Pucking Dirty (Pucked Up Love #1)

Chapter Two

Nash

" H oly shit," Logan says, a bark of laughter erupting from his lips as we sit at our usual booth at the back of the Players' Club on one of the upper levels of the arena. "The lizard dick chick is here."

"Fuck," I mumble, sloshing beer across the table as I glance up, immediately doing a sweep of the bar. I fling the sticky liquid off, my dick turning to stone when I spot Emilia practically dancing her way across the room toward the bar, her dimples on full display as she laughs to herself.

Jesus H. Christ, she's gorgeous.

Her black hair is pinned up on top of her head with pieces hanging free around her heart-shaped face. Dark, sooty lashes frame her stunning gold eyes. Her soft blue sweater dress skims her body, hinting at the lush curves I had beneath my hands just one week ago.

I've thought of little but those curves and those dimples since. As soon as I walked out of the shower and saw her standing in the locker room, my goddamn heart stopped. I can't even explain what happened. I just know I wanted her away from my teammates and all to myself, pronto.

"The lizard dick chick? What the fuck, Logan?" Archer shakes his head in disgust. "She has a name."

Logan smirks at him, throwing an arm over the back of the leather booth. "Yeah, but lizard dick chick is more fun to say."

"Says the motherfucker who spends half of his life talking to himself in a net," Jordan mutters.

"The conversation in that net is scintillating, bitch." Logan flips him off, earning a grunt from Jordan. "And scintillating doesn't mean it smells like your sweaty balls, in case you were wondering. I know big words are hard for you and shit."

"Man, fuck you." Jordan takes a pull from his beer as he side-eyes Logan. "Why the fuck couldn't we trade for Dacen Reaper instead of you?"

"Because they pay your big ass too much and couldn't afford him." Logan bats his lashes at Jordan. Like me, Logan is new to the team. He played for the Predators for years, but something happened with his sister. He's incredibly tight-lipped about the details, but it prompted his move here. "You're stuck with me instead. Suck it up, buttercup."

Jordan cracks a smile, shaking his head.

I go back to staring at Emilia. She stops halfway across the bar to talk to Alice Madison, our publicist. Judging by the way they hug it out and then start talking with their hands, they've got a lot to say. I lean closer…like that's going to help me hear over my loud fucking teammates.

Jesus. Do they ever shut the fuck up?

No. The answer is no.

"She's really Lariat's kid?" Diego asks from beside me.

"Yes," I growl, turning to glower at him. I send the same warning look to everyone else at the table. "That means hands off. Coach will rip your balls off and feed them to you." And by coach , I mean me, but I leave that part out.

"Damn. What did Lariat say to you in his office the other day?" Logan asks, one brow quirked. "He's got your big ass out here defending her honor like she's your kid."

"Nothing." That's a lie. He told me the same shit he told me when I joined the team—stay out of the gossip pages and away from his daughter. Neither was a problem then. I'm thirty-two, not a fucking rookie with a chip on my shoulder and something to prove. And the only thing I knew about his daughter was that he had one.

My, how the tables have turned.

I've spent the last week trying to convince myself the rules apply now more than ever. Spoiler alert: it isn't working.

As soon as I think I've convinced myself, I remember the way she smiled up at me, her relentless teasing, or the way she whimpered when I pressed up against her, and all my hard work means exactly dick.

I wasn't lying when I told her that I don't fuck around. And promising Coach that I'd stay out of trouble wasn't a hardship. I know exactly how shit in this league works.

Guys like River, Joaquin, and Diego burn hot and fast. Everyone loves them, but their stars burn out before their bodies do. They spend half their careers with fans hating them for all the questionable shit they did back in the day—like fucking their way through half the fandom. But guys like me, Archer, Jordan, and Micah? Hell, even Logan, despite how often he pretends he's just like River to keep all eyes on him and away from his sister? We've been at it long enough to know this isn't a sprint. Real fans don't want out-of-control players who spend as much time gracing the gossip pages as they do on the ice. They want players dedicated to the game.

I've been that motherfucker for years, keeping my head down and doing what needed to be done. I never wanted my sister caught up in any bullshit, so I kept my head on straight and focused on the game.

