Page 47 of The Sweetest Risk

“Oooo is this part of my private tour? You know it has been my dream to see the inside of a locker room,” I say sarcastically. Tristan sets me down on a bench, leans down to take off his skates, then begins taking off my skates. Once he places the skates off to the side, he goes over to the entrance to the locker room, shuts the door and locks it. He strides over to me, with a mischievous look in his eye that I am all-too-familiar with.

“Why did you lock the door and why are you looking at me like that?”

“You wanted to be alone, right? I just want to make sure you get what you want, Cupcake.” He reaches behind me and grabs something hanging in the exposed locker. I look up and see the green strip says LAWSON.

“Yes,” I say hesitantly, “but I meant alone at your house. Where you have a nice big bed…or shower…or kitchen counter.” I give him an equally mischievous look. I am not holding back how much I want him. Even though Tristan is fully clothed, he is still the hottest man I’ve ever seen. Always has been.

He steps toward me, with what I am assuming is a Storm jersey in his hands, and growls, “I don’t need a bed to do the things I want to do to you, trust me.” Wild thoughts run through my imagination of what he could possibly mean and butterfliesfill my stomach from the excitement of all the possibilities. “Put this on.”

I unfold the green jersey and see the number 92 stitched on and his last name written across the back. I sigh and start putting my arms through the jersey. Tristan pulls the jersey away and shakes his head.

“What? I am doing what you asked. More like demanded, Hot Shot.”

He grabs my ponytail and tugs a little, forcing me to look up at him once more. “Maybe I need to be more clear, Cupcake. I want you to take off that pink sweatshirt and then put this on.” He wants to see if I am wearing what he bought me.

Without breaking eye contact with him, I murmur, “If you want it off me so badly, why don’tyoutake it off me?”

Tristan licks his lips and smiles smugly. Taunting me back, he slowly unzips my sweatshirt and tickles the sides of my torso as he lifts it over my head. I am now standing there in a lace pink bra. “I am surprised you want me to put on more clothes, Hot Shot.”

“The thing is,” he brushes a kiss on my collarbone and then whispers in my ear, “I have always wanted to fuck you in my jersey, Cupcake.” His words nearly destroy me as my body heats to the temperature of the sun. “Now, lift your arms up.”

I do what I am told without any protest. I feel the fabric of the jersey hit my blazing skin. The bottom of the jersey hits my mid-thigh. Without pause, Tristan runs his hands underneath the jersey and drags my leggings down to my ankles. His hands bunch up my leggings and I glide my feet out of them. He curses under his breath at the sight of the matching lace panties. He kisses my upper thighs. “You wore the present I gave you. That’s my good girl.” His hot breath sends tingles across my body and his rough hands move up the back of my legs. My knees buckleand he’s barely touched me. I know what this man is capable of and I want all of it.

He starts licking my inner thighs and I have to hold onto his shoulders to stop myself from toppling over.

“Tell me something, Cupcake. Was I shirtless?” He licks me again.

“Were you shirtless when?” I ask breathlessly, now tugging on his hair peeking through the bottom of his hat.

He groans. “In your dream. Was I shirtless?”

I swallow hard. “Yes.”

Tristan takes off his hat and pulls his own sweatshirt off from the back, simultaneously taking his t-shirt off along with it. Now he is standing in front of me, only in his joggers with his hair unruly. I unapologetically ogle at his taut muscles. He closes in and pins me against the wooden panel of his locker.

I reach underneath the jersey so I can take off my panties but Tristan’s hand stops me abruptly. “Don’t take them off.”

I crinkle my eyebrows. “But, I thought that…”

“I was going to fuck you? Don’t worry about that, Cupcake.” He reaches between my legs and pulls my panties to the side, brushing his fingers against me. I squirm a little and moan. Tristan grins because this is exactly how he wants me. Completely at his mercy.

He spreads my legs further and eases his dick into me. I cover my mouth to keep from screaming but his hand grabs my wrist and pins it above my head. “No one is going to hear us down here. You can scream my name as loud as you want.”

He doesn’t pause. He doesn’t hold back. The fire in his eyes tells me that he has been craving me as much as I am craving him. I rock my hips towards him and he does not hesitate to respond. This man is consuming me with every touch and movement and kiss. He sucks on my neck as he thrusts harderinto me and I squeeze my legs tighter against his body and arch my back.

“Please, don’t stop.” I clutch his hair with my hands.

“This is how I always want you, Brooke. With your legs spread wide open for me, taking me like a good girl and begging me for more.”

I feel so outside my body but in my body all at once. There is so much pressure built up from mere days of not seeing him. Not having his hands caress my body. Not having him say my name with his deep, alluring voice.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, baby,” he heatedly says and the cadence of his voice traverses across my body. I glide my tongue into his mouth and allow myself to really savor this moment with Tristan. Taking in everything he is offering up to me. Nothing is off-limits for us anymore. I let my body react to him freely, without worry that I’m too much or want him too much. I know that he wants me with equal measure.

I feel my body start to tense and my toes curl under as his tongue explores my mouth and he rams into me harder. Pleasure tingles throughout my body and I nearly collapse against him. I am expecting him to come, too, but instead he pulls out and says, “Turn around.”

Still breathless, I say, “What?”

“I said, turn around,” he says roughly.

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