Chapter 2 – Seth
Brianna’s body moves against mine, and just like that, I’m hard.
Look, I tried. I really did. But when little Ms. Harley Quinn slid up to me while I was just trying to get to know my soon-to-be teammates of the Mayhem, I stood no chance.
I mean, I’m dressed like one of the ugliest characters in cinematic history.
This isn’t exactly my best look. I'm not at my peak right now. And yet, she flirted with me. For a man who’s starving for some human connection, that’s all it took.
So, either she’s into some weird shit, or she recognizes me from the San Diego Suns—the hockey team that I’m still playing for until my transfer to the Manhattan Mayhem is finalized next summer, or she’s just as lonely as I am tonight.
At this point, I have no idea which it is, and I’m not interested in asking questions when she’s this pretty to look at.
She spins, pressing her front to mine, and yeah, she has to feel it.
She can pretend all she wants, but I know.
I’m a man. I’ve unintentionally seen hundreds of dicks growing up in sweaty locker rooms as a professional hockey player.
Mine is big, and it’s been a long fucking time since I’ve been with a woman, which means I’m already hard grinding against her.
Her hands move across my pecs and find my neck, fingers tangling in my way-too-long hair.
She plays with it a little, tugging, and it’s a good thing I have on this mask, or she’d see a grown man fighting hard not to moan.
I used to give my older brother Boone shit about never getting a trim, but now that my life’s been circling the drain, I guess it’s my turn to let things go. Starting with my hair.
She pushes her soft chest against me, and fuck, that shirt is way too low.
I mean, her tits are spilling out of it so I’m not complaining, but Brianna is all exaggerated curves and suppleness.
It’s difficult to focus on anything but her right now.
I tug playfully on one of her pigtails. It’s not my usual thing on a woman, but it’s Halloween, and I have to admit, I like the red color of them.
“You wanna get out of here?” she asks me, her light eyes shining with excitement. I don’t even hesitate. I’ve been ready to leave with her since the moment she walked up to my table.
I grab her hand, guiding her through the crowded bar and out onto the street, where I flag down a cab.
The second that one stops for us, I open the door, letting her slide in first before I follow.
I’m not big on PDA, but I’m turned on and know exactly where this is headed, so my hand finds her bare thigh covered in fishnet, resting there, squeezing lightly.
She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts closer, pressing into my side, her fingers toying with the waistband on my pants while the driver weaves through the late-night traffic.
Technically, I didn’t have to come to this mandatory team event.
I’m not officially part of the Mayhem yet.
But I did it for my brother and for my future teammates.
To start laying down roots before my world gets turned upside down again.
But a night with this woman? The one who doesn’t know me, doesn’t know all the baggage I’m dragging into the new year?
Yeah, that sounds like a much better option.
She looks up at me and smiles. I smile back at her.
I wonder what she thinks about me. I like the way she looks, pretty, soft red hair and green eyes with a slim nose and full lips that are painted almost blood red though it’s a bit smeared which I think is part of the costume.
She looks a little unhinged, a little wild and a lot beautiful. She smells good, too. Like a woman.
I’m only in town for the holiday weekend.
It’s a quick, mandatory meeting with the Mayhem’s coach and team owner before I fly back to the West Coast to finish out the season with the Suns.
My daughter is spending the night with my brother’s wife, Rosie, in a small town named Brookhaven, Connecticut about two hours from here, going Trick-or-Treating which means my hotel room is empty and there will be no interruptions, no responsibilities, just… this.
I don’t know anything about Brianna, but after a dry spell this long, after weeks of dealing with lawyers and contract negotiations, when a woman shows interest in you while you’re wearing an ugly as fuck sloth mask, you don’t ask too many questions around the reason she’s into you.
The second we hit my hotel’s lobby she’s giggling and pulling me along to the elevator.
And the moment the doors slide shut behind us, I’m on her, shoving my mask back and up, forgetting all about the prosthetic teeth I have in as I crush my lips against hers to get a taste of that pouty, red mouth.
Her lips—fuck, these lips—soft and plush as she opens up for me, letting me take what I want. My tongue demands entry, and she gives it, and then—Aw, shit. My fake teeth slip loose, practically falling into our open mouths where they’re connected.
