Page 40

N ot the first time, I’m dumbfounded, scratching my scalp like an ape and asking, “What the fuck?” And, no, it’s not because Lotte has eaten most of my food despite claiming she wasn’t hungry.

It’s because of something Troye Becker, Quinn’s secret boyfriend and Brady’s nemesis, just said. I’m sandwiched awkwardly between the pair, hoping my large frame might keep them from touching and Brady from imploding.

“How could I not have known this? Holy shit, suddenly, everything about you makes sense.” In perfect unison, two swift slaps are delivered to the back of my head. “What? It’s true. How could I not have known your moms are Carney’s?”

“They don’t like the term Carny, do they babe?” Quinn says, reaching around the back of my head to stroke Troye’s curls like you would trying to sooth a frazzled poodle. “Festival folk is the preferred moniker.”

Opposite me, Lotte drops her thick shake- covered fry to slap her hand over her mouth, stifling her laugh. But Brady, well, Brady’s still sulking and grumbling. “If it’s alright with everyone else, can we please focus on the point and not Becker’s sideshow family?”

“Ooh, ooh! Sideshow Troye!” Lotte squeals and the giggles she’s held back burst free. It’s sexy as fuck to see her so loose and relaxed in the company of so many people, but also a handy distraction.

Troye looks like he wants to kick Brady’s ass.

“Troye,” she coughs between hiccups, “I assure you I mean no offense. Sideshow Bob is probably my favorite Simpsons character of all time, which means Sideshow Troye is a top-notch compliment. Can I please assign it to you?”

A lazy smile, the kind I’ve not seen too much of lately, replaces Troye’s scowl. “Sure thing, Lotte. Been called worse.”

Lotte’s pumped, blinking with her little happy tics and it’s so cute I push Troye from the booth we’re all squished into and float to her like the lovesick fool I am. Once in arms reach, I lift her from her spot, sit and pull her into my lap. “I’ve never coined a nickname before, Noah. Maybe that can become my thing.”

“Anything you want can be yours, Lotte. I’ll make sure of it.” Burying my face into her neck, I nuzzle and kiss, dangerous on someone so sexy in such a public setting.

According to Brady, it’s also nauseating. “Look, I came here in good faith after being assured I wasn’t fifth wheel on a double date, yet here I am, screwed onto the back of Herbie the Love Bug.”

“I love Herbie!” Chorus Lotte and Quinn.

“Yeah, not the point,” groans Brady, “now are we talking about the bloody fundraiser, or not?”

“Not.” That’s Troye, his hands leaving Quinn’s leg, at least I hope it was her leg, so he can flick his discarded straw wrapper at Brady.

“Stop tormenting him, Troyeby.” Quinn scolds, “He’s right. We came to talk about Marty’s night. We need to focus.”

Under his breath, Troye mumbles something about how he would prefer it if she came , and I clear my throat and pretend we all didn’t hear it. “Right, so back to it. Coach Harris is handling the official team involvement and the rink prep. Brady, you’ve arranged the snacks and drinks. Lotte, you’re handling the music. Sideshow Troye here has whatever entertainment his moms are willing to donate, and …” I pause for dramatic effect, tilt Lotte and reach into my pocket for my phone. “I contacted Tampa. Coach Cole is down for the player vs coach drills, and he’s talking to some old buddies from the B’s about coming along.”

Four mouths, actually three cause Lotte has no clue who I’m talking about, fall open. Brady, in particular, is pumped. The rest of us have been around current and retired players in camps and draft events but growing up on the other side of the world means Brady has missed it all. “Holy shit! What players are we talking?” It’s the happiest I’ve seen him for weeks, bro is literally bouncing.

“Not sure, but as far as I know he’s still tight with his old line, so we might be looking atBergeronand Hale. He may have even mentioned Eriksson”

With that, he levitates from his seat, almost replacing Lotte in my lap.

“Nils Eriksson? Nils Eriksson the best goalie in the last decade Nils Eriksson?”

I nod proudly and toss him a wink. “The very one.”

“Was this goalieErikman, weird too?” Lotte asks innocently, earning another kiss.

“Eriksson,” Troye corrects, “And yes, the guy was a total freak. That’s why Skippy’s boner is stabbing me in the gut beneath the table.” If In-N-Out didn’t have the foresight to screw their tables to the floor, this one would be flipping through the air right about now.

“Fuck you, Becker.” Brady spits, rage emanating.

“You wish, Skip.”

And they’re at it again.

“They almost made it two minutes.” Lotte sighs as Troye and Brady trade verbal blows. Quinn’s been doing her best to play peacemaker all afternoon, but when the boys start kicking each other beneath the table, she’s had enough. With a roll of her eyes, she waves to me and Lotte, slips out of the booth, and disappears out the double doors before the boys even notice.

When the argument moves from hockey freaks and turns into international political slander, Lotte and I bail too.

I can think of many, many things I would rather be doing on my one night off from training. Watching two idiots fight over nothing is not one of them.

Lotte is quiet as we drive back to her apartment, her face is buried in a book with a hockey player, I’m much hotter than, on the cover. Normally I would get her to read out something cute or smutty, but right now her being distracted is handy. She looks fucking edible, and it lets me shamelessly ogle her insanely hot braids and tight little body, and she’s none the wiser.

Miles and miles of bare, golden skin begging to be kissed, and licked and caressed are criminally hidden beneath layers of varying shades of black.

Sweater, skirt, tights and scarf, all of it hide what I crave.

All of it needs to be gone.

I shift in my seat, adjusting the steel rod between my legs. I’ve got myself so hot and bothered, my sweats squelch against the leather, drawing her gaze. Her eyes track down from my face, landing where my hand rests on my upper thigh, her latest boyfriend becoming sloppy second as the novel falls from her grip.

