blue balls until there wasn’t a Stanley Cup ever again and live on an ice cube, but he’d find a way.

  She dug her strong grip into his upper arms. “Don’t you dare. It’s insane how much I want this. Freaking insane. I just met you.”

  A grin flicked his lips before he kissed her again. If he’d been told he’d be in a hotel room with the best friend of his friend’s sister, he would have laughed them out of the country. Especially knowing she was a welder. But, she didn’t fit any of his asinine assumptions. More importantly, she catapulted him into a different realm. All his thoughts were about her and what he was about to do with her.

  She released him and shucked out of the rest of her clothing, then attacked his. Articles went flying, and soon, he had her on the bed, filling her with his cock. “Tight,” he uttered, pushing all the way in the wet heat.

  “Thick,” she countered.

  He nibbled on her neck as he held still, allowing her to get used to his size. She wriggled beneath him.

  “Is there a hockey term for this?”

  “Winning Lord Stanley.”

  “Really? Fucking me is like winning the cup?”

  “I’ve not begun fucking you, yet. I’ve just pushed into you. I’m about to fuck you. And, yes, it’s better. Or I think so. I’ve not won it, yet, but we will.”

  She gripped his ass and held him tighter to her. “Not sure if I should be upset by that, then.”

  “I lost today. I should be sleeping so I can get up early and practice.”

  Her pussy flexed around him, and he groaned. “We can stop if you like.”

  “Not even if hell froze over.”

  “In that case, move.”

  So, he did. He fucked her. Long and drawn out strokes, short staccato ones, deep, shallow. Fast and slow. He worked himself so deep into her their sweat slicked bodies slid against one another. She didn’t just lie there and take it, she participated. Working her hips, her pussy muscles, and tearing at his skin.

  “You’re fucking heaven,” he said, slowing as she almost orgasmed.

  She nipped his shoulder and wrapped around him tighter. He loved it, loved how she held him. Pushing to his feet, he carried her to the window overlooking the city and put her back to it as he continued to thrust into her.

  Her cries grew louder, and he cupped her breasts, tweaking the nipples as she clung to him. The words falling from her lips were unintelligible, but he got the meaning as another vicelike grip of his cock preceded the coating of her cream.

  She wrapped a hand in the ends of his hair and pulled. Hard. The spike of pain shocked him, and he responded, going faster, deeper.

  “God, yes,” she wailed. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

  Sergej slid a hand between their bodies and gripped her clit with two fingers. He pinched it, and she came hard around him. The power of her release sent him over the edge with her. Still, he didn’t stop moving until her aftershocks had subsided.

  Sagging into her, cock still embedded deep, he used the glass to support them. Pulling back, he stared down at her. A self-satisfied smile lifted her full lip
s. He arched a brow.

  “That was nice to get the edge off. Let’s get down to it, then.” She captured her lower lip in her teeth and tightened her internal muscles around him.

  Stepping back, he lifted her free of his shaft, turned her so she faced the window then closed near, pushing into her once more, while she had to use the glass to hold her up. “I’m game if you are.”

  “My feet don’t touch the floor; I’m not going anywhere.” She reached back for one of his hands and positioned it on her breast. He took the hint and began playing with the nipple. He approved of how she didn’t become shy but showed what she wanted. Partook in the sex wholeheartedly. Angling his head to the left, he saw her fingering herself in the reflection.

  “Fuck, that’s hot.”

  Her response was to withdraw her fingers and put them to his lips. Greedily, he sucked them in to get her earthy, heady taste all over his taste buds.

  “More,” he demanded.

  “No,” she protested, as she worked her clit once more. One hand was on the glass as she tried unsuccessfully to get purchase.

  He grumbled and took her to the bed, dropped her and sank to his knees between her legs and covered her pussy with his mouth.

  “Oh, shit!” she yelled, hips bucking her up more into his eager mouth.