“Fuck,” I grunt.
She jerks back, eyes going wide. “Oh my god.”
Then she bursts out laughing, covering her face while my tongue works the rest of the prop teeth loose. I keep her pinned between my arms and hips as the elevator glides upward.
“For a second, I thought you were wearing dentures.”
“Well, that’s embarrassing.”
She giggles again. “Top five funniest things that have ever happened to me while making out with a guy.”
I yank out the fake teeth, toss them to the ground, then grab her by the throat, guiding her face back to mine as I kiss her again.
It’s slower this time. I drag my tongue along that fat bottom lip as I squeeze gently around her slender throat and enjoy her taste.
It’s a little like the alcohol she was sipping at the bar mixed with her warmth.
She melts into my chest and lets me hold her.
When we break for air I say, “Tell me about the other four times.”
The mask comes off and her eyes find my face for the first time.
They move slowly across my features. Jaw, mouth, eyes, like she's taking inventory, and whatever she finds there, she likes.
No recognition, no agenda. Just heat. I can't remember the last time a woman looked at me like I was enough exactly as I am, hair too long, rougher face and all.
“One time, my lip got stuck on a guy’s braces in middle school. That hurt. At least this didn’t hurt. I imagine this is what it would be like making out with a grandpa.”
“You’ve made out with a grandpa?”
She shakes her head. “No, but you’re the first dad I’ve ever made out with.”
I've taken too many pucks to the head because I like that more than I should.
“Good. I forgot I had the teeth in because I got caught up in these fucking lips,” I say softly, giving her bottom lip another soft nip.
She hums like she likes that, her nails scratching at the back of my neck, and when she kisses me again, deeper, she bites my bottom lip in return.
The elevator dings. Her teeth sink in harder, just enough to make my cock twitch in my jeans, and our eyes lock—hers, bright green and sharp with mischief, mine hazy, full of lust. My hands slide down, cupping the curve of her tits, liking the weight of them, tracing down to her wide hips, memorizing her shape.
And then I’m hauling her out of the elevator, because if I don’t, I’m going to fuck her right here and probably end up on the news, needing a lawyer just like my brother did a year ago for his reckless behavior.
“My room’s right here.” Thank God it’s directly across from the elevator.
I dig the key card from my pocket, swipe it, and push the door open.
She doesn’t hesitate. Breezing past me, she heads straight for the bed, lifting her Daddy’s Little Monster top over her head and revealing her naked skin. No bra.
“Fuck,” I groan because there’s not a single ounce of hesitation in this woman and it’s been a while since I’ve seen a pair of nice tits in person.
Her fingers hook into the waistband of her denim shorts, yanking them down along with her fishnet leggings in one smooth motion.
She reaches up, pulling out the two ridiculous pigtails, letting her fire engine red hair tumble down in messy waves—the kind I already know I’ll be fisting while inside her later.
And just like that, she’s standing there. Totally naked and I’m completely hard.
She drops back onto the bed, rocking onto her hips and planting her feet on the edge before letting her knees fall wide open, giving me the perfect view of her soaked pussy. What the hell did I do to deserve a night with this woman?
Her hands hook behind her thighs, pulling herself open like she wants me to see every inch of her. And if I thought she might be shy, I should’ve known better from the costume alone. There isn’t a shy bone in her body, and I’m about as desperate for her as a puck is for the back of a net.
I walk to the edge of the bed and drop to my knees at the edge because, frankly, that’s where I belong—at eye level with her glorious, pink, and soaked for me pussy.
My fingers trace slow, teasing paths up the insides of her thighs, meeting at the center where I spread her open with two fingers, taking in the way she’s already glistening under the dim, shitty hotel lighting.
What a fucking gift.
It’s been a long damn time since I’ve had a new woman under me, and if I’m being honest, my confidence has been shot to hell these past few years.
A woman like Brianna? Gorgeous, mouthy, completely sure of herself?
I’m not entirely sure how to handle her without losing my damn mind.
But fuck, there’s a rush in it too. Something sharp and addictive about having someone new beneath my hands.