Breakaway (Beyond the Play #2)

by Grace Reilly

If the stories are to be believed and he really is generous in bed, not a hotshot player who takes his own pleasure and leaves the woman hanging, that already gives him a leg up on half the guys I was considering on Tinder last night.

Under normal circumstances, this level of attention from a guy would send me running, but even though my heart is pounding like it’s an entire freakin’ drumline, I don’t hate it. I’m not sure why he’s acting like he doesn’t know I’m his coach’s daughter, but if he wants to pretend, I’m content to let him. It makes things easier.

He catches up to me easily. His hand splays out on my waist, drawing me closer. He has a bright look in his eyes, almost boyish with excitement. He probably thinks I’m a total vixen who does this all the time. The truth couldn’t be further from that, but what’s the harm in pretending?

He just said that he never gets with the same girl twice. He’d never talk about it because I’m his coach’s daughter. This is as safe as a hookup can get.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He glances around to check we’re alone before leaning in, his mouth a mere inch from mine. So close to a kiss, yet so far. “Come on, sweetheart. Show me.”

I know I could be smarter about this than choosing a guy on my dad’s team for my first hookup, but it’s not like he’s ever going to find out. And well . . . hockey players have always been my type.

He catches my palm in his, squeezing. “This is your show, Red,” he says. “What do you want to do?” I gather all my courage and lean up to press a kiss to his lips. For half a second, he doesn’t respond, but then he wraps his arms around me, dragging me closer, his mouth hungrily exploring mine.

I gasp at the scratch of his beard against my skin. He bites my lower lip, sucking gently. When I need air, I barely take in a full breath before kissing him again.

It’s been years since someone has kissed me, and I knew I missed it, but not quite how much, until now. I like having a guy pressed up against me, his b...

Maybe it’s his reputation for being a player; I can’t be the first girl to proposition him with an agenda in mind. Whatever it is, I know, instinctively, that he’s going to give me a good time, and I hope I can do the same for him.

“You want me on my knees?” “I’ve heard you’re generous.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb, then presses it right against my lips. I bite down gently, pleased to see the heat in his gaze. “So I’ve been told.”

Part of me wants to pull up my pants and flee before he sees me, but the larger part wants to stay rooted to the spot just like this, allowing Cooper Callahan to explore my body. Eventually, he inches down my panties bit by bit, like he’s unwrapping a gift he knows is going to be good.

I can feel my wetness, know he’ll be able to see it the moment my panties are off all the way. When they join my leggings around my ankles, he kisses me again, this time against my bare skin. I dig my nails into his shoulder, surprised to feel his beard against such a sensitive place.

“Because I can tell,” he continues. “You need it bad. I need it bad too, sweetheart. My cock is fucking aching just looking at your gorgeous pussy. But I work best when I know my girl trusts me to take care of her.”

As he talks, he strokes my thighs. He’s close enough I can feel his breath against my skin, and it makes my belly tighten with want. I find his hair, gripping a handful and tugging; I wish he’d just press right up against my folds and suck my clit until the slick coats my thighs.

Do I trust him? Not with my life, but right here, like this? Maybe I shouldn’t, maybe it’s stupid, but I do.

“I want . . .” My voice fades before I can force out the words. “Go on,” he prompts. “Tell me you want to be my good girl. Let me give you what you asked for.”

My face burns as red as my hair. I’ve fantasized for years about someone calling me their good girl, and now it’s finally happening. He has no idea what he’s giving me right now. How much this moment means to me.

I tug on his hair harder. “Yes. I want . . . I want to be your good girl.” He spreads my legs wide, his hands stroking my inner thighs, ...

He starts at the top of my folds, pressing light kisses to my skin, dragging his beard against it. I’m moaning softly all the while; even that relatively innocent touch is winding me up. He drags his mouth...

But then he winds his arms around my legs and spreads me even wider, licking right over my hole, and he drags a gasp out of me. He finds my clit next, lapping at it before su...

He clearly knows what he’s doing, teasing the little bud until I’m moving against his face, desperate for more contact. He breaks away, laughing, p...

“You taste delicious,” he says. “Fuck, I could stay just like this for hours.” That must be a line he uses on every girl, but it works. I grind against him, aching for more contact.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper. “’Course not,” he says. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” He fucks into me with his tongue, no doubt getting his mouth and beard messy with slick, and uses a finger on my clit instead, making me rock my hips forward, hoping for more friction.

His other hand goes to my ass, squeezing firmly, drawing out a moan that has me throwing my ...

Each lick, each touch, brings me closer to the peak of pleasure, but even moving against him, I’m not there. I need something more. I grip his hair so tightly it m...

“That’s it,” he says right against me. The vibrations of his voice have me gasping. “Ride my fa...

Is that me? In this moment, yes. I haven’t allowed myself to do anything like this since I was sixteen, hoping for a deeper connection...

