Page 24 of Cracked Ice (The F*cked Up Players #1)

ten

A s she descends from her orgasm, I rest the flat of my face against her soft tits.

They feel like squishy marshmallows against my skin, sticky and warm.

The ice is more welcoming than hurting now that she’s worked up a sweat.

It cools my skin and tempers the urge to take more than I should right now.

I keep our bodies pressed to one another as we lay over center ice, our legs tangled, and my arm wrapped possessively over her.

She doesn’t move or even complain.

Her heart is beating fast, thrumming against my cheek, and the rise and fall of her chest moves me to the rhythm of her exhales, as if we’re of one body.

I feel for my own heart, sliding my hand up her thigh, over her torso and to my chest, but it’s beating a lot slower.

My face scrunches. I want us to be in sync.

I suppose I can’t expect to be as winded as my Little Stalker Princess here. I’ve barely done anything to work up a sweat. Long shifts in a contact sport like hockey will do that to you. I’ll have to work on her stamina, but for now I’m going to need a little more patience.

“That was . . . amazing . Thank you.” Sydney pants her appreciation like a sated puppy.

I pop my head up from her chest, staring down at her flushed complexion and lust-filled eyes.

Oh man, that patience is thinning quickly.

She thanked me and the appreciation shown in her eyes is enough to incite round two.

Yeah, if we don’t leave right the fuck now, I’m going to say fuck patience and have all my fun right here on this ice.

I hop up and stand before her, looking down at my masterpiece.

She doesn’t get up right away, instead taking a moment to catch her breath.

I take full advantage. Pulling out my phone, I snap a quick picture before helping her up and tucking my phone back in my pocket.

I’m going to mark this moment as the day I caught my princess.

“Wait, did you just take a picture?” she asks, as she holds her bound wrists out toward me.

“Yes, I did,” I answer, untying her ribbon restraint.

“What for? Delete it!” she gripes.

I hover my hand over the final knot, waiting before I pull it free. Bending my head down, I look her right in the eyes. “This way I’ll never forget what you look like . . .” I drop my voice to a whisper, then tack on, “after you come for me.”

I pull the final knot and her hands slip free. She wastes no time lunging for my phone, but she only manages to grab my very hard dick.

I grunt in satisfaction, and she panics, trying to pull her hand away, but I’m faster. I palm my hand right over hers.

“You wanna play with it?” I taunt, squeezing our fingers over my thickening erection, drawing out the discomfort and relishing in the pain of her grip over my cock.

“Oh my . . .” she gasps.

But her fingers remain pressed to my hard-on even when my hold loosens.

She doesn’t notice that I’m no longer controlling her movements when she squeezes again.

I groan when her eyes fall to my mouth as I bite my lower lip.

She gasps again when I move her hand down my length.

Her eyes flick to where our hands are then back up. It’s a quick glance, but it’s enough.

I lean in closer, watching the sweat bead against her forehead and closer still to feel her breath skitter over my lips.

“If you’re really good, I’ll let you.”

I keep my voice low, the instinctual urge to capture those lips between my teeth a strong presence I hadn’t anticipated. I pull back from her and wink. Her throat bobs. Well, would you look at that? She’s considering it .

“I— Uh— It’s so . . . big.” She looks at me wide-eyed, slightly panicked that she’s admitted it aloud.

A-fucking-dorable. There’s an innocence in her timbre that makes my cock jump against her hand.

She jerks back, frightened by the movement, but I grab her hand and put it back.

I need her to feel the effect she has on me.

I don’t want there to be a doubt in her mind that I want her.

Or that I won’t succeed in making her mine.

“This is what you do to me.” My cock presses through the thick cotton sweats against her palm.

“And you’re going to take all eight inches like a good fucking toy.

” Her lips part on a whimper. “By the end of the night, you’re going to thank me properly and you’re going to give me all those beautiful screams when I destroy you with it.

” I can’t help but to giggle in excitement. “It’s going to be so fun !”

I let her snatch her hand away this time and she promptly slips her thumb back between her teeth as she closes her eyes, attempting to bite back either a snarky remark or a moan.

Neither is a deterrent. When they open again, she’s a little calmer but much more curious looking.

It’s the curiosity that draws me closer to her.

She shakes her head, releasing her thumb.

“Are you like this all the time?” she asks. Though her exasperation doesn’t go unnoticed, there’s a blush and tentative smile decorating her face.

“Depends. What am I like, Princess?”

