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Tasting her, kissing her, coming thanks to a pretty girl—it loosened some of the pressure that’s been building in me for months. “Sorry,” I mutter. I need to escape before I make a real ass of myself. Like argue with her a bit more, or even worse, kiss her. I still very much want to do that; the fact she’s Ryder’s daughter hasn’t magically erased the attraction I’m feeling.
It sounds ridiculous even in my head, but I’m almost certain that hooking up with Penny brought back my game. I have the feeling that if I tried to chat up a girl right now, she’d be more than willing to entertain my proposition. It’s like I had a lock on my junk, and Penny helped me jimmy it open.
I’m still thinking about Red—Penny—and what the fuck just happened. It was incredible, but now that I know it was Penny Ryder I ate out in a fucking storage closet . . . I just need to trust she has no interest in her father finding out. He’d chain me to the ice and make me the first official death-by-Zamboni murder victim.
The only reason it felt so good was because it had been ages since I kissed a girl, much less tasted pussy. Now that my game is back, soon she’ll be a distant memory.
It was clear by the way she reacted, how I had to walk her through jerking me off, that she’s not very experienced, so why the hell did she decide to have a hookup in a closet in the first place? I know I’m good looking, but even my ego isn’t big enough to think I thrust her into some sort of heat, like a cat.
“Was it good?” he asks when we finally keep walking. “Really fucking good.” I groan at the thought of all that long, orange-red hair. Not to mention the freckles. Penny even has freckles on her legs, which turned me on an unfair amount. Pretty soon, I’m going to need to put a gag order on myself: no thinking about Penelope Ryder.
But the whole time, I’m fighting to get Penny out of my mind. I’ve never seen her at a game before, which now that I think of it is sort of odd, considering her father is our coach. It’s possible that I just haven’t noticed her, but she’s so striking that I don’t know why I wouldn’t. Even though she wished me good luck on tomorrow’s game, I don’t think I’m going to see her there.
I also feel fantastic, yet incredibly guilty; a million emotions crowding in on each other. If I’d known that Cooper had no clue who I was, I never would have put him in such an awkward position. In the end, he didn’t seem too angry, but that doesn’t erase the fact it was shitty.
Mia hits my shoulder lightly. Her smile is wider than it has any right to be. “Look at you, being a total bad bitch. You came, right?” “Yes.” And it was the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life, although I don’t add that part. I haven’t had anything but a toy inside me since Preston.
Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t just sweet. I may have sent the first domino falling when I asked him to hook up in the first place, but he deftly took over. He knew exactly what he was doing and wanted to give it to me—if I was a good girl for him.
I have no idea if he’s like that with every girl he hooks up with, but it pushed my buttons in just the right way. If it wasn’t for how it ended, it would have been perfect.
Or who knows, maybe he’ll have a pair of incredible games this weekend and my dad will just name him the captain. I don’t know who else is in the running, but there’s no doubt, after watching Cooper on the ice, that hockey is the chief love in his life.
“Okay, fine. But we’re not doing anything weird that might get back to my dad. You know he’d flip out.” Mia kisses my cheek. “Hell. Yes. Let’s keep getting you laid.”
The first goal of the season? Mine, with an assist from Evan. I’m a defenseman and don’t get many scoring chances, thanks to my position, so each goal means even more. I can’t control my grin as we resume play. I can’t wait to hear what Coach has to say when the game ends.
A flash of orange hair. Penny? No, some other girl. I shake my head, willing the disappointment away. The less I think about her, the faster I’ll forget her.
Whatever the hell allowed me to get into the zone—Ryder’s lecture, or the skating class, or even my hookup with Penny—I’m grateful for it. I haven’t felt this good about my play since early last season.
There’s a game tomorrow, sure, but tonight? I’m using the end of my hookup curse to huddle up with a puck bunny or two . . . and to get Little Miss Red Ryder-hood out of my head.
Penny. This time it really is her; she’s looking hot as fuck in a tight sweater dress and tall boots, her hair half-up, half-down, braids framing her face like a crown. She’s hanging on the arm of some random fucking guy, letting him push her up against the wall as she laughs with a cute snort.
I can’t breathe for a second. I thought I was on edge before, but now I’m on the verge of fucking losing it. I wish I could rip the image of her in that dress out of my mind. Or save it for later, but without that prick in the picture.
Her eyes widen as she notices me, and something shifts in her expression as she takes in the scene; Victoria hanging over Izzy, and Izzy hanging over me. She definitely doesn’t know that Izzy’s my sister. I don’t recognize the guy, but my g...
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I have no claim to her. In fact, I actively try to avoid having a claim over any girls at all, especially when their last name is Ryder. But something about seeing her with another guy makes my chest hurt, and when I swallow, it’s like I have a bone stuck in my throat.
It’s not the smoothest way I could put it, but right now, I don’t need smooth; I have the advantages of a sexy outfit and the inhibitions of the party.
He flicks his gaze down to my cleavage. There’s not much to see, but my push-up bra helps, and my plum-colored sweater dress clings to my hips nicely. Paired with sheer tights and my thigh-high leather boots, I know I look like a snack.
I have no idea if it was him, or the fact we were in a closet where technically anyone could walk in, or just that I finally did something with a real guy after years and diminishing returns on orgasms, but I feel more confident. More like the girl I always wanted to be, and maybe who I was on the way to becoming back before Preston shattered everything.
