Chapter 4
E lena Vidal looks at me like I grew two heads. “Your ex did what now?”
Summer, Elena, and I drown on Saturday morning on cheap mimosas. It’s a rare moment. However, today I can’t help but feel breathless and distracted as I have to attend a celebration party at the Hockey House tonight. The Ravens pulled through at the last minute, Tripp working his ass off to catch up and ultimately putting them in overtime and winning the game in the first minute. The moment he scored the goal, his gaze found mine as the team surrounded him and shot a wink and smirk that sent sparks straight to my core.
“We are just so badly incompatible. I can’t believe I was with him for so long. Part of it is my fault.” My hands rub my eyes. Clarity in a relationship has never hit so hard after a period of time and girl brunches.
“He is a tool. Like, to his core.” Elena peers at me. “How did you tolerate his bullshit for so long?”
“How does any girl tolerate any sort of guy bullshit?” Summer quips.
“Fuck, we are all just idiots, aren’t we?” Elena says.
I nod in agreement as we simultaneously groan in chorus.
“So I guess you guys are going to the Hockey House tonight?” Elena polishes off her quiche as she glances between us.
Summer nods. “I think I’ll be there a little on the later side. I want to finish my article.”
“I have to cover some sort of faculty dinner thing,” Elena says. “Then I have a hot date.”
“The TA?” Summer winks, and Elena nods with an excited wiggle. “You know it, but have fun for me, will ya?”
Fun is an understatement. The moment Summer and I arrive at the Hockey House, it’s already in full swing with music blasting and the student body practically overfilling the house. Despite the game being only a few days ago, the energy of the win hasn’t dimmed, and it’s rather infectious. Summer immediately spots Duke, and like magnets, they collide.
“Hey Z.” Duke beams with a smile. It’s disconcerting to see the formerly unsmiling enforcer showing off a brilliant, relaxed smile. Leaving them absorbed with each other, I wander around, stopping to say hi to a couple of acquaintances and even chatting with George for a while. I’m in the mood to flirt with him a little, trying to sus out his secret project. However, his friends show up, distracting him, and I wander some more.
Spotting Tripp isn’t hard. He’s settled himself in the kitchen, regaling a gaggle of ladies with the story of the winning shot.
“And then I saw my opening, and I took it,” he says. Leaning against the frame, I study him. He has everyone wrapped around his finger. It is the Tripp way, easy to get caught in his gravitational pull. Perhaps that was why, deep down, I resented him at first. The guy who can get anything and everything his way with a charming compliment or a look. Perhaps it’s also why I keep inching closer and closer to him, too tired to resist.
Tripp’s green eyes find mine, and his smile grows as the gaggle of ladies are disappointed with his attention being zeroed in on me. “You made it.”
“A promise is a promise.” I can’t help it, smiling back at him. This new level of our friendship is rather pleasant, though I’ll never pass up the opportunity to antagonize him.
“However, I thought this was a party. I can’t find the drinks anywhere.”
“Well, then let me fix that, little viper.” Tripp grins wider as he breaks free from his shield of admirers and escorts me somewhere in the bowels of the maze that is Hockey House. It’s a room dedicated to any sort of drink one wants, manned by a freshman who barely looks like he graduated high school.
With drinks procured, I thought Tripp would let me roam free.
“You know, I think the team has found their lucky charm,” Tripp says, watching as I take a drink of my canned seltzer.
Scoffing, I roll my eyes, “I don’t believe in luck.”
“Don’t need you to, rain cloud.” Tripp and I find a quieter place in the house where the student body is watching a poker game unfold.
“You can pretend it’s all probability and test that theory by coming to the games more often,” he says.
“You can’t always expect me to come to your games.” My fingers fiddle with the can tab to deflate the bit of restlessness inside. “Besides, it might give people the idea that I’m dating someone.”
“Or that you’re just a big hockey convert.” Tripp’s eyes roam my face. He seems surprisingly sober at this time of night at a party that’s been going on for a while.
“I’m not quite convinced about this hockey business, Montgomery.” I reply airily. “It’s a lot of fun, but I’m not about that violence.”
“It’s all showmanship, doll,” he says. “It’s practically expected.”
“Fine, then the next time I go, you can’t get into a fight the whole game. If you do that, then I’ll consider getting a jersey and coming to the home games.”
