Chapter 24
Marlie couldn’t believe it when he squeezed that monster cock between her thighs, pulling her hips back so he could angle up and into her.
“Damon.”
“Fuck, yeah.”
With her ankles close, bound by her jeans and panties, her boots still on, Marlie had little maneuverability as Damon plowed into her.
God, he felt huge from behind. To her shock, she felt herself readying to orgasm. He kept hitting a special spot inside her, her body getting slicker, easing his intrusion.
And it was an intrusion. He fucked her hard, holding her with his massive strength.
Such an incredible turn-on… “Yes, more,” she insisted.
He grunted as pounded inside her, until she couldn’t stop herself and cried out as she came all over him.
He moved faster, fucking her until he too stopped, seizing inside her as he jetted into the condom. Fuck, but he was holding her up off her feet, her arms braced against the door as he finished, shuddering.
“Yeah, baby. So tight.” He kissed her hair, moved it aside, and kissed her cheek. Then he turned her head to kiss her mouth.
Awkward yet hot as hell. His cock still buried inside her, Marlie half-dressed while dominated from behind.
She kissed him back, loving this so much. Being controlled by someone bigger and stronger had always been a fantasy. Damon filled it without trying.
Talk about a bad boy.
The only thing he could have done to make it absolutely perfect would have been to come inside her.
But they had discussed safe sex. Though he would have nothing to worry about with her, she didn’t know him well enough for sex without barriers.
Which was too bad, because she wanted to suck him off and watch him lose it under her control.
He kissed his way down her cheek to her throat, not nipping or sucking. No leaving bruises she’d have to explain. But the tender way he caressed her felt deeper than affection. Which was so weird.
Finally withdrawing, he pulled up her clothing and tucked her back in. “Be right back.”
She sagged back against the door when he returned to her, his clothing all to rights. Her stalker dragged her up off her feet for a hell of a kiss. Then he moved her out of the way.
“Sleep tight.” He winked.
And left.
She yawned, because he really had fucked her well enough that she wanted nothing more than to sleep. She had a full day tomorrow, back to teaching at college, followed by basketball practice for the high school team.
Dragging herself to the bathroom, she cleaned up, changed into PJs, and set her alarm before sliding into a deep and restful sleep.
The next morning, Marlie woke feeling refreshed.
She grinned her way through a quick breakfast, several cups of coffee, and her classes throughout the day.
She taught two English composition classes and a creative writing class three days a week, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays she taught a second creative writing class that only met twice a week.
Between her allotted office hours with built-in time for grading and planning, her schedule didn’t overwhelm and allowed her to coach girls’ JV basketball in the evenings. The high school had asked if she wanted to coach Varsity next year, but she was still thinking it over.
Though teaching didn’t pay much, and especially not in Hope’s Turn, she enjoyed her job and loved being involved with young women playing a sport she adored.
She understood why a sport nut would want to go pro.
Had she been taller and better at the game, she might have.
Instead, she’d played college ball at a D3 school, enjoyed the hell out of her time learning while also blossoming in her independence, and found a love for the game that continued to this day.
She wondered about Damon’s path. In her downtime, she googled him. Wiki certainly had some interesting tidbits about his life. Apparently, he’d been drafted right out of high school to the CHL—Canadian Hockey League. No college for Demon Sinclair.
A prodigy, he’d started his first two seasons in the CHL then moved up to the NHL’s minor league until the age of twenty-three, when the Portland Ice Raptors took him on. He’d been there ever since, moving up after two years of being the backup goalie, now the starter.
He’d been making magic there for the past six years, putting players on their asses and saving pucks all over the place.
Huh. He hadn’t been bragging. The guy was amazing, had even been voted best goalie in the league the past few years and MVP of the entire NHL last year, which was huge anyway she looked at it.
Demon Sinclair could be brutal on the ice. She watched a few online videos of him playing, impressed at his skills, the scary helmet that made him look like an actual demon, and the way he didn’t tolerate anyone trying to score with his puck.
She also couldn’t take her gaze from his athleticism and flexibility. Holy crap. The guy could do a split and bend in all kinds of ways. She wondered how his knee was holding up. How frustrated he had to be away from a game he clearly dominated.
Damon had to be dying to get back to work. She sighed, wishing she could be as motivated for him to return to hockey as he had to be. Yet, she’d admit it, if only to herself. She liked Damon Sinclair more than she’d ever liked any of her previous boyfriends.
Granted, she knew they’d just met. That the newness of their relationship made it sparkle and shine. Heck, she only knew as much as she did about him because she’d looked him up online. She didn’t know his favorite song, colors, hobbies. Only that he kissed like an expert and fit her like a glove.
And that he had a life to get back to next year.
Now depressed when she’d been so happy all day, she worked through her lesson plans for the following day.
A knock at her door interrupted her.
“Coach?”
One of her students had come by for office hours. Though she’d told her students to call her Marlie, not hung up on formality while trying to teach, a few of her students focused on the work she did on the court. Like this one.
She smiled. “Hey, Simon. What can I help you with?”
Though a high school senior, Simon Bragg was taking some advanced college courses before graduation that would count for credit at the next level of his education.
The kid already had a football scholarship to the University of Oregon come next fall, but he worked extra hard on his academics, hoping to get some basic classes out of the way before heading to the U of O.
“Well, our final is next week. I had a few questions about my assignment.”
She nodded. Having assigned her class a take-home final for Comp I, she allowed them to choose which two essays they’d completed during the term for revision and thematic expansion to answer a few questions.
To keep it easier on herself, she’d capped the word limit to between 1,000 and 1,500 words, or roughly four to six pages.
She had four classes worth of finals to grade and turn in by the fifteenth. And then, finally, a real Christmas break until the new winter term started the second week of January.
While Simon went over his questions, she answered each one, still impressed with the boy’s thought process. By the time they wrapped up, she only had another half hour until basketball practice at the high school.
Another knock at her door showed Jenna Mason, another of Marlie’s students. The girl also happened to be Simon’s girlfriend and the sister of one of Marlie’s star basketball players. “Hey Jenna. Please tell me nothing’s wrong with your sister.”
Jenna sighed. “No, Coach. Why do I get the feeling you’re just being nice to me to get to Melly?”
“Well, duh.”
Simon snickered. He stood and wrapped an arm around Jenna’s shoulders. “Good luck this week, Coach. You need to beat the Bend Lava Bears, at least. They’ve been trashing our school.”
Jenna frowned. “They’re not as cocky as Summit though. Those guys are weasels.”
“Dick weasels,” Simon murmured, glanced at Marlie, and flushed.
“Who’s a dick weasel?” a deep voice added.
Both teenagers jumped at the tone and spun around.
Marlie stared at her visitor taking up the doorway. “Something I can help you with, Damon?”
“Oh, am I interrupting?” He looked at the young couple with curiosity.
Simon gave him a dark look, but Jenna perked up. “Hi, Damon. We met at my aunt and uncle’s party. Piper and Grant Weston.”
Damon smiled, looking less—but not by much—like a serial killer. “Hey, Jenna. How’s Piper doing? Did she have the kids yet?”
Simon cleared his throat. “We haven’t met. I’m Simon Bragg.”
“Any relation to Bragg’s Tea House?”
“My mom’s shop. Yeah.”
Damon cheered. “Oh man. Your mom is the best.”
Marlie smothered a laugh at the boy’s confusion, sensing Simon was trying really hard not to like Damon.
Simon blinked. “Er, yeah.”
“She makes the best pie, cookies, and cocoa ever. Like, ever.” Damon moved forward and shook Simon’s hand.
Though Simon had a few inches on Marlie, he had to look up at Damon.
Then Damon paused, still holding onto the boy. “Hold on. Is Mitch Flashman your dad?”
“He is.” Simon yanked his hand away. “I heard all about some giant hockey nerd cheating the Mav’s way into a win.”
Damon, instead of taking offense, laughed his ass off. “Oh yeah. Flash blew it on the ice. He can run, but come on, he’s pathetic on skates. Now, your uncle can check a guy. Big dude with attitude. Sorry to say, your dad’s whiny.”
Jenna smothered a grin. “You know Deacon said the same thing yesterday, Simon.”
“Well, yeah, but Flash is amazing at football.”
“No doubt. I can barely hold a pigskin in these mitts.” Damon held up his large hands. “But that’s why I wear gloves and pummel guys who try to score on me. Talk about fun. Until you’ve gone toe to toe with some dickhead on ice, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
He suddenly glanced from Marlie to Jenna and flushed. “I, ah, I mean, fighting is a horrible pastime for grown men. Sports are all about being kind and sharing.”
Jenna laughed, and Marlie shook her head at him.
“Don’t worry about Coach,” Jenna told him. “She’s a terror on the court.”
“Ah, so that’s why we get along so well.”
Simon and Jenna stared from Marlie to Damon in understanding. Jenna smiled. “We have to go, Coach. Melly will be at practice, so don’t worry. She’s over the flu.”
“Thank God.” Marlie walked them to the door. “I’ll be here all week for office hours if you have more questions. Jenna, you good on your final?”
Jenna nodded. “I’m all set. See you, Damon. Oh, and Piper hasn’t had her babies yet.”
“I hope it’s an easy birth. But it being the West Wind’s twins, probably not.”
Simon snickered at that, saw Jenna glaring at him, and hastily wiped his mirth away. “See you later.”
The teens quickly departed and shut the door behind them.
“Am I interrupting?” Damon asked.
He looked good dressed in jeans and a deep red sweater. Christmasy, almost.
“Nah, I’m about done. But you need to keep the door open so students know I’m here. I have another twenty minutes before my office hours are done for the day.”
After opening the door, he sat on the couch in her office and looked around.
She kept the space neat. Her desk and office chair, a couch for seating along with a coffee table.
And on the walls, a few framed art pieces of the mountains along with a couple pictures of her old college basketball teams in addition to her currently coached girls.
She also had a framed Master’s degree she’d busted her ass to get.
He saw it and gaped. “Wow. You’re smart.”
“And pretty and athletic. I know. I’m the trifecta of awesome. So what do you want, Damon?”
“Besides bending you over the desk, you mean?”
Of course one of her teaching associates walked by at that very moment.
Her cheeks flamed as Tom Anders did a double take. “Demon Sinclair? I heard you were in town. Big fan. Saw the game yesterday.”
Damon rose to take the hand Tom offered. Five minutes later, Tom finished fan-boying and scooted out to make a meeting.
“Well, now that you’ve embarrassed me in front of students and colleagues, what can I do for you?”
Damon flushed. “I’m sorry. I was kidding about the desk.” He sat and leaned forward to whisper, “Not really. I would kill to fuck you over your desk.” He sat back and smiled. “But I missed you. Thought I’d see where you worked.”
She couldn’t help feeling flattered. “Hold on. How did you know to come here?”
“A little bird told me.”
“A little bird by the last name of Reynolds or Morrison?”
“Yes.”
She sighed. “And?”
“Huh?”
“What else? I can see you’re thinking hard. That or you need to go to the bathroom.”
He laughed. “Well, I wondered if you’d like to help me with something after your practice tonight. I’ll make it worth your while. Free dinner on me. I can swing by your place around eight with food.”
“Hmm. More free food. How can I say no? Make it seven and you’ve got a deal.”
Which was how she found herself staring at two meowing kittens needing some place to live and the dutiful foster care provider that came with them.