Page 69 of Game Misconduct
twenty-six
. . .
Nick
My head spins as all the remaining blood in my brain rushes straight to my dick.
“Seriously? You’re game?”
Bex tilts her chin, unafraid to ask for what she wants. What she needs.
And what she needs is me.
“Fuck me,” she murmurs. “Fuck me out of my head.”
I scramble to my feet. “I don’t have any condoms.” Not in my practice gear.
“I’ve got it.” She presses on my chest, and I take a step back. Hell, I’m still wearing my skates. I debate taking them off—do I fuck her while wearing literal knife shoes, or do I unwrap all the tape and pads to take them off?
She rummages in her desk drawer, coming up with a condom and a packet of lube.
“I’m allergic to—”
“Latex. I remember.” There’s a reason I’ve been carrying polyurethane condoms around in my wallet for the last three and a half years, and it has everything to do with her.
The condom is intact, not punctured—not that I doubted her—and the expiration date is still a few years out. We’re good.
I’m wearing a shit ton of gear, and it takes a lot longer to strip out of my hockey pants, base layer, and jock than I anticipated. When I finally get my bottom half undressed, Bex has arranged herself over her desk, legs spread, ass up.
My mouth dries faster than the desert. Fuck, she looks like dessert personified.
“Ba—” I cut myself off just in time, remembering her reaction to that word. “Bex. Holy fuck.”
She turns to look at me over her shoulder. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
Making quick work of rolling on the condom, I coat myself in the lube, then sink two fingers into her tight heat to spread the wetness around. She’s naturally wet, almost dripping with it, but a little extra lube never hurt. Not wanting to let me go, she clenches around me.
The air crackles with old anger and new hunger, heat and possibility. We’re in her office—where we both work—and anyone could walk in at any moment. This is insanely risky. I’d be a fool to toss aside my career for one hurried tryst.
But this is Bex. My Bex. I’d be a fucking idiot to pass up a chance with her, however I can get it.
When she lets out a soft sigh, I line myself up with her entrance. Her muscles immediately tense, and I run a hand over her hip.
“It’s okay, Bex. Let me in.”
She exhales to the count of four, then relaxes, the tension easing from her body. I sink into her sweet cunt, her body gripping me so tightly I can hardly breathe.
The first few moments are always when I’m most oversensitive, when I can get too carried away. I let her acclimate, too, her breaths becoming steadier, less shallow.
Finally, she arches her back, pressing her hips toward me. “Fuck me.”
I pull out, then thrust deep, all the way to the hilt. A stuttered gasp falls from her lips.
“Shh. We’ve got to be quiet.”
“Quick and quiet. Two things I never am.” She smirks at me over her shoulder, her signature red lipstick mussed from our kisses.
Her copper hair tumbles down her back in riotous waves, and I thread my fingers through the length, tugging. Bex arches her neck, letting out a soft pant. Her yielding loosens that viselike grip around my heart. She trusts me, at least enough for this. She knows I’ll take care of her.