“Done,” Tripp adds with a smirk and leans in. “And if you’re a good girl with perfect attendance, maybe I’ll hook you up with one of my own jerseys.”
My throat swallows a large amount of seltzer, trying to strangle the involuntary breath of air he caused by calling me a good girl. The heat lights every part of me and my baser side wants to see what he’ll do if I encourage him a little more.
“You okay, sweet cheeks?” He cocks his head. “You seem a little flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I say, determined.
Tripp studies me, like really studies me, in a way that makes me squirm, but wants to let every part of him open me up like a present.
“You wanna get out of here?” he whispers. My heart is hammering in my chest and my mind is screaming, fuck yes .
With the willpower of a saint, I hold his gaze. “Are we tapping into the benefits part, Tripp?”
Tripp nods. “Only if you want to, gorgeous.”
A beat and we are still staring at each other, the world fading into the color of strobe and the heat of the party. My thoughts drift to the first time and how much I adored the way he made me feel powerful after a shitty day. This time would be different, almost unknown, but it was more intoxicating.
“I thought about it.” My teeth graze my lips. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “And I think, yeah.”
Tripp looks at me in wonder. His face lights up. “If I had known hockey talk was going to get you all riled up, I would have given you a ticket ages ago.”
“Don’t make me regret it, Montgomery.” It’s hard but I’m trying to look bored. To hide the maddening excitement that takes up residence in the pit of my stomach.
“Don’t worry, darlin, this time I’m ready for you,” he says.
“Tonight?” I cock my head, trying to tame the wildfire exploding through my body. “Here? Closet? Bathroom?”
“For what I have planned, it’s going to require more time than a quickie.”
“You talk a lot of game, Montgomery.” I shake my head, moving away from him. Tripp doesn’t let me go easily. He pulls me toward him and leans in. My nose takes in a mix of man and an undertone of spice and I want to wrap myself in it.
Tripp’s hand is warm on my skin and we are so close that our noses nearly touch. His green eyes darken, pinning mine as he breathes the sweetest threat. The kind that destroys your resolve and shoots heat in every part of you.
“No game darling, I fully intend to ruin you, like you ruined me,” he speaks like it’s an absolute truth.
“You don’t owe me anything.” My voice is barely a whisper as my head feels light.
“I owe you three orgasms, minimum. So get ready. You’re mine tonight, Elliot.”
He lets me go in a daze. I can’t focus on anything else tonight, instead just watching Tripp. With a smile, I know he’s going to make good on his promise.
Somehow, we make it back to my place without touching each other. Tripp is unusually silent and for a moment, as we’re walking up to my apartment, I have creeping doubts. That he realizes this was a bad idea.
Before I can open the door, I turn to face him. His face is unreadable, his jaw hard.
“Last chance to back out.” I laugh, but it comes out breathless, and I feel rather exposed under his gaze.
“Open the door, Zoey,” he growls and I comply quickly.
It feels like stepping into a new reality. His large hand urges me inside, and the moment the door closes behind him, I’m pinned against it with a thud. His lips crash onto mine and the insolent side of me kisses back just as hard and ravenously.
It isn’t romantic.
It isn’t gentle.
It’s all brutality and hunger.
With my last bit of coherence, I have no problem letting my feelings take control. Tripp nips on my bottom lip briefly before moving down across my jaw, his hands gripping my hips against him. My underwear is already obscenely wet, my core throbbing.
“You really thought I was going to back out?” His lips are over the sensitive spot on my neck, his voice rumbling against my overheated skin.
“Just had to double check. I know I intimidate you.” He nips at the soft spot on my neck.
“Oh Zoey.” He takes a moment to pull back, his hand snaking to cup my face, his pupils blown, and he looks ready to feast, “You are going to pay for all that snark that seems to make up your whole DNA.”
“That’s a lot,” I tease, my hands tracing the hem of his jeans, my fingers lightly brushing against the skin on his abdomen. “And what would be my first punishment?”
“Well.” His voice cracks as my hands move up his shirt, “First, I’m going to take you to bed.”
With swift movement, I squeal as he throws me over his shoulder like I’m nothing.
“What the hell?”
“Be a good girl.” He smacks my bottom, sending a jolt of pleasure and pain through me like a live wire. “Which one is your bedroom again?”
