Chapter Three
Chapter Three
M y mate doesn’t want me. The same thought has been circling in my head since she turned me down for dinner. Now, it’s nearly midnight, and the last stragglers from the early admission meet-and-greet are leaving.
Fia doesn’t want me. My mate doesn’t want me.
If that’s the case, she isn’t your mate. That’s the sage advice my father always gave me about women. Right now, that doesn’t seem to matter to me.
Try to focus on something else. This was a fluke meeting. No one gets their celebrity crushes. That’s perfect world, living fantasy stuff.
As the night wraps up, I do my round of fan events, spirits lifting slightly at the genuine enthusiasm I see from many people. So many hockey lovers are here!
That’s it, idiot.
She doesn’t like you. She likes hockey.
How could you think she’d want a monster like you? What’s worse, I don’t know what she sees when she looks at you, but it’s probably something ugly. You’re a shaggy, hunching, oversized furball. She’s literally a model, a sex symbol. What the puck-to-the-head were you thinking?!
“You’re in deep shit.”
I finish signing an autograph for a family of Pine Ridge season ticket holders that I recognize from their frequent attendance at our games. I glare at the Orc for using profanity in front of the three boys and the little girl standing beside their mom and dad with too-excited-to-sleep faces. “Thanks for coming all the way out here, folks,” I smile.
“We’re staying for the whole con! Camping out in a buddy’s RV,” the dad says, smiles, and takes off, herding his kids in front of him.
“What is it? And remember, no potty mouth in front of little guys.”
“You’re as lily white as your fur, aren’t ya?” King snorts.
I think of standing behind a bent-over Fia, watching her pussy strain and stretch wide to take my thick ice-gray cock, sliding home over her panting screams.
If only you could see inside my head, King. Out loud, I say, “Lily white. Sure. Why am I in trouble?”
“Sam went to Coach and said you cut his time with the photographer short because he’s a recent transfer and you’re not showing team spirit.”
I groan. Coach Torrey is way too nice to be a hockey coach, honestly. He treats the team like family, and doing crappy stuff to someone on the team is one of two ways to get on his bad side. The other is usually reserved for refs. “He has to know I wouldn’t do that!”
“He has to at least look into it, and Torrey told Grendel he’d make sure he got a picture retake first thing tomorrow morning. I know, because Grendel is strutting around bragging that he’s going to get alone time with the camera cutie.”
I see red. Literal red. The world narrows down to a red haze and the sound of heartbeats and blood rushing through veins. Mine. King’s. Random people walking past.
“Bry?”
The noise that I make isn’t one I choose. It’s part of the primitive “hunt, kill, mate, survive” package that comes with great cold weather endurance and a need for extra strength detangler. “No.”
“Um… Maybe you should go see Coach? Or Fia?”
I stomp away. If I find Grendel first, he’s going to get his dick ripped off. If I find Fia first…
The red haze cools. Well. I don’t know what will happen.
I know what I want to happen.
The images in my head stop me in my tracks because they seem so real. Her much smaller body crushed against mine. Her naked smoothness against my fur. Tight little slit, all deliciously brown and pink, parted on my tongue—and then wrapped around my cock until I feel her belly bulge against mine as I rut against her.
Oh, hell, no. That can’t happen. But I can warn her that Grendel is trying something shady and tell her to insist on Coach sticking around. Or she can refuse and tell the coach that Grendel was being a total slimy prick.
Yes. That’s all that’ll happen. Just some friendly, helpful information.
I curl my fists. That’s all I can let happen. Fia doesn’t want me, even if I want her so badly I can’t see straight.
I’m surprised to see that there are a bunch of RVs and campers now parked in the spots next to mine. A lot of them are surrounded by people grilling and drinking.
Ughhh. I just want to go to bed. It’s after midnight.
I know there’s no way I’m going to sleep, though, not without satisfying myself first.
I hurry into my RV, shivering and slinging my camera bags and equipment down with far less care than usual. People don’t realize how hard it is to heat an RV when the key isn’t in the ignition. I flip on the generator and turn on my small space heater, nerves unduly irritated by the loud, grating sound. Usually, I can tune it out. Tonight, I just want to hear the sound of my soaking slit as my thickest dildo slips in and out of me, paired with the sensual purr of its vibrating sensation.
I’ll get up early tomorrow and edit the pictures. I’ll shower when I’m done getting thoroughly messy…
Bryce’s face dances before my eyes—and in the small side windows as I secure my heavy thermal curtains.