Until now. Emilia Lariat has me ready to break every single rule in the book just for a taste.

I glance back over at her in time to see her hugging Alice again. She waves bye to her, and then resumes her trek to the bar, those dimples lighting up the entire fucking room.

Christ, I want that round ass in my hands while she's begging me to fuck my kid into her.

I slouch down in the booth, snatching my bottle from the table to take a long drink. It doesn't settle me down any at all.

"Rumor is that she's our new staff shrink," Archer says, his voice a quiet murmur.

I heard the same rumor. It's yet another reason I need to keep my hands to myself. Come Monday, she won't just be Lariat's daughter. She'll be a member of the staff. That's bound to get complicated.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jordan mutters, turning to peer at her through narrowed eyes. "There's no way she's the shrink. She's what? Eighteen?"

"Twenty-four," Archer says. "She has a graduate degree in psychology."

"How the fuck do you know so much about her?" River leans back in the booth, suspicion written all over his face. "You got a hard on for her or something?"

I growl softly.

"Fuck no." Archer scowls at him, his gaze flickering to Micah and then away before anyone else notices. I clock it, though. Archer thinks he's subtle, but half the goddamn team knows he's in love with Micah's baby sister, Wren. I spent five minutes in a room with them together and figured it out. The only one who hasn't worked it out yet is Micah. He's too wrapped up in his wife and baby to notice. "I've met her before."

Everyone at the table turns to look at him.

"You met her before? How the fuck did you get to meet her, but we didn't?" Joaquin asks, scowling like he thinks it's a big injustice. It is, actually. I should have met her as soon as I was traded to the Carvers. But the rest of these assholes? Fuck no. They don't need to know anything about her, especially not Joaquin or River. Diego, either.

"I had to run by Coach's place one day to grab something when she was home from college a few years ago." Archer shrugs like it's not a big deal. To him, I'm sure it's not. There's a reason he's the captain. Nothing much rattles him or gets him worked up. He's solid, steady, and chill as fuck most of the time. "I stayed for dinner."

"Aww. Did Daddy cook for his little man?" Diego asks.

"Man, knock it off with that shit," Archer growls, scowling at our backup goalie.

"Yeah, Diego," Logan says, jumping to Archer's defense. "It's not his fault that virtually everyone on the planet likes him better than you."

"Not everyone," Diego protests.

"Name one person who prefers you to Archer."

"Uh, my mom, motherfucker."

"You mean the lady who broke out a jersey with his number on it and asked him to sign it, and then wore it through the whole after party when we made it to the Playoffs last year?" River asks. "Man, she'd throw you in front of a bus for Cap."

"Fine," Diego grumbles before his tone turns triumphant. "But your mom fucking loves me. She told me so before I blew her back out last night."

"You are such a fucking…"

Emilia reaches the bar, leaning over to say something to Marco, the bar tender. When she does, her dress rides up dangerously high in the back. My mouth waters at the sight of her thick thighs.

Some asshole in a suit, one of the execs named Sean or Sven or something like that, seated off to the side notices her, too. He licks his fucking lips, staring at her ass. A second later, his hand drops to his lap, adjusting his dick.

"Nope. Hell no," I growl, dropping my bottle to the table and sliding from the booth.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Micah asks.

I ignore him, stalking across the bar toward Emilia as Sean or Sven or whatever his fucking name is heads her way, too. I beat him there, shooting him a warning glare as I press up against her from behind.

She immediately squeaks, spinning around to face me…which just means her tits are crushed against my chest and my dick is nestled against her stomach. I lash a hand around her waist, pinning her in place as I glance over at the dick in the suit again.

He holds his hands up, backing away. "My bad, Whatley. Didn't know she was yours."

She isn't mine. Yet. But I don't tell him that.

Christ, I am so fucked.

I wait for Suit to walk away before I slowly release Emilia, glancing down at her. Her wide eyes are locked on my face, the desire in them unmistakable. I want to lick my way across every freckle on her face.

Goddammit.

"Hey," I mutter, sliding onto a stool.

"Are you stalking me, Nash Whatley?" she asks, hopping up onto the stool beside me. Judging by the way she smiles when she says it, she isn't opposed to the idea.

