Chapter 2 #2
“You’re right, Ms. Winters. I apologize.
I’m blessed to have such talent in my little finger.
” He wagged it on purpose just to shoot back at me.
“The simple answer is that it felt damn good to crush the opponent. That’s what I’ve lived for my entire life.
And while I assume you don’t understand that playing hockey is a part of my blood, the reason I get up in the morning, that’s why I’m here.
I plan on being the best not only for this team but in the industry.
Now, my guess is you don’t care about anything but gathering a sound bite that will possibly be memorable enough to boost your career.
So here’s one for you. Tell your readers you just had a hot fling with a member of the team who will go on to win the Stanley Cup. ”
“You think you’re that good?”
He leaned in, offering me one hell of a sultry look. I could tell by the glint in his eyes that all he was doing was trying to fluster me.
I also gathered a sense he didn’t like to be pushed unless he controlled the situation.
Neither did I. At this point, I could keep the wall between us or try to break it down brick by brick. I don’t know why being here had put me in such a bad mood.
Oh, wait. I did.
That’s because just earlier I’d been getting ready to leave for the weekend, including having plans with my friends.
Matthew had snagged me inside the elevator on my way out.
He’d shoved a plane ticket in my hand, told me run home and get packed because I was leaving on a flight in a couple of hours.
He’d then tried to ply me with compliments, telling me I was the only one who could provide the spark needed to entice readers of all ages.
When that hadn’t worked, he’d resorted to bribery with the hotel, which was far removed from where the players were staying. He knew how I enjoyed my privacy and quiet time surrounding writing the article itself.
When I’d balked, he’d simply told me it was an order and had stepped off the elevator, leaving me fuming.
The only good news was that he’d had his secretary find me a hotel, which happened to be the Four Seasons outside of Scottsdale.
She’d emailed me the hotel details, leading with her having booked a suite with a plunge pool and a few pictures of the spa and wellness center.
At least she understood the one luxury I’d ever allowed myself.
With an extra day given the flight schedule, I could enjoy taking a day to myself.
However, only if I got through tonight.
What the hoopla around my mission had told me was that the company owners believed the Kendrick brothers were very important. I’d be the judge of that.
With heat slipping from my core, tickling every inch of my skin and my breath resisting all efforts to remain controlled, I knew this had become a battle of wills.
We were both intent on winning, but what game were we playing?
With the closeness of his massive body, the boost of jet-fueled electricity arcing between us, I needed a savior to claw my way out of our sinful tête à tête.
Ask and ye shall receive—if only you believed in divine intervention.
A player smacked directly into Beck, which caused a chain reaction.
He was caught off guard, pushed forward.
I sensed a huge mass weighing almost twice what I did about to crush me and threw my hand out for protection.
I was caught by surprise, which in turn had me dropping my notepad.
When I tried to grab it just after the small book slipped from my fingers, I grabbed something else instead, yanking on instinct.
Only after the dust settled did I realize what I’d jerked free instead.
The towel keeping the arrogant player’s cock and butt safely from my viewpoint.
Now with them on full display, another instinctual moment took over and I gasped. Maybe in shock. Perhaps in appreciation. Definitely out of embarrassment. However, not just from bearing witness to a magnificent work of art in one thick, long, and throbbing dick.
But in the fact that after we’d both stopped moving, all time had ceased to exist, and there was one obvious situation that would forever horrify me and create enjoyable memories for the goalie.
My hand had landed on his shaft. Not only that, but my fingers had automatically wrapped around the thickness, holding on as if the man and his cock were a lifeline.
A slow and steady, even evil smile crossed his face while I couldn’t react quickly enough for common decency, my hand lingering in the forbidden area a little too long.
If I wasn’t mistaken, he’d inched even closer so the sweat and heightened level of testosterone created sheer intoxication.
“Is there something you like, Ms. Winters? Would you enjoy a test run? I’d be happy to provide one for you.”
There was no easy or cool way of ignoring the awkward situation or even returning the interview to some sense of normalcy. The moment called for a completely different tactic.
After a solid squeeze, I rolled my hand all the way to the tip before I released my hold. As I did, I wore a judgmental expression while slightly cocking my head.
