Page 22 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Twenty-Two

Kailey

“Oh fuck,” I whispered. “Oh fuck.”

Smitty had driven me to my place, promising to pick me up in the morning since my car was still at the rink.

He’d come in.

I hadn’t explicitly invited him to, but I also hadn’t thought I had to. Because there wasn’t any doubt that our night wasn’t over.

The sun was still up.

I wasn’t remotely tired.

I didn’t want him to go.

Thankfully, he seemed content to stay as well.

He’d followed me into the kitchen, and I’d offered him another beer as I’d given him the tour of my place—which took all of two minutes, since it was a tiny apartment.

The Breakers paid well, I had a huge trust fund (one that I didn’t touch, because my father already had enough strings in my life that he liked to pull and manipulate), and my extra income from side projects.

I could afford a bigger place, but it was just me. I didn’t need a ton of space.

The small apartment was a benefit that evening.

Because my bed was in the same room as my TV, and after we’d made the rounds, I’d asked if he’d wanted to watch a movie.

We’d started on the couch, eating out of a bag of popcorn I’d popped in the microwave.

But we hadn’t watched the movie.

Instead, about ten minutes into the car chase kicking off the action flick, Smitty had snagged the remote, turned on a certain British reality TV baking show, and he’d turned hot eyes on mine.

I’d reached him first, launching myself into his arms, plunking down onto his lap.

And now…

He’d carried me to bed at some point, I’d lost my top again, he’d lost his, and?—

“Oh fuck,” I breathed, back arching, his hands all over me, his mouth finding my nipples, his hand reaching down between us and flicking open my jeans.

Yes.

I wanted that.

But also, he’d done all the touching so far.

I wanted to get my hands, my mouth on him.

So, I snagged his hand, drew it back up to my breast, and rolled into him. He was so big that I wouldn’t have been able to move him like that if he hadn’t let me, and the heated grin he sent my way when I ended up on top of him, told me why.

“Fuck, I love these,” he muttered, reaching for my breasts again, massaging them, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples, sending liquid desire between my legs, shivers dancing along my spine, need coiling in my belly.

“I love this ,” I murmured, stroking my hands down his chest. Big muscles, a light covering of hair, flat abs, and biceps that bulged as he worked my breasts.

Distracting me.

But I was on a mission.

And that mission was getting to touch the monster in his pants.

A stroke of his thumb along either side of my mouth. “Why you smiling, little bird?”

“I’m excited”—I shifted, tugged the waistband of his sweats—“that I finally get to feel this.”

Now he was smiling. “You’ve already felt it.”

Heat washing over me. My pussy convulsing, feeling all too empty. But I was a woman on a mission, and that mission was getting my hands and mouth on his cock.

His cock sprang free.

And yeah, it was even more gorgeous up close.

Standing hard and stiff and thick, veins pulsing along the sides, a bead of moisture on the tip. “Well,” I murmured, dragging the flat of my tongue along his shaft, “I want to feel more of it.” And then I sucked him into my mouth.

I hadn’t done much of this, felt like I was fumbling, especially when I couldn’t get much of him in without feeling like I was choking.

But he didn’t seem to care.

“Fuck, little bird,” he murmured, hips flexing, hands coming to my head, fingers weaving into the strands of my hair.

He didn’t push down, was just touching me, staying connected to me.

“Yes, oh my God, Kailey. That’s really fucking good.

Yeah, your tongue, flick your”—his hands flexed—“ fuck , right there, honey. Right?—”

He pulled me off, flipped me over, moving me like I weighed nothing.

Then his mouth was on mine, his tongue moving deep, his hands tracing up and down my sides, teasing my breasts before heading down, opening my jeans again.

Under my panties.

A warm hand on my pussy.

Finding my clit without a searchlight, pressing it hard, rocking it back and further.

“Oh fuck,” I breathed.

But some part of me didn’t want to find this alone. I wanted this with him. So, I managed to reach between us, to grip his cock and start stroking it in a rhythm that matched what he was doing between my legs.

“Little bird,” he said roughly, “you don’t have to?—”

I leaned up enough to press a kiss to his mouth. “Don’t stop,” I ordered, stroking faster. “Don’t stop and I won’t.”

Hot brown eyes on mine.

My chin lifted, and I met the challenge in them.

Then he smiled. “Fuck, little bird, I can’t wait to punish you for this later.”