Cooper has coaxed out the side of me that I keep locked down tight. Maybe I was more desperate for a change than I ...

The thought just makes me press against him more firmly, tugging his hair to move his head where I want it. He goes along, licking and sucking everywhere he can reach. My stomach tightens like it’s caught in a vise. I moan aloud, the sounds pourin...

Maybe he’s got a thing for stick-thin girls with hair the color of carrots. Maybe he just really likes eating pussy. Maybe he’d be looking at any girl like this, worshipful, almost gentle in the way he blinks his storm-blue eyes.

“You’re almost there,” he says; his mouth is wet with my slick, his beard soaking. He licks his lips. “Be good and let me finish my meal.” He doesn’t stop, or tease, or even come up for air; he breathes right against my cunt, letting his nose bump my clit as he laps at my skin.

This girl is a goddess. I’ve loved sex ever since my first time, a fumbled hookup in a closet not unlike this one. I felt accomplished as fuck, hearing Emma Cotham’s moans as I moved inside her. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a proper hookup, but I wasn’t prepared for how satisfied this would leave me.

As I kiss Red, I can feel my almost painful hard-on straining against my jeans, sure, but I can’t stop smiling. She made the sweetest little noises. I know I don’t really know her, but at least right now, she seems like the kind of woman I like best—adorable and easy to overwhelm, yet fiery and full of spirit. The moment she dangled the offer of a hookup in front of me, I had the feeling it would lead somewhere good.

“Thank you,” I murmur. I don’t even know if she believed me when I said I was in a dry spell. Even if she did, she doesn’t know quite how much I’ve needed this. I’m grateful anyway. This was better than a hard w...

She kisses me back, but then she pulls away. She gives my cock an experimental tug that has my stomach clenching, but doesn’t take it further. “I have a confession,” she says abruptly. “I haven’t . . . done this . . . in a long time.”

I take pity on her and wrap my hand around hers. I press a kiss to her forehead. I move our hands together, thumbing at the head of my cock, twisting slightly in the way that never fails to make my breath hitch. She follows along, using her other hand to cup my balls. They’re aching already, and her touch sparks another, deeper level of desire.

We’re quiet except for our breathing, still pressed up against the wall of this tiny space. I’ve never minded getting dirty in the name of sex, especially when it holds a hint of the forbidden.

Despite the dusty, cramped surroundings, I’d rather be here than anywhere else. Tasting Red on my tongue, watching her brow furrow as she learns what movements make me moan. When I get close, feeling that familiar tug in ...

We jerk me the rest of the way together. I come groaning her name. Not Red, but her real name, Penny. Our hands get sticky with my seed, and before I can offer my shirt as a wipe, she lifts her hand to her mouth and licks it clean.

I think my brain short-circuits, seeing her cute pink tongue working over her delicate fingers, and then it absolutely fries when she moves on to my hand, taking each of my fingers into her mouth and licking away the rest of the come.

She ends with kissing me, the same as I did for her when I got up from my knees. When she pulls away, I just keep staring at her, even as I pull my pants back up and tuck myself away. She tugs up her leggings, then runs bo...

I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I don’t do repeat hookups; I’ve only done it a few times, over the years, and they almost always edged into complicated before I could break things off. Once I almost broke poor Sebby’s heart. But if we’re going to be teaching this class together, it can’t hurt to have her contact information.

I’m shaking my head before she even finishes her sentence. “I wouldn’t forget you.” “Oh, spare me,” she snaps. She slaps the phone into my palm. “I’m not planning on telling my father, in case you’re worried about that.”

I glance down at my phone as her words hit me. Penny Ryder, it says. Ryder. As in . . . “Oh, fucking hell,” I say. The words come out strangled. I kept thinking that she looked familiar because I’ve seen the photograph of her on her father’s desk dozens of times.

The red hair might be all hers, but the eyes sure as hell aren’t. He’s mentioned before that his daughter goes to McKee, and why wouldn’t the daughter of...

I don’t know her, but she wears her emotions on her face like a brand. It’s a pretty face, too, one I can’t stop staring at, even now. It’s clear that she really thought I knew her, but I don’t like what that implies either. Why would she want to hook up with one of her father’s guys, anyway? And why me?

She said she knew about my reputation. I’ve never been ashamed about being a player; I’m upfront with everyone I hook up with and who the hell cares that I love sex, but now? It’s like she chose me because she knows I’m easy, and whatever her motives, this could fuck up everything for me.

Nothing screams serious captain material like hooking up with the coach’s daughter in a goddamn storage closet. And if my dad gets wind o...

“I’m trying to make captain.” I can’t help it, I take a step closer, although my hand is still curled around the doorframe. “If your daddy dearest finds out, I’m screwed. I’m already stuck doing this stupid volunteer thing with you. He’ll bury me so far down the roster I’ll never make the NHL.”