Chapter 22
DEX
Word traveled that I was at the rink because after the girls’ practice, a Bantam team had the ice next.
The coach asked if I would stay and run their practice as well.
I couldn’t turn down a group of fourteen-year-old boys.
I remembered when I was that age, and I was always up for giving back.
One of them may be drafted in a few years and if I could help with that, I was all in.
Besides, it was fun to be on the ice again. No one commented on the bar fight or anything about it playing out in the media. People took photos with me, and I signed jerseys, helmets and even the back of a grocery store receipt before I was allowed off the ice where Lindy was waiting for me.
I’d tried to keep track of her throughout the two practices, seeing her first with her sister and another woman during the girls’ practice, then alone in the stands for the boys’.
While I watched the kids run through drills and scrimmage, I wondered if she was still mad.
If she would leave the house and go stay with Mav and Bridget or even a hotel.
If all the time we’d spent together meant nothing.
If I’d blown everything.
Except when I skated off the ice and to her, where she stood at the opening in the boards, she didn’t knee me in the balls or tell me to fuck off. Instead, she went up on her tiptoes–since I was in my skates–and whispered in my ear.
“I’m ready to beg.”
Holy fuck. What?
My dick went instantly hard, and I pulled back enough to meet her eyes. There, holy shit, I didn’t see anger. They held heat. Need. Her cheeks weren’t flushed from the cold. No. She wanted me. Us.
“I hear you, but I need you to spell it out for me so I’m clear,” I murmured.
She swallowed and I watched her throat work. I immediately thought of her doing that because my dick was so fucking deep.
“I want you to fuck me, Dex. All the ways you imagined.”
I set my hand on her hip and pulled her close. Not as close as I wanted, which was with her legs wrapped around my waist and my dick buried deep, because the next group of kids had taken the ice for their practice time.
Staring at her, there were no parents killing time in the bleachers. No scents of popcorn and hot dogs coming from the food stand. No whistles or slapping sticks. No buzzers or cold air. All I could see and feel was Lindy. Those blue eyes. That fuckable mouth. Her soft curves.
“Jesus,” I murmured. “That word coming out of your mouth… it’s like the good girl got tarnished.”
She glanced away as if ashamed. I pushed on.
“No. I have a feeling that you, sugar, beneath that perfect exterior in your pretty dresses and matching shoes, are actually a bad girl. I got a glimpse of her last night bent over the table, skirt flipped up and showing me how pretty my handprint looks on your ass. A very, very bad girl.”
And she was sharing her with me.
Her eyes returned to mine, her lips parted in surprise. Maybe she never thought about it before. Maybe I scandalized her. Maybe her pussy was soaked.
“Are you a bad girl?”
She sucked in a breath and her breasts bumped my chest.
“Yes,” she whispered back.
Fuck. Me. I knew she was perfect.