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“Sir, yes, sir,” I murmured, bending down to pick up the jerseys I’d abandoned on the floor.
But despite the fact that I was annoyed at his attitude…I found myself hovering outside the locker room a few minutes later.
Jack came out almost immediately, his hair wet from what must have been the quickest shower in history.
He looked out of sorts though, kind of crazy. I was used to that from Greyson…but I didn’t know what to do with that from Jack.
“Do you have the jersey?” he growled.
“Yes, Mr. Growly. I have the jersey.”
“Good,” he said, taking my hand and dragging me down the hall, and then another. He didn’t stop until he got to the practice rink connected to the arena.
“What are we doing?” I asked, but he just grunted, pushing the boards door open and leading me out onto the ice. I stared around the rink. There was no one else here despite the fact that the rest of the building had been teeming with lingering fans.
Jack ripped the jersey from my hand, and then took a deep breath.
“If I don’t fuck you in my jersey…I’m pretty sure I’m going to die,” he finally said.
I huffed out a laugh. “What?”
“I’m serious,” he said, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m afraid I might die if I don’t get to do this with you. I need this. I need your sweet cunt. Please,” he begged, and there was in fact an edge of desperation in his words.
I blinked several times, wondering when my life had gotten so freaking weird.
And hot.
I mean, wanting to fuck me in his jersey was definitely some hot, fetish shit that…sounded pretty good to me.
"Strip for me, Kennedy," he commanded gently, his eyes never leaving mine.
I thought about it for one more second, and then I slowly unbuttoned my white dress shirt. He watched me hungrily, his gaze intent like I wasn’t wearing my work uniform. I pulled the crisp fabric down off my shoulders, exposing the simple lines of my plain white bra.
Then, meeting his gaze, I slipped one bra strap off my shoulders, then the other. I released the latch and let the bra fall from my body onto the ice, enjoying the way his eyes lit on my breasts, watching me greedily. I shivered as the cold air hit my nipples. Jack’s cock strained at the front of his sweatpants he’d thrown on after his shower.
“Now your pants,” Jack ordered.
I toed my shoes off and then slid my pants slowly over my hips before stepping out of them. As I stood there in my underwear…and socks, feeling exposed and vulnerable, completely conscious of every curve, Jack stared at me as if I were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Don’t you ever drop my jersey again,” Jack chided me as he stepped forward. “You’re mine, Kennedy. You’re going to learn that.”
Man, these men with their “mine” comments.
Except, I found that I didn’t hate it. Not really.
Because before I’d met them, I’d been a girl that didn’t belong to anyone. And now I suddenly belonged to four of them.
Well,theywanted me to belong to them.
I happened to still be very much on the fence about it all.
Or at least I was telling myself that.
“Yes, sir,” I said saucily, mostly because I had a feeling I knew how he would respond. Heat flared in his eyes as if he had loved the sound of that.
Jack draped the jersey over my body. The familiar scent of him enveloped me, and I let out a sigh of pleasure.
"Beautiful," he murmured, drinking me in. Then he knelt at my feet onto the ice, his hands trailing up my legs. I shivered again, but this time it wasn’t from the cold, it was because of the lust coursing through me as I stared down at the gorgeous god-like specimen on his knees…for me.
