Page 29 of Cracked Ice (The F*cked Up Players #1)

“Oh, Princess. I haven’t even begun messing with you,” he laughs, his shoulders shaking his bag and equipment in the process. A mad scientist cackle that jars me forward again.

“Hey, wait!” I shout.

“Keep up, buttercup,” he shouts back.

I have to jog, but I eventually catch up to him.

As we walk in sync, I feel compelled to clear up one thing.

I may not like my situation, but I don’t want to burn it all down either.

And I certainly don’t want anyone to die.

I respect what my father has built, what he’s managed to achieve. What I’ve achieved.

“He’s a good person. And a good dad. He just wants what’s best for me.”

Lucien’s silent for a beat, and I can’t help but think he’s probably wondering why I think he’d care about my life story or recent struggles. He just wants to play, to fuck, nothing more. So why tell him any of this? Who cares what he thinks?

You do.

“There’s few things truly good in the world,” he remarks, and I’m unsure what he means by it. I do my best to refrain from lashing out and demanding he tell me, though I’m well aware it’d earn me nothing good.

“I disagree. I’d like to think most people are good people, even when they are pushing me around.

Sometimes . . .” I take a calming breath, suppressing the rising anger and need to snap at him.

“It feels good to push back. It feels good to look down at others, so you can stand a little higher and not