Page 37 of Dirty Puck

Maybe I should’ve stayed to talk with the other women, but we weren’t really friends. Everyone stayed glued to their phones when not on stage, so I didn’t feel the need to make any big goodbyes.

Back in my car, I locked the doors then called Reece. “Did I wake you?” I asked when he picked up.

“Wake me? Woman, please. You in the bed next to me yet?”

“No.” I laughed.

“Then I’m not sleeping. You quit?”

“The deed is done,” I replied happily.

“Then you won’t be sleeping, either. Get your ass home. I’m ready to fuck it.”

Well, that thrilled me almost as much as it scared the hell out of me. I liked sex as much as any other twenty-something, independent woman, but my track record wasn’t exactly wild. The only two partners I’d had before? About as adventurous as a wet sponge.

Dane, Benny’s sperm donor, had tried ass play once.Once.That was enough for both of us to pretend it never happened. It hurt so badly that I’d screamed, clocking him as hard as I could, right in the jaw. Maybe I was naive, but I failed to see anyone allowing this if it regularly hurt that much. There had to be a trick that Dane knew nothing about. With Reece’s confidence and the way he made me feel, I soul-deep believed that he’d make it good for me.

When I pulled into the complex parking lot, Reece was standing in an empty spot next to his truck waiting for me. I barely had time to hop out and shut my door before he was stalking toward me, a plastic bag swinging from one hand.

He pinned me against the car and kissed the hell out of me.

His hands went everywhere—threading through my hair, gripping my ass, gliding up and down my back like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to touch most.

And his excitement lit me up like a fuse—hot, instant, and absolutely electric.

“Glad you’re done with the club,” he said, tearing his mouth from my neck. “I hate you coming home so late alone. It’s not safe and I worry about you.”

He worried about me? I’d had real boyfriends who never worried about me coming home at night. Yet again Baker Reece proved himself to be a good guy, even if he didn’t want the world to know it.

Rather than get emotional, I said, “I believe you wanted to fuck?”

The smirk spread across his face. He grabbed my hand leading me to the apartment. The man had my bra unclasped from under my shirt before we’d ever made it inside my place.

It was on.

Oh, Lord. I didn’t even make it past the doorway before Reece had me against the wall, mouth crushing mine, his greedy hands tore at my leggings and panties in a frenzied attempt to get me naked from the waist down. My bag hit the floor with a dull thud, and I barely caught my breath before he backed up just enough to shut the door behind me.

His eyes were dark, hungry. “Bedroom. Now.”

I didn’t argue. I couldn’t. I was already wet, already aching, already wrecked from the way he looked at me like I was the only thing he’d ever craved. He followed me in, close behind, and when I turned to face him, his shirt was gone.

A man on a mission.

“I brought something for you,” he said, voice low and wicked, as he set the plastic bag gently on the bed.

My heart thudded harder. “What kind of something?”

He opened the bag and pulled out a sleek, black vibrator and a long silk tie. I swallowed. Hard.

“Oh,” I whispered.

“Oh,” he echoed with a smirk. “Trust me?”

My pulse fluttered. “Yes.”

In a blur, he stripped me down—his hands reverent but fast, like he’d waited too damn long for this. He had me lie back on the bed, lifting my arms above my head, and used the silk tie to bind my wrists to the headboard. His gaze dragged slowly down my body like he wanted to memorize every inch.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, brushing his lips over my hipbone.

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