She raises her hand between us as she ticks off her list.

“So impulsive and direct . . . filthy and disgusting . . . dangerous and scary—”

“Oh, Princess, stop it. You’re going to make me blush,” I say, giving her my best fuck-boy smile.

“How charming,” she deadpans.

“What can I say, it’s one of my better qualities.”

I give her another wink. I can be very charming.

“Oh, I bet the ladies just love you,” she says. I know she’s making another dig at me, but there’s an undercurrent of jealousy in her tone that I love. It drives me to reassure my plaything that I don’t do this with everyone, that she is different from all the others.

“Eh, I’m on most girl’s no-fly list. I’m not exactly Prince Charming, despite my winning personality,” I grin.

“Gee, you don’t say. Can’t imagine why.” Her arms fold and she feigns an air of nonchalance, but her shoulders sag in relief and her stare is less pensive. Winning personality or not, she’s as drawn to me as I am to her and that just makes her that much more worth keeping.

That’s right, Princess, lay your claim on me.

“I don’t always play so nicely with others . . . but I’ll play with you. I can’t promise I’ll be nice, but it’ll at least feel good,” I say.

That gets a laugh out of her. “Oh my gosh, you really are something.”

“As long as I’m something you’ll let inside you, that’s just fine with me,” I answer.

Again, she rolls her eyes, but it doesn’t have the desired effect on me. It only makes me think how they’ll roll when her pussy’s stuffed full of my cock.

“So, what? You scare me, lick me, bite me, and follow me here all because you want to play ?” She arches a sculpted brow. “And by ‘play’ you mean you want to fuck me? Do I have that right?”

“No.” Her face falls in obvious disappointment. “I had already decided when I caught whoever was stalking me that I was going to fuck them. All the stuff before was just foreplay.” I tongue my lower lip, grinning when her eyes trail from my eyes to my mouth.

“Foreplay?” She scoffs a laugh. “Seriously? You thought what we were doing before was foreplay ?”

I cock my head, letting my hair swoop from my face.

“Wasn’t it though?” I goad.

“No.”

“No?” I repeat. Pretty sure she was having the time of her life when she was provoking me with her messages.

She shifts her weight between feet, struggling to settle back into her confident stance from before.

“I mean . . . not at first. It was—it’s not something I can easily explain,” she says.

“Then don’t,” I shrug.

She scoffs again, unable or unwilling to accept this for what it is.

“So, you thought ‘someone’ was stalking you and your first thought was to fuck them?”

“Well, fuck them or kill them, but no worries. I decided in the locker room I wouldn’t kill you, so we’re all good on that front,” I say.

Her face drains of color but there’s not a thing for her to worry about. She’s something special . I would much rather keep her than kill her.

Her eyes widen.

“Jesus Christ, you’re being serious, aren’t you?” She seems a little shocked for someone who spent her waking hours stalking me.

“What? You stalker types are dangerous . I was being cautious,” I say.

Her cute fists ball at her sides and she stomps her foot petulantly, her skates scuffing the ice.

“For the last time, I’m not a stalker. And you couldn’t have been that cautious if your only two options were murder or fucking.”

I’d be all ears if she had a third option, but something tells me she doesn’t.

I shove my hands in my pockets.

“I’m getting the feeling that you’re getting really hung up on the killing thing . . .” I tilt my head as if the better angle will help me decide her point. “Or is it the fucking thing that’s got you all hot and bothered?”

“I’m not hot and bothered,” she says, even as a blush creeps across her cheeks.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“So, you don’t want to fuck me?” I clarify. “Because I’m pretty sure you just came in your leotard from me rubbing your pussy through your clothes.”

Pink hues spread all the way to her chest like wildfire. She shouldn’t bother lying to me. Those fucking lies she tells won’t save her anymore.

“Oh, wow . You’re a cocky fucker, aren’t you?” she teases.

“No, I’m a painful fucker. I like to incorporate pain when I fuck. But you like pain, don’t you, Princess?”

I really need her answer to be yes or it’s going to make playing with her next to impossible. I’d even settle for her having a high pain tolerance. I’m far from gentle, a fact my little stalker is very aware of at this point, and she sought me out anyway.

“What makes you say that?” she breathes.

Aww, she’s playing coy, how cute.

“Aside from the fact you came harder when I bit your nipples?” My finger brushes over her nipple, reminding her how good it felt. She shivers from the reminder, doing little to shake me off or prevent me from doing it again.