I couldn’t either.

But, for the moment, I kept stroking, and he continued rubbing my clit, slipping a finger home, stretching me with that big, thick finger.

It wasn’t enough, not nearly.

But it was enough for that moment.

Because he was working me, and I was close, gloriously close. Thankfully, I knew that he was right there with me, his body beginning to tremble, his hips jerking, those fingers on me moving faster, harder.

Exactly what I needed.

“Smitty,” I moaned.

“Fuck, little bird, your hand is fucking magic.” His cock grew, hardened further. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come,” he warned. “I’m?—”

He pressed my clit hard with the pad of his thumb.

I was the one who came apart.

But he wasn’t far behind me, his body shaking, his hand by my head clenching into the blankets, his hips jerking.

And then, as the waves of pleasure began to subside, I felt it.

Hot jets of cum landing on my chest, dripping over my hand. His head dropped forward, he pushed into my grip, and his groans mingled with mine.

Fuck.

That was hot.

He collapsed to the side, not caring that I was a mess, tucking me against him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I was no better, feeling like I’d run…well, not a marathon, because that wasn’t my thing, would never be my thing. But definitely a 5K.

Eventually, our breathing slowed, and he got up, striding into the bathroom and returning with a damp cloth.

It was warm, I realized as he wiped me clean.

He’d waited for the water to get warm before cleaning me up.

A little piece of my heart broke off, sailed right through space, and landed in his lap.

And when he got up, took care of the towel, and came back, tugging the blankets up and over me, I knew that he’d keep it safe.

The following week, I pushed into my office, feeling a little down that Smitty was going to be away for the next eight days on an extended road trip.

It was part of the system, and since I wasn’t an essential member of staff, I wouldn’t be traveling with the team.

Normally, that would have thrilled me.

Not having to people?

But it wasn’t people when it was this team, these people who were becoming mine.

Hazel was staying—because she didn’t travel with the team either—but Pru was flying out, using the first part of the trip as a jumping point for her job as a scout. She’d be home before the guys, though, since her scouting wasn’t going to take as long.

How did I know all this?

The day before, as I’d been getting ready to leave and go to my place for dinner and another make-out-slash-oral-sex-extravaganza evening that ended with me falling asleep in Smitty’s arms, and him tucking me into bed before leaving in the wee house of the morning to catch his flight, Hazel had come into my office and asked me to go out to dinner with her in a couple of days on Thursday night with her friend, Beth, along with Pru, and Raph’s pregnant girlfriend—new fiancé—Monica.

Thursday night apparently meant it was Cheese Extravaganza Night.

Which sounded incredible (although not as incredible as the Oral Sex and Touching His Yummy Body Extravaganzas I’d had with Smitty), especially since it was at CeCe’s, and I not only had a special place in my heart for the restaurant and bar because it was where I and Smitty had gone that first night, but also because… cheese.

Yum.

More than that, I’d said yes.

I’d said yes.

Without nerves coiling in my stomach, without my throat closing up and words stoppering up in the back of it, without worrying—too much, anyway—that there would be new people there I hadn’t met before.

Not Beth, who was lively and energetic and impossible not to like. I had met her a few times since she’d begun working for the team, as she, Pru, and Hazel were all very close and she visited often now that her two best friends lived in Baltimore.

But Monica was an unknown element.

Still, I’d been crushing the anxiety game of late.

It was time to keep working on it.

And if Monica was a troll, at least I would get fried cheese.

Win-win.

Smiling as I closed my office door, I flicked on the lights and…stopped, my breath catching. Because my office wasn’t empty. Wait—no. It was empty of people, save me. It just had several non-human occupants making themselves at home on my desk.

A pair of plants.

The same flowers from the barbecue several weeks before.

“Oh, Smitty,” I whispered, realizing that he must have planted one for me that day and kept it alive for me ever since.

I moved across the room, tracing my finger lightly over the velvet soft red petals.

It was brightly colored and cheerful…and had a note tucked in beneath the leaves.

Laughter bubbled up and out of my mouth when I realized the first one was Smitty’s pot, and the note was instructions on the care and feeding of Bailey, his flower.

There was a postscript at the bottom, though, with an arrow to turn over the page.

And on the back was a cute drawing of the pair of us in cartoon form, hearts overhead, and the words,

Because sometimes winning means getting a little help.