"You're in our bar, baby girl."

"What?" Her brows furrow, her face scrunching up as she glances around. Her expression quickly clears when she notices the giant television screens, the windows overlooking the ice below, and the blue and gray motif all over the place. "Oh, right."

I chuckle, shaking my head. It shouldn't be legal to be so fucking beautiful and so fucking adorable at the same time. "Did you forget that you're at the arena?"

"No," she mumbles, avoiding my gaze, which I take to mean yes, she did forget that.

I shift on the stool, trying to give my dick a little breathing room. It's a fruitless attempt. The hard bastard isn't going down anytime soon.

"I heard a rumor."

"What a coincidence. So did I."

"Oh, I can't wait to hear this shit." I motion for her to go ahead with hers. I already know it's going to be ridiculous. Damn near every word out of her mouth is full of fire and sass, as if teasing me is a biological imperative with her.

She waits for the bartender to place her drink in front of her—which looks suspiciously like a milkshake and nothing at all like alcohol—and then leans so close her perfect tits brush my arm. I feel her breath on the side of my face and my goddamn cock throbs.

"Rumor has it that a certain left defenseman may or may not have violated the sanctity of the locker room by jerking off in it," she whispers in my ear. "Alone."

A bark of surprised laughter rumbles from my lips as she drops back down onto her stool, grinning from ear to ear.

"Care to confirm or deny these heinous allegations, Whatley?" she asks, holding her milkshake out toward me like it's a microphone and she's a gossip reporter.

"Confirmed," I growl, pulling the straw into my mouth to take a big drink. I smell the alcohol right about the time I choke on it. My eyes water as the alcohol burns its way down my throat. "Jesus fucking Christ, Emilia. You could kill a horse with that thing."

She gasps in outrage, holding the milkshake against her chest like I just threatened to murder it. "Worry about yourself, Whatley."

"What the fuck is in it? Half a bottle of rum?"

"A little of this, a lot of that." She grins, popping the straw into her mouth to take a drink…and I've never wanted to be a straw more in my life. Her eyes immediately widen with shock and then start watering. "Oh. Oh, wow. That's way stronger than I expected."

"What is it?"

"A harmless peach milkshake."

I shoot her a look.

"A harmless boozy peach milkshake."

"So…our new shrink drinks boozy peach milkshakes, doesn't know how to knock, and likes to fuck with me. What else should I know about her?" I ask.

Her eyes widen.

"I told you that I heard a rumor," I say, shrugging. "Yours is more salacious than mine, but I still feel like I won this round."

Her lips twitch, her dimples popping out. "Why? Because everyone already knows about the team circle jerks?" She pats me on the shoulder. "It's okay, buddy. I won't tell them you violated the rule about being a team…player."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "You're a wild one, Emilia Lariat."

She takes a tiny sip of her milkshake, grinning around the straw.

I glance behind us to see the entire team watching us in various states of shock and awe. Archer looks worried. Jordan looks bored. Everyone else is blatantly staring.

Fuck. I should go back to the table and mind my own business. Flirting with the Coach's daughter is the last place my big ass needs to be when everyone at that booth may bear the brunt of my decisions.

I turn back to Emilia to find her staring at me like she doesn't want to look away. My fucking heart clenches, the desire to walk away rapidly dwindling.

What is it about this girl that's so fucking irresistible?

Everything, I quickly decide. It's everything. She feels…inevitable. Or hell, maybe we feel inevitable. I don't fucking know. This is far beyond my realm of expertise or experience. It's been years since I even went on a date. But I've always heeded my instincts, and they're telling me that this girl is important.

They've been telling me the same damn thing since I saw her standing in the locker room. Coach doesn't have to understand that, but I think maybe his daughter understands a little too well. I see it reflecting in her eyes. She's just as caught as I am…and just as confused.

The little flash of vulnerability in her eyes as she stares at me has my resolve to try to keep things between us professional crumbling to dust. There's nothing professional about this. It's about as personal as it gets.

"Why didn't I know you were Lariat's kid?" I murmur, leaning closer to her.

"Maybe you don't pay enough attention," she says pertly. "Archer told the team I was his daughter."

