Page 42 of Hot As Ice

I wasn’t expecting that. At all. What I was expecting even less is the reaction that buzzes through me, pure possession and thrill that she’s claiming me like that.

I raise my stick and point it directly at her. Mine. You’re mine, princess.

Our eyes are locked, and she licks her lips, looking a little unsure, a little wary at the raw energy passing between us. Good. She’s going to be tied to my bed again tonight, and I’m not letting her go until morning with a sore, aching pussy and bruised ass.

Ever since I got a thorough taste of her last week, she’s been on my mind. The night after our fuck fest, I slept better than I have in years. My princess did so well letting me take her virginity. I can still feel her clenching around my cock, milking the cum out of me.

I’ve been craving her like a drug since then but decided to give her a few days to recover before I put her through the sex wringer again. She deserved a break.

But it ends tonight.

I turn around and follow my teammates off the ice. Coach claps me on the shoulder, his obvious pride sinking into my bones. He’s not exactly a demonstrative man; a clap on the shoulder is huge from him. But if I thought it was just pride he was feeling for the team, I was dead wrong.

Before we can hit the showers, he’s got a tape up on the big screen in the locker room, his laser pointer in his hand. The guys groan. It’s gonna be a long lecture.

Coach always does this when we’re playing well.

He doesn’t like us getting complacent, so it’s tough love all the way. Now, he makes us watch 20 minutes of tape, pointing out our mistakes and weaknesses. It’s fucking brutal. He pauses the game while I’m on screen, about to take a shot. “Cruise,” he says. “Your backhand, it needs some work.” As if I didn’t just score with a backhand shot earlier. I hold back a frustrated sigh.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

“Alright, hit the showers,” he barks, torture session over. “Y’all stink.”

AFTER SHOWERING AND getting dressed, I drive off campus, heading toward Stevie’s apartment.

The guys are off to party at the club, but there’s only one place I wanna be – inside Stevie’s tight little cunt. I don’t know if she went home or to the club, or somewhere else. Not knowing where she is at all times chafes at me. I need to put a location tracker on her phone.

She’s mine now, and I’m not letting her off my radar for even one second. I shoot her a text.

Me

Where are you?

Stevie

Home, why?

Me

I’m on my way. Be dressed in my jersey and outside in five.

I get there in four minutes. Getting out of the car, I round the front to the passenger side and lean against it, anticipation coiling in my gut. I can’t wait to get her naked.

I’ve never wanted a woman this much in my life.

And I don’t know what to make of it, so I tell myself not to bother analyzing my feelings right now. It’s probably just sex hormones. Plus, the other night she reacted to me in a way that’s still got me buzzing.

So, yeah, it’s just lust, and I shouldn’t think it’s anything else.

I roll my shoulders and check my watch. She should’ve been outside already. I’m about to go in and knock on her door when she steps out. The sight of her in my jersey makes my cock stir. The jersey hits her mid-thigh, and her legs are bare. Do I dare hope she’s not wearing anything underneath?

She comes to a stop in front of me and I reach down, grabbing the hem of the jersey and lifting it up. Yup, no shorts underneath. Just black lace panties.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I ask her.

She smiles sweetly. “You said be dressed in your jersey, so I’m dressed in your jersey.”

“Tell me you’re wearing a bra.”