  He gripped her pelvis and held her still, enjoying the taste provided to him. Eyes closed, he savored her cream and her cries, begs of pleasure.

  αβ

  Her body crying out in stiffness, Constantine rolled over and cracked open her eyes. Sunlight streamed in through the window.

  “I thought Seattle was supposed to be gray and cloudy. What is this sun insanity?”

  “We have sun around here.”

  She froze, eyes wide. A man’s voice?

  That wasn’t all—his arm sat around her waist, comfortable and familiar. The previous night—and early this morning—rushed back to her.

  She’d fucked the top winger for the Washington Raptors.

  “Christ, I thought I’d dreamt that.”

  His warm chuckle brushed her ear seconds before his lips connected to the sensitive skin behind it. Her belly clenched as if it were her first rodeo and she wasn’t sure how to act around a man she’d slept with.

  Not every day you get a stud like Sergej Markovich. Man wasn’t only talented as hell on the ice but he was definitely skilled in the bedroom.

  “I’m not a dream.” One hand drifted lower, fingers spreading her pussy lips and pushing inside her body.

  She moaned even as she bucked into his touch. “Are you sure about that? I’m sure a lot of women dream about getting you into their bed. Men, too.”

  “They mean nothing to me.” He added another thick finger, his thumb teasing her clit. “You do.”

  For now. And she was okay with that. She understood he wasn’t hers; this wasn’t a permanent arrangement. It was a thing that happened. But she was going to take what she could from it.

  She slid her hand over his, encouraging his fingers deeper. “I have to get up and dressed. Vale will be here soon.”

  Her intentions of not making her friend wait vanished in a puff of smoke as he removed his digits and replaced them with his thick cock. Fuck it. Vale can wait a year for sex like this.

  Two hours later, her phone rang, again, and this time, she fumbled around for it. “Hello?”

  “Where are you? I’ve been down here for almost an hour; you’re not answering. Oh god, you sound horrible. Are you sick?”

  “Tired,” she said. “Slow down, Vale. I’m sorry; give me about ten minutes, and I’ll be right down.”

  “Give me your room, and I’ll come up.”

  Constantine didn’t respond, just hung up as if she’d had every intention of doing so right after stating she’d be down. The man she lay upon watched her, eyes heated and full of passion.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He cocked a brow. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Just, no. I have to get a shower so I don’t smell like you when I see Vale.”

  He brushed some of her hair back in an intimate gesture. “I like you smelling like me.” He threaded his hand into her hair and pulled her closer. “I’m addicted to kissing you,” he admitted, seconds before claiming her mouth once more.

  She opened and slipped her tongue along his. Eventually, she drew back. “You’re dangerous.”

  “I know.”

  “I have to shower.”

  “Yes.”

  Before she could say another word, he’d risen, her in his arms, and carried her to the bathroom where he joined her beneath the water.

  She left the room first, telling him to leave when he was ready. With a kiss and thank you, she hurried from his intoxicating presence, which turned her into a hussy. On the lobby floor, she exited the elevator and searched for Vale.

  Her friend sat in one of the chairs but rose when their eyes met. Constantine hurried to her side and hugged her.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “No problem. You okay? You sound a bit hoarse.”

  Screaming in pleasure all night will do that to a person. Happens.

  She shrugged. “You know me. Found some hot guy to fuck, and he screwed my brains out. I was screaming all night long.”

  Vale laughed, her long chestnut hair moving in time with her joviality. “If only you would. I would be so proud of you. Come on. We need to get going. Victor wants to see you, and we’re having lunch with him. Then, he has to get to practice. They’re all pissed they lost last night. So, upping the training so they can take the final game and get into the semi-finals.”

  Her thoughts floated to the man in her room. He should have been practicing. Not with her. Shaking off her guilt, she slipped her arm through Vale’s. “Let’s go, then.” They headed out to Vale’s Jeep Commando.

  Victor met them at Pike’s Market, and together, they walked around. She and Vale waited patiently as he stopped to sign autographs and take pictures.