"I was in the shower."

"Naked," she mumbles, her eyes glazing over as they slide down my body. "Think you can recreate that scene for me? For science, obviously. I, unfortunately, know what the rest of the team looks like. It's only fair I have your data for comparison." Her dimples pop out again. "My fantasy league still needs an MVP."

"Depends," I rumble, chuckling. Christ, she's hilarious. "You gotta answer my questions first."

"What questions?" she eyes me suspiciously. "You don't want to know what other datapoints I use to pick my fantasy dream team, Whatley. Trust me."

Well, shit. Now, I kinda do want to know.

"Oh! You asked what else you should know about me, right?"

"That's one of them."

"Hmm." She taps her lips, thinking about it. "I just graduated and moved back."

"To take the job as our shrink."

"To be closer to my dad. But yeah, I guess that too." Her worried eyes meet mine. "Does it bother you?"

"Which part?"

"That I'm the new therapist."

"Nah, I'm good with it."

Relief filters across her face before her teeth sink into her plump bottom lip. "What about the rest of it?"

Telling her yes and ending this here and now is the sane thing to do. But as already established, there's no fucking way I'm doing that. Not going to happen. One way or another, Emilia Lariat is going to be mine. Coach doesn't have to like it. He'll live. But I want his daughter, and I fully intend to get her.

"Good with that part too, baby girl," I grunt.

"Good." She beams at me, her gold eyes bright. "Because I'd really hate for that rumor about your…activities to get out. I mean, if the bunnies knew what you guys do in that locker room?" She shakes her head, tsking. "You'd need more than a measly door to keep them at bay."

"It certainly didn't stop you, did it?"

"Did you just call me a puck bunny?" she asks, one brow arched. "I thought we already established that you don't do puck bunnies, Nash."

"Oh, I don't. But I can think of a few things I want to do to you," I say dryly.

"I just bet you can." Humor dances in her eyes as she slides from her stool. "Dance with me."

"Uh…" I glance around. "This isn't that kind of bar, Emilia."

"So? It can be if we make it one. I mean…unless you're afraid?"

It's a goddamn gauntlet meant to illicit a reaction. I know it is. But with that wicked smirk on her lips and the fire in her eyes, I'm moving before I even know it. I grab her hand, lacing our fingers together as I pull her toward the center of the bar.

The music floating through the bar isn't loud, but it suits our purposes as I pull her up against my chest and then spin her. A loud peal of surprised laughter burbles from her lips.

My teammates whoop and holler, cheering us on.

I try to tune them out, focused on the little minx in my arms as we sway back and forth, spinning around the bar like we're the only two in the motherfucker.

"You can dance," she says, smiling up at me.

I dip my head, placing my lips against her ear. "You'd be surprised what I can do, Emilia."

She trembles in my arms, whimpering faintly. And that fucking sound… Christ , that sound. I want to hear it while she's spread out beneath me, naked and pleading for me to let her come. If she begs sweetly enough, I'll let her. I'll keep her coming until she's so high on me, nothing else exists.

I don't know if she sees my thoughts on my face or if she's just incapable of behaving herself, but when I spin her again, she intentionally brushes her perfect ass against my cock, grinding back against me.

What little restraint I have shears in two.

If I don't know what that mouth tastes like right now, I'm going to snap.

"We're leaving," I growl, catching her around the wrist to reel her back into my arms. My lips touch the side of her throat, and I inhale. Her scent works like a wrecking ball on my system as I march her out of the bar, my asshole teammates catcalling and whistling the whole time.

I glance up long enough to see Archer watching us, still looking worried. But I don't pay him any attention. Neither does Emilia. This is between the two of us. He can captain someone else for the night.

She's trembling in my arms, her nails digging into my side. Goddamn, she's perfect. I haul her out through a side door, letting it slam behind us.

Before she can even move, she's against the wall with me pressed up against her.

"Grind against my cock now, princess," I groan, dragging my lips down the side of her throat.

"Kiss me, Nash," she whispers, my name shaking on her lips.

I spin her around, my mouth crashing down on hers. I taste the alcohol on her breath, but beneath that, I taste her. She's so fucking sweet. Jesus. I press her harder against the wall, licking into her mouth as she practically climbs my body.

