In the Game (Lakes Hockey, #3)

by Sloane St. James

Good feelings come from dicks, not dinner.

“Let go of the bed, Raleigh.” “No.” “How the fuck can you grind against my face if you’re hovering above me?” “Come on, don’t. I’ll suffocate you.” Bullshit. If I die with her on top, it’ll be from drowning, not suffocation.

“What do you need, love?” His voice is low and growly and suddenly I don’t care about responsibilities or packing up clothes or any of the other things I’m supposed to be doing. A slow smile forms on my lips. “I’m bored… Play with me.”

“Spit on me again,” I beg. The first time, I only heard it, this time I want to see it too. With perfect accuracy and total dominance, he does, looking down at me with darkened eyes. I feel like his personal toy, and relish the idea of being used. Fuck yeah, it’s on.