Stand and Defend (Lakes Hockey, #4)

by Sloane St. James

To my readers⁠— May you find your inner villain, and a partner worth taming it for.

Most people marry for love—and most divorces happen within five years. Love is overrated. Life is meant to be filled with hobbies, like traveling, Netflix, and reading. When it comes to love, the book is always better.

Stirring up shit on the ice is my specialty.

I’m done starting fights. From now on, I only finish them.

women love fucking the captain.

Asking permission has never been a good color on me. Rebellion brings out the hazel in my eyes.

Jordana looks . . . tempting, it’s a struggle to maintain eye contact. She’s like a curvier Blake Lively. Everyone expects me to look, this time though, she’s my best friends fucking fiancée—I’ll keep my eyes up.

If I screamed, would anyone even hear me?

“You play hard, you party hard, and you⁠—” “Fuck hard?” “And you’re a womanizer. Just because I was in a committed relationship, doesn’t mean I can’t spot a fuckboy. You’re not coming near my vagina.” “I could come on your back if that works better?”

“Well, that’s good, because I only take home good girls who ask nicely.”

“Try doing it with seven bars in your cock,” I growl, submerging. “Acts like a fuckin’ heatsink.” “Hard pass. How do you jack off with that shit? Your dick looks like Inspector Gadget.” “Very happily.” I love my ladder, and so do all the women that climb it.

Pity? No, that’s not it. Maybe because my brain gets off on breaking pretty things.

I’m no stranger to pretty girls, but Jordan has me in a trance.

Is she as innocent as she appears, and more importantly, could I corrupt her? I want to see her pretty and depraved.

“Sorry . . . I don’t know what happened,” she stammers. The kiss of my life happened.

Kissing Jordan was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and I’ve experienced a lot. None have made me feel what I did with her.

Some kisses you always remember: your first kiss, your first hot-and-heavy kiss, the kiss from your first love, and the one from Camden Teller. Dear god, no wonder women flock to him.

Cam: You’re a good kisser. Is he still thinking about it too? Me: Not my type. Cam: You are so full of shit. Me: Goodnight Teller.

Being a villain sounds like more fun than being a victim.

“If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you going to love somebody else?”

Fucking sue me. A built, tatted up, hot-as-hell hockey player—you’re telling me you wouldn’t look at his giant pierced penis?

I’m an absolute slut for a backward ballcap.

I’m surprised I didn’t see a sticker on his dick earlier that read WARNING: ADVANCED COCK. NOT FOR BEGINNERS. FUCK AT YOUR OWN RISK.

“Oh, Sunshine, I love messes. I’ll take care of you. Promise.”

“Stop being prim and proper and show me what a filthy slut you are when nobody’s looking.”

“Everyone thinks you’re so demure, graceful, and elegant. Do you have any idea how fucking sexy it is to watch the sophisticated Jordana Landry transform into my perfect cum slut?”

This woman’s got an ass built for back shots but a face made for missionary.

Jesus Christ, after all this, I don’t know whether to kill Bryan or thank him for letting me show her how it should be. I want to erase every memory of him from her mind and body.

She’s like every wet dream coming true.

She grabs my wrists, and I pull her up and spit into her surprised mouth before dropping her back down. Her fingers press to her chest. “I can’t believe you did that,” she says, almost laughing. I chuckle, sliding between her legs again. “Did you like it?” “I shouldn’t like it.” “Nobody gets to tell you what you should or shouldn’t enjoy.”

She’s exciting. I know after the first thrust, once will never be enough with her.

“But when you tilt your head up like that for me, I know you’d rather wear my hand around your neck than anything from Harry Winston. You need someone to worship and fuck you the way you deserve. Because deep down, you’re a needy little whore, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I should tattoo a diamond necklace on the back of my hand . . . that way I can dress you up whenever I want.”

He’s not my type. He’s not my type. He’s not my type.

No problem. I fuck harder when you’re watching me, thought I’d see if it works for playing hockey too.

Because if you weren’t, I’d rip off your clothes later and punish you for being so snarky with me before a game. Me: Promises, promises . . . Cam: I keep my promises. I’ll push your face into the pillow and make you mine if you’re not careful.

“It’s special to me. Kinda like you.”

“Maybe she’s his lucky charm . . .” she says to the group. “Nah, if anything, it’s his first goal jersey.” I pluck the thick material. All three stare at me. “What?” Do I have something on my face? “He gave you that jersey?” Micky asks. Raleigh points at what I’m wearing. “That’s his first goal jersey?” “He didn’t give it to me. It’s just to borrow for the game,” I explain. “Oh girl. Come on.” Birdie’s mouth tips up on one side as she smirks at me. “No, it’s not like that.” I shake my head adamantly. “No, girl it is that. Plain and simple,”

Seeing her in my shirts at home is one thing. It makes me want to fuck her. But seeing my name across her back? It makes me possessive. Makes me want to keep her.

I like who she is as a person, and she’s so effortless to be around. In fact, she’s one of my favorite people.

I’d never let just any girl wear my first game jersey, but today was going to be a big day for her, and I wanted her to wear something meaningful—I just didn’t realize how meaningful it would be for me to see her in it.

Jordan was in the stands wearing my jersey and I got a hat trick. I kissed her because I wanted to, and I don’t regret it.

Jonesy cuts in. “The slut comes home to roost!”

“Where did you meet?” Rhys asks. “Remember that wedding I was the best man in?” “Ohhh, shit, Banksy bagged himself a bridesmaid!” Shep shouts. I shake my head and smirk. “She’s the bride.”

Cam drags his hand from me, wipes it across my thigh, then shakes Sully’s hand with it. Is he deranged!?

“If she’s your fiancée—” He laughs. “Then why was I the one kissing her on your wedding day? And fucking her on your wedding night?”

“I’m sorry if I scared you, but the thought of him getting close to you terrifies me. I need to know you’re safe.”

“You know that rush when I first push inside you?” I nod as he thrusts. It’s my favorite. “That is worth fighting for. It’s worth bloody knuckles. I will never make you feel the way he did. I will never try to control you or own you. But when my cock is inside you . . . I can’t help but feel like you’re mine.”

“You wear my cum beautifully.”

“It’s about this hockey player who⁠—” “A hockey player!” I almost can’t contain my laughter. “Why are you reading about it when you could have the real thing?”