Her cunt nestles against my cock, a soft sob escaping her lips.

"Grind all over me, Emilia," I order, biting her lip. "Make yourself come like a good fucking girl. We both know it's what you want, isn't it?"

"Yes. No." She claws down my shoulders, whimpering. "I just want you, Nash. I can't think straight."

"Are you drunk?" I pull back long enough to ask. I don't think she drank nearly enough of that milkshake to cloud her judgement but better safe than sorry. I don't want her to regret this shit tomorrow.

"What? No. I'm…" She squirms all over my cock, her cheeks pink.

Realization dawns, hitting like a hammer blow. Jesus Christ. She's a virgin. She has no idea what she's feeling because she's never felt it before now.

I'm an asshole for feeling like a god because she chose me, but it's impossible not to feel that way. I'm the lucky motherfucker she wants. Anyone in my shoes would feel the same exact way.

My hands sink into her hips, rocking her against me.

"Turned on, Emilia," I murmur, attacking her perfect mouth again. "Your panties are dripping wet and your pretty little cunt aches because you're turned on. You can't think straight because you need to come."

"Yes, that. Do that."

I chuckle, biting her bottom lip. "Nah, baby girl. You do it. Rock that gorgeous body against me until you shatter."

"Sure, make me do all the work," she grumbles.

I grind her down on my cock. "Does that feel like you're doing all the work?"

"Oh," she moans, her head falling back. "Do that again."

I don't tell her no. I grip her ass in both hands, dry fucking her like my life depends on it. Right now, it actually might. If anyone catches us, I'm fucked. And not in the way I want to be. But that's not my priority right now. She is. This is.

Damn, this is heaven. She's so wet she's soaking my jeans.

I kiss her again, long and deep. She moans into my mouth, running her hands all over my shoulders as she works her hips frantically, chasing the high.

"That's it," I croon. "Use my cock to get yourself there, Emilia. I want you to fucking drench those panties for me."

"I…I already have!" she cries quietly. "They're so wet, Nash."

"Good girl." I bury my face in her throat, nipping and sucking. "I'm taking them when you're done. When I come tonight, it'll be with them wrapped around my cock."

"You can do that? Can I watch?"

I chuckle through a pained groan against her skin, my balls throbbing. If she keeps talking, I'm going to be fucking her against this wall while everyone listens to her scream my name.

I adjust my position, balancing her carefully as I slip a hand between our bodies. The second I feel the sticky juices coating her inner thighs, cum spills into my boxers.

I flick her panties aside, parting her slit with my thumb.

"Oh. Oh my god."

"You can call me your god if you insist, but Nash will do just fine," I tease, pressing my thumb to her clit. She's so fucking wet. So hot. Goddamn, where has she been all my life? I grind my thumb against her, nipping the shell of her ear at the same time. "Come on my fingers, Emilia. Let me feel it."

She falls forward, faceplanting against my shoulder. A second later, I feel her teeth in my skin, stifling her cries as she unravels in my arms.

I work her through it, dragging out every ounce of pleasure until she's mewling and shivering in my arms, her tits heaving against my chest.

Fuck, she's beautiful when she's coming.

I need to see it again.

I need to feel it again.

I need her coming all over me repeatedly for the foreseeable future.

I'm fucked on levels I can't even begin to comprehend right now.

"Perfect," I murmur, brushing my lips against hers in a sweet kiss before I slowly lower her to her feet. She sways against me as I slide her panties down her legs, stealing them before she has a chance to change her mind or argue about it. I catch a peep at her bare pussy and my dick throbs again.

Christ Almighty. I want to eat it…just bury myself between her thighs and never come up for air again. I can live on her pussy and orgasms, easy.

I carefully tuck her panties in my pocket, pulling her into my arms again before I give into the urge to drop to my knees and feast.

She opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off with a hard kiss, my heart pounding. If she says she regrets what just happened or that it shouldn't have happened…

"Nash," she whispers sweetly against my lips. "Can we do that again?"

The knot of anxiety growing in my stomach vanishes as I exhale a rough chuckle, kissing her again. "Fuck yeah. Anytime, anyplace, princess."