  “So, how was Sergej?”

  It took all her willpower not to trip over her feet. “How was he?” Constantine slanted a questioning gaze to Victor.

  “Yes. How was he?” Victor moved closer to her. “He can be a bit standoffish. Was he nice to you? I told him he had to treat you right or he’d answer to me.”

  He treated me just fine. She gave him a smile. “He was waiting for me at the baggage claim and took me to the hotel. Wouldn’t even let me give him any money for the parking fees or gas.”

  “Don’t get me wrong; he’s a good guy, but I think I took him from one of the puck bunnies he had plans of meeting.”

  Sourness filled her stomach. Was that why he slept with her? She’d been under the impression they’d had a spark. Forcing herself to remain nonchalant, she said, “If that was the case, he never once complained about it. Even asked me about my work during the short ride.”

  Nodding in approval, Victor stopped to talk to another fan. Vale grabbed her arm and spun her around.

  “You slut,” she said, a shit-eating grin on her face. “You fucked him.”

  Blinking, Constantine raised a brow. “What?”

  Vale leaned in. “I know you like I know myself. You gave Victor way too much information about your time with him. Are you serious? You slept with Sergej? Is that why you were late coming down to meet me? Oh, don’t bother lying to me; I know the truth.”

  “Vale,” she begged.

  Her friend—or was that soon-to-be-ex-bestie—whooped, garnering Victor’s attention.

  “What?” he called out.

  “Just got some good news from Constantine.” She waved at him. “Carry on; we’ll be right here.”

  Constantine wanted to curl up in a little ball and sink below the pavement.

  Vale’s green eyes pinned her. “You owe me one hell of an explanation. How did this happen?”

  “Is it so far-fetched of an idea?”

  “For you? Yes. I mean, you’re not a prude, but you
don’t do these types of things, for the most part.”

  “He’s exceptional.” She smacked her forehead. “I mean, he was an exception. He was.”

  More unappreciated laughter from her quickly-seguing-into-enemy-territory-friend. “I’m sure he was,” she chortled.

  “Don’t say anything to Victor.”

  “Why would I do that? I want to see the fallout when he figures out what happened and punches Sergej.”

  “Is he not allowed to touch me? Am I not allowed to sleep with whom I want?”

  Her grin was unsettling. “You’re Victor’s little sister. I mean, that’s how he thinks of you. He knows what a man whore Sergej is and isn’t going to want you lumped into that category.”

  “Christ, I’m not in nappies.”

  “I hope not; that would just be nasty and wrong.”

  “Bitch,” she said playfully. “Don’t say anything to them. I don’t want any distractions for them until they win Lord Stanley.”

  “Lord Stanley, huh? This man has done a number on you. I barely get you to come see me play and here you are talking about the Cup.”

  “Why do I like you?” Constantine asked with a frown.

  “Because I’m awesome.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And so bloody modest.”

  “Yep, that, too.”

  They laughed, and Victor joined them, directing them to a place for lunch.

  Chapter Three

  Power Play—when one team has more players on the ice than their opponent as a result of penalties assessed to the shorthanded team.

  Sergej shouldered the Gambler defender out of his way with bruising force and raced off down the ice. He was angry. True, he played angry. It was his thing. He didn’t share well on few things, but the ice was one of them.

  Boarding another Gambler, he blinked the sweat away and pushed off once more, flying over the smooth surface to join the melee for the puck. Three of them vied for the puck along the boards, and he swore as someone took a cheap shot at his lower back. With the grouping, it was common, for the refs couldn’t always catch it. Victor freed the puck, sending it along the edge to a waiting Raptor farther up the ice.

  Wheeling after it, Sergej flicked his attention to where Vale, who cheered them on, sat. More importantly, where Constantine didn’t. She hadn’t shown up for the first period. They were five minutes into the second, and she still wasn’t even in the stands. The fact it bothered him annoyed him further.