I shriek and throw something—the keys I still have in my hand. Good job, Fia. Glad you took those self-defense classes during college…
“I’m sorry, Miss Carvahlo. I have something to tell you. Would you mind opening the window?” Bryce steps back, hands in his pocket, a tense look on his face. His voice is muffled through the glass and he looks kind of fuzzy. Furry.
I hurry to the door and keep most of my body on the inside, ready to slam it if he tries to muscle his way in—but I don’t think he will. “Hi, Mr. Frobisher. What’s up?”
“Call me, Bryce, please. If you want. Uh, do you remember Sam Grendel?”
“The douchebag?” I say, pushing the door wider, guard dropping.
“Yeah, that’s an accurate description, I guess. So, he was mad that I kicked him out of your booth.”
“He was done. There was no ‘kicking out.’ Most people know to leave when the photographer stops using her camera.”
Bryce nods. “He might have had a few concussions in his time.”
I shake my head. “Don’t try to excuse him. I’m not judging you or your team based on that creep.”
“Thank you so much,” Bryce looks relieved, his dark, intense eyes sparkling at me, his semi-stooped posture relaxing, straightening.
Sweet Mother of Heaven… He fills the entire doorway of the RV—and he’s on the ground, not even on the fold-down step… I swallow, mouth dry and pussy so wet that I bless the darkness and my choice of black denim jeans that will probably hide my guilt if desire starts dripping down my thighs.
“You really didn’t have to come here and apologize again.” I tuck a curl behind my ear.
Are you flirting? Like a giggly teenager? You already said no when he asked you out to dinner!
That was three hours and four thousand impure thoughts ago. If he asked me to dinner right now, I’d spread myself open like a clamshell and tell him I hope he likes to eat out.
“Oh, I didn’t come here to apologize! I mean, of course, I do apologize, and I apologize for disturbing you, too,” his deep voice breaks out in a stammer. “But I came to let you know that Grendel told the coach of our team that I ruined his photoshoot, and he intends to ask for another one tomorrow morning. I don’t think Sam would physically harm anyone—I hope—but I think he crossed a line with how he spoke to you. I think you should refuse the shoot and show the coach the pictures you already have. There was nothing wrong with them. Sam just wants to throw his weight around and spend more time with a beautiful, talented woman.” Bryce concludes, his breath making a soft fog between us in the freezing cold air.
A sudden gust of cold air makes me shiver and rub my arms. It’s not just the air that makes me shudder. It’s also the disgust.
Bryce whips off his quilted satin Lumberjacks’ jacket and flings it over my shoulders with a frown. “Miss Carvahlo, it’s frigid in here! You can’t sleep out here like this! Didn’t the convention pay for a room?”
“It’s not that bad—or it won’t be once the space heater starts and I shut the door. I’m used to it.”
“I wish you’d come to my room,” Bryce murmurs in a wistful, almost mournful tone. Bryce’s eyes go comically wide as he realizes what he’s said. “Because it’s warm!”
I can’t help it. This ice giant, with his lethal grace on the ice, is like a big teddy bear off of it. Whatever little guard I had up drops completely at his mortified look. “I’m starving,” I say with a sigh. “You look like you always have an appetite.”
For a moment, there’s a flash of glistening, sharp teeth, and the stars catch dark depths in his eyes. “I’m incredibly hungry right now,” he replies, his voice thicker and suddenly smooth.
This time, my shiver has nothing to do with the cold. “There’s probably nothing open this late at night…” I lead.
“The hotel has room service around the clock. Will you be my guest?” Bryce holds out his hand in a gallant gesture, then snatches it back with a bashful chuckle. “Sorry. That sounded so formal. As if a beauty like you would ever want a beast like me.”
“What?” I exclaim, patting my jeans with one hand and snatching his with the other. “Phone, wallet. I need to grab my keys.” I don’t let go of his hand. It’s huge . It folds over mine and completely hides it. “What do you mean, a beast like you?”
“Well…” He shrugs, reluctantly letting me go retrieve my keys.
When I come back, I put my hands on my hips. “I’m a total hockey groupie, you know. Beasts like you are essential to the sport. As for beauty? Well, my modeling days are over for a reason.” I flutter my fingers against the tiny wrinkles forming around my eyes and the fine lines just beginning on my brow.
Bryce grunts and practically carries me down the step. I keep a hold of his hand as we begin to walk, noticing that even the back of his hand is covered with that thick, silky hair.
Odd.
But I like it.