Beck watched me intently, playing the part as the perfect candidate.
When I offered a loud-enough-he-was-holding-his-breath ‘hmmm,’ I tried to chastise myself for enjoying the moment.
It failed. “I think I’ll pass, Mr. Kendrick, but I do appreciate your teensy-tiny offer.” I locked my eyes on his, prepared for almost any rebuttal followed by his attempt at being vocally insulted.
Instead, his eyes burned with a fire I’d not seen in a long time, the shimmers of gold surrounding his irises captivating. “You’re missing out, Ms. Winters.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Now that we’ve broken the ice, why don’t you consider getting dressed so we can finish our conversation. I’ll wait outside.”
Beck remained where he was for a few seconds before dragging his gaze down the length of me while crouching down to grab my notebook and pen. He knew exactly the level of torment he was providing, the deliberate movement snagging my attention all over again.
How could a man be so well endowed? Did his groin ever ache after a game from all the heavy swinging? The images forming in my mind were beyond utter filth.
As if he knew exactly what I was thinking, he brushed his other hand across his cock as soon as he stood.
With the notebook being offered, he stepped closely enough there was zero space between us.
His acts of intimidation weren’t going to work on me.
I lifted my head while grabbing the notebook at the same time.
There was such a thing as chemistry or what some would call kismet. I’d just been a bridesmaid for a friend of mine. She’d met her now husband at a grocery store when reaching for the last package of a blood-red filet. The rest had been history, a true Prince Charming.
I hadn’t wanted to burst her bubble that undoubtedly the man was a red-eyed, forked-tongued, grotesque asshole underneath his fancy clothes. She’d need to learn that the hard way.
Beck chuckled, grabbing and holding onto my attention.
The moment our fingers touched, poof, I was lost, my mind one fuzzy blur of madness, sinful images popping through my brain one after the other.
His mouth on mine.
His teeth biting my aching nipples.
His cock thrust inside my pussy, filling me. Fucking me.
Using me.
Claiming me.
The pull was so strong I sensed a gasp erupting from the edge of darkness, a sweet abyss I was ready to slip and slide into as if drunk on shots of tequila.
Wow. I was lost in some erotic fantasy, but thank goodness the various disciplines I used for exercise curtailed my actions before I fell straight into a damning oblivion.
I managed to jerk my arm free. I even calmed whatever ridiculous reaction I’d just experienced and offered him a curt, as professional as possible look.
In his eyes.
He took a step away, looking down toward the goods; of course he intended I’d follow his line of sight.
I didn’t, using every ounce of control. At least he seemed disappointed.
“I’m perfectly fine the way I am. Unless of course I make you uncomfortable. I would never want to do something so ungentlemanly.”
A series of nasty barbs was right on my tongue, but thankfully, I reminded myself that I truly was a professional.
I’d worked very diligently through the years to get to this position of respect.
Including dealing with assholes with God complexes.
This man I could handle with two hands tied behind my back.
“I’m fine. Would you like to sit or stand?”
“Why don’t we sit. I certainly want you made at ease as much as possible.
” Without waiting for me to agree because why would he, Beck moved to one of two long benches spanning the locker room.
So as not to be caught in a lie, I headed to the other.
Of course he decided to sit like a guy with his legs spread wide open, his junk free to breathe.
Did he not understand the power I wielded in my cheap but powerful red pen?
As I sat down, I clicked the pen, exposing the tip. “This is perfect. Now, why don’t you tell me what you love most about hockey.”
* * *
“Does Beck ‘the Devil’ Kendrick live up to the hype surrounding his talent on the ice? If the performance seen tonight during the matchup between the Portland Hellions and the Phoenix Blades is any indication, then I’d say the new franchise is lucky to have him on their team.”
Sitting back, I tapped my fingers on the keyboard, debating the last line I’d written on the article. Maybe a little too wishy-washy, but as much as a part of me hadn’t wanted to admit, all true.
The man was perhaps the most talented goalie I’d experienced since shifting my literary direction to hockey. At times like this, I wished I was still covering current events. Asshole politicians were easier to dissect.