Page 60 of Penalty Box
“What do you say we forget about the truck, and what you said this morning?”
“And then what?”
And then I kissed her.
Not careful, or slow. I kissed her like there was no getting enough. And even while our tongues brushed against each other, I knew it would never get close to ever being enough.
She pushed into me, hands balled up in my shirt, dragging me closer until we were flush against the side of the truck. I spun her around, lifting her easily as I set her down on the tailgate. Her legs parted instinctively to wrap around my hips, and I pressed in tight, groaning at the contact. Fully clothed, the friction between us was blinding.
Cass gripped my shoulders, breath hot and ragged against my mouth. “You’re making it very hard to pretend we’re just friends.”
“Wanna know what else is hard?” I kissed down the line of her throat, teeth grazing her collarbone as I bucked my hips hard.
She gasped, grinding against my cock as it got even harder. I used the small moment of surprise to pull back and lift her shirt over her head. No bra. Arousal flooded my cock to the point where it ached with how much I wanted her.
I bent and took one nipple into my mouth, dragging my tongue over it until she moaned, low and helpless. Her fingers raked through my hair, guiding me, holding me in place.
She rocked against me and I moved to meet each roll of her hips, harder than before. Trying to push through the barrier of clothing keeping me from feeling her fully. I still remembered how warm her pussy felt wrapped around my throbbing cock. How wet…
“Mason…”
“Yeah?”
But before she could finish her sentence, my last restraint faltered and I pushed her jeans down just enough to hook my fingers into the elastic of her underwear. A desperate moan shuddered through me as I made contact with the slick arousal waiting for me there. She was already soaked, and my fingers slid easily up and down over her clit. Again and again.
She was panting now, eyes wide and pupils blown. I kissed her hard, swallowing her strangled cry of pleasure as I dipped a finger inside. The memory of her tight pussy clamping down on my cock was still fresh, and I was sure I’d go mad if I didn’t feel it again.
But then she tensed up, and not in a good way.
I felt it the second she pulled back, just a fraction.
“No,” she said, breath catching. “I— I can’t.”
I didn’t know what to say. I eased my finger out, and just looked at her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, cheeks burning. She shifted, taking herself totally out of my reach. “I just… I have a late assignment, and my professor isn’t going to grant me another extension.”
I nodded, throat tight. “It’s okay.”
She slid off the back of my truck and fumbled with her shirt to cover up quickly. My hard-on wasn’t that easy to hide, and I sank onto the workbench with one foot crossed over my leg.
“We’re going to run out of excuses before either of us stops feeling this,” I said, watching as she slowly turned to face me.
She didn’t reply, even though I could see at least a million thoughts rushing in her eyes. And like that, without saying anything, she grabbed her jacket and left. Wrecking me for the second time in one day.
18
Cass
The Seattle Kraken had no idea what hit them.
From the moment the puck echoed off the boards, the Surge skated like they were possessed. Clean, ruthless execution. Passes weaved through traffic like thread through a needle. Precision like they could read each other’s minds.
But it was Mason who kept stealing my breath, over and over, like he had some private vendetta against my self-control. He was everywhere. On the forecheck, chasing rebounds, slamming into the glass to win possession.
The crowd roared every time he touched the puck, giving him even more fuel to go harder and faster.
Midway through the second period, a Kraken defenseman leveled him with a shoulder check that rattled the boards. I stiffened behind the glass, breath frozen. But Mason popped up fast, jaw tight and eyes blazing. His mouth moved—trash talk, I was sure of it—and the next play, he came back with a vengeance.