“Callahan,” I say. I have no idea where I’m going with this. What do I even want? All I know is that if he kisses either of those girls in front of me, it’ll hurt worse than wiping out while attempting a triple axel.
“Does your date have an overactive gag reflex or something, Red?” I ignore the nickname and stalk over to the closet. Maybe there’s something in here we can use to clean him up. “He wasn’t my date.”
“Looked like you were about to get something going.” I pull out a towel and toss it to him. “Not your business.” “He looked like a prick.”
“No, he was . . .” I sigh, unable to fake any interest. “Fine, yes, he was a bit of an ass. But whatever, I just wanted to blow him.” He blinks. “We’re going to unpack that later.” “We?”
“Unless you want to go track down that weasel.” “You’re terrible,” I say, even as I take Izzy’s arm. “You don’t even know him.” “And you do?”
“Is this your idea of flirting?” Izzy mumbles to her brother as we head out of the room, her friend on our heels. “You’re terrible at it.” “We’re not flirting,” I say with a scowl. “Cooper doesn’t know how to flirt.” “Neither do you,” he shoots back. That hurts more than it should, so I keep my mouth shut and focus on not falling down the stairs in my heels.
Sebastian’s gaze flickers to the stairs before settling on me once more. “You should have told him who you were beforehand.” I swallow. He doesn’t even sound all that upset, but the words chastise me all the same. “I didn’t know.” “When the consequences only go one way, you make sure.”
What better way to remind my father of the version of me who forced us out of Arizona than recklessly getting involved with another hockey player? His hockey player?
I’ve tried not to stare at her too much, but it’s hard with that dress she’s wearing. It clings to her ass deliciously, and the neckline, combined with her bra, is doing its best to remind me that when we hooked up, I didn’t even get to see her tits.
Now we’re here, and weirdly, I’d rather be standing in this hallway with her than back at the party with any number of girls, and that odd ache in my chest still won’t kick the bucket.
What are you studying, anyway? That’s an academic word if I’ve ever heard one.” “English.” I step into the room. It’s actually a small suite, two separate bedrooms instead of one. I suppose being a staff member’s daughter has advantages beyond free tuition. “I’ve spent most of my college career unpacking.”
“I know we don’t really know each other,” I say abruptly. “But what are you doing, hooking up with random guys?” She just raises her eyebrows as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Why do you care? Ours was a one-time deal, as I remember. And he wasn’t random.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t do what you want to do, and I’d never call a girl that. I’m just worried, okay? I don’t know, you seem pretty inexperienced. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Her cheeks are flushed dark red. “Fuck you, Callahan.”
I stare down at it. It’s a list, clearly, simply labeled The List, but instead of a list of normal fucking things like groceries or movies or hockey stats, I see words like spanking and public sex and anal. For some reason, regular old vaginal sex is last on the list. The first item, Oral Sex (Receiving), is crossed off.
“What is this, a sex bucket list or something?” She tries to snatch the notebook, but I hold it over her head. She jumps for it, so I step back, taking another peek at the list. I nearly choke when I see Orgasm Denial and Double Penetration.
“This is kinky, Red.” She huffs. “It’s not like I’m dying.” “Then what is it? Have you even done any of this? Besides the first, of course.”
“This isn’t about getting a boyfriend. This is about me. It’s about being in control of my own life.” She looks up at me, that fierce light in her eyes, like she’s daring me to laugh in her face. “And I’m not planning on doing all this with anyone I’d ever consider dating.”
Her assessment of the situation shouldn’t hurt, but it does. If I wanted to be in a relationship with someone, I totally could, I just haven’t wanted to tie myself down.
I’m not James, who took his fucking fifth-grade girlfriend seriously. My priority has been fun, but there’s a difference between not wanting to be in a relationship and not being boyfriend material. I’d be a fantastic fucking boyfriend if I wanted that.
“I know,” she says. “But I want it.” I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with a girl about sex that got this detailed without ending in us doing the nasty, but I try to push past the awkwardness for her sake. “All of that stuff is fun,” I admit. “You have good taste.”
If we’re talking kinks, then fine, I’ll be honest. She saw a taste of it when we hooked up in the closet, after all. I like sex, so I’m not always all that particular, but nothing gets my dick harder than seeing a girl trust me with her pleasure, even if it’s only for a night.
Praising her, rewarding her, pushing her until she goes somewhere she’s never gone before—Penny doesn’t know this, but I’ve introduced a fair number of girls to anal—is when I’m in my element the most.
Ironically, I’d be a good choice of partner for her list if she wanted to stick with one guy all the way through, but that can’t happen. Even if I can’t rid myself of the memory of the soft noises she made, or if I want nothing mo...
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She runs her fingers through the ends of her hair, her head still cocked to the side. She takes a step forward, the ghost of a smile on her face. “Take me through The List. I’ll get what I want, and it’ll help your game. Playing like that, you’ll be captain in no time.”
Tempting, but impossible. There’s a litany of reasons it wouldn’t work, and at the very top of the list is one Lawrence Ryder. If he ever finds out about our seven minutes in heaven–style hookup, I’m toast, but if he learns that I’ve been sneaking around with his daughter repeatedly, I’ll find myself selling skates in Dick’s Sporting Goods for a living after graduation. And that’s if I’m still breathing.
Even though it’s ridiculous, she has a point; I played better than I had in ages. I look over my shoulder. Part of me desperately wants to say yes, if only for the chance to kiss her again, but I’d be playing a dangerous game. When a hookup goes on for too long, feelings inevitably get involved.