“You know what I’ve never tried?” she asks, her voice deep and raspy.

“Nope, but I do know what I hope it involves.”

The air between us heavies as turns away, working her lip between her while staring out the window and silently watching the passing traffic.

“Pull over.”

“What, now?” I glance from the road to her and back again. “Are we talking an emergency bathroom stop, or does this have something to do with that something you haven’t done before?”

“Why don’t you pull over and find out.”

We’re on a three-lane road.

In the middle lane.

Does that stop me?

Tires and horns blast as I cut through traffic, navigate the pothole-filled emergency lane and pull into the first clearing I come too. We’ve barely stopped, dust is still floating when Lotte unclips her seat belt and slides along the bench seat. “Sitting on you in the restaurant gave me an idea. I want you to fuck me, Noah. I want to climb onto your lap, and ride you till you make me cuss and cry and come all over your big, hard dick.”

I’m frozen in place, too shocked and horny to form words. Thankfully, Lotte doesn’t need a verbal response, her hands are already busy pulling her tights down her creamy thighs. The first flash of black panties with pink bows, like a defibrillator to a lifeless heart.

“Not so fast, Little D.” I tut while also raising my ass so she can slide down my sweats, “Don’t get me wrong. Obviously, I’m up for this. But we’re in public. Me rutting into your tight little pussy for all the world to see, would be hot … and prosecutable.”

“And hot.”

“Very hot, yes. And illegal.”

“But, hot.”

“Hmm. I think we established that, but—” My faux protest dies a mere thought because Lotte’s placed her palm on my chest. Is swinging her leg over mine and that magical cunt of hers is hovering above my leaking cock. I run my fingers through the soaking mess I’ve got her pussy in and rub her clit with the pad of my thumb till she’s practically begging.

“I’d face a firing squad for this, Noah. Now fuck me, please.” With that she lowers her hips and slides down my length on one go, bottoming out so roughly the slap of her wet thighs against mine, stings. It’s a welcome pain, though. As too is the grip she has on my hair and the scrape of her nails on the skin of my neck.

Closing my eyes, I drop my head against the headrest and take a stilted breath, pleading with my nuts not to blow as she begins to grind. She’s so wet, so tight and slippery as she squeezes around me.

“Fuck you are gorgeous. Such a dirty girl.” I growl between sucking mouthfuls of clothed, glorious tits into my mouth,

“Yes,” she mewls, the slow roll of her hips switching to bouncing her ass against my thighs. “I want you inside me all the time.”

“And you can have me, too. Whenever you want. I’m yours Lotte. Yours for whatever you want. For as long as you want.” My hands are shaking with restraint. I want to pound up in to her. To make her scream so loud that every person, in every car creating the steady hum of traffic behind us hears her screaming my name.

But I also want this to last.

So I hold back. Let her continue to set the pace and release one of the hands currently squeezing her ass and cup her jaw, my thumb tracing, then pulling down her plump bottom lip.

“Open your mouth, baby girl. Let me watch you taste yourself.” Her moan, and the filthy sounds she’s making have my hips bucking up into her and shivers ricocheting up and down my spine. “Pretend it’s the cock I know you’re desperate to gag on.”

She opens wider, runs her tongue around the tip of my nail then sucks at the same time as she squeezes her cunt around me and that’s it. I pull my thumb from her mouth and take hold of her braid, wrapping it around my wrist once before tugging her head back and attacking her neck. I lick and suck, sinking my teeth into the tender flesh right where I can feel the thrum of her pulse. As she cries out, the world around us, the one that had faded into insignificance, comes back into focus.

Gravel shifting beneath tires. A horn.

Holy fuck.

It should make me stop. Should have me pushing Lotte off my lap and into her seat, but I do the opposite. I grip her tighter. Bounce her harder. The high of being caught bringing me to the brink of the most ice splintering orgasm I’ve ever felt.

“We’re going to be caught, little one. Everyone will see what a slut you are for my cock.”

“Noah.”

I slap my hand over her mouth and bite down on my own lip as we both explode. Every inch of our bodies, hands, feet, faces, are twisted together as a car door opening and closing joins our muffled cries. The little cognitive ability I have is enough to pluck Lotte’s blissed out, spent and spineless body off my lap and plop her beside me. I prop her up the best I can and only just slide my sweats over my softening cock when there’s a tap on the driver’s side window and a disturbingly familiar voice shrieks, “Noah? What the actual fuck?”

“Oh, hey, Claire. This isn’t what it looks like.”

It’s exactly what it looks like.

“This is exactly why I warned you to stay away from girls. Imagine if I’d have been a cop? What do you think an indecent exposure arrest would have done for your career? And you,” she scolds, turning her terrifying gaze to Lotte. “I trusted you. I brought you a fucking pink cake and gave you your first nickname, and this is how you repay me? You told me you loved him. That you wanted to support him and do that by seducing him on a national highway in broad daylight?”

“Hey!” Pushing off from the wall Claire had backed me into, I slot myself between Lotte and the raging tyrant. “I’m a grown fucking man. This wasn’t her idea.”

“I don’t give a fuck whose idea it was, it never would have happened had she not sunk her claws into you on the first place.” Something shifts in Claire; a palpable coldness glazes over her eyes as she glares at Lotte over my shoulder. “Maybe it’s best she hasn’t told that professor he’s her father. He’d only be as disappointed and disgusted in her as I am.”

I can’t see her face, but I hear and feel Lotte’s heart break. It’s the same moment my control snaps.

“One,” I growl, pointing my shaking finger in my sister’s face, “Don’t you dare speak about her like she’s not here, and two, don’t ever speak to me again.”

Claire’s face morphs into something slightly more recognizable seconds before I brace myself and turn to face Lotte … only Lotte’s not there.