Giggling, I direct him to my door and he quickly deposits me on the bed and tears his shirt off and unzips his pants, loosening the fabric around his large bulge. I barely have enough time to get my pants off and get a semblance of control before he’s back on me. He holds my hands above my head, pinning them against the mattress. Our kiss is fierce, teeth clashing and our tongues swallowing all our moans. His body moves up to briefly help me out of my shirt and bra.
He stares down, his mouth open, panting as he stares and stares. I watch in fascination, my breath hitching as his hands stroke down my sides, tracing my tattoos. Swallowing hard, I can’t help but arch my back to his touch, hungry for it.
“You are so fucking sexy,” he says, almost to himself. My confidence soars, flooding me with much-needed warmth. His hands finally move to my breasts, his thumbs tracing the bars pierced on my nipples, the sensitivity causing me to moan loudly.
“These are amazing.” He continues to massage and tweak them and the warm band in my belly tightens, desperate to snap.
“Fuck.” I groan as his mouth replaces his hands on my left breast. Then moving to the next, giving equal attention. My hands snake down between us where my underwear is embarrassingly wet and I want nothing more than to feel him. Hoping to egg him on.
“I want you inside me.”
“Not yet, doll. I’m not done playing,” he growls at me, taking my hand away.
He cuts off my whining with a kiss again. It’s all rather unfair, so I raise my hips, desperate for some friction.
“Z, you are something . . .” he hisses. His voice is desperate, and I know I’m close to breaking his resolve.
“Please,” I pout.
With a tortured look, he shakes his head, “Not yet, princess, but because you said please, you get a little reward.”
Gasping, I feel his fingers find my clit.
“Fuck, you are ready for me,” he whispers, awed.
Nodding, I stare up at him and I feel my mind wanting to break. His movements are leisurely, so sweetly cruel I’ve never wanted release so badly in my life.
“Say what you want, pretty girl.” He continues to rub maddening circles, marveling at the desperate pants he is pulling out of me.
“Please, I need you inside now.” My voice breaks.
Tripp nudges my legs wider and I prop myself on my elbows. His boxers are off, and I lick my lips at his cock. It’s hard and leaking and I wonder how I got that inside of me last time. Grabbing a condom, he slips it on his length. He watches me, looking pleased at my ravenous look. Kissing me again, it surprises me how gentle he is. He leans his forehead against mine.
“I want you to watch,” his voice rumbles, breaking through my haze. My head bobs numbly. I am in a state that I’d do anything he asks as long as he fucks me.
Rubbing at the entrance, I swallow as he pushes.
“Relax,” he croaks, inching in more. My gaze fixes between him splitting me open and his blissed out face. The stretch is everything. Feels too good, and I want more.
“Are you still watching, sweetheart? See how well you take me?” he pants and I moan as he drags in and out. Throwing my head back, my body is floating into a different planet, letting more of my feelings take control. He is at an agonizingly slow pace, deciding to torture me in this delicious way. The hot band inside me is tightening more and more.
“Fuck,” he whispers. When I look at him, his mouth parts, mesmerized, watching where we meet and back on my face.
“Faster, please,” I beg, needing release, knowing it’s going to destroy me for good.
“If I do that, beautiful, it’s going to be all over too quickly,” he laughs shakily.
“I’m close, I promise.” My voice is high pitched and I clench around him, hoping to spur him on.
“Sweet Jesus,” he hisses. It causes him to involuntarily snap his hips against me and I want more.
“Just let go,” I grit out, moving my hips up, feeling him go deeper.
“Oh Z, not sure if that was a good thing to say,” he says before he crashes his lips on mine again. There is no gradual pace, no time to adjust as he snaps his hips against me. Knowing I’m going to feel every bit tomorrow, my body celebrates. His movements punch out my breath and it doesn’t take long before that band inside snaps and shatters. My mind suddenly is nothing and all I feel is wave after wave of pleasure. My body is barely coming back together as he’s still making me shake violently against him. As he fucks through my orgasm, he then grinds as deep as he can, letting out a moan so broken it sends thrills through me, igniting the heat again. As awareness settles and the high equalizes, his body is heavy on me. He turns us on our sides, our legs tangled, and I’m staring at the wild look on his face. He is trying to control his breathing. For once, he has nothing to say, no snarky quip, no teasing, no praise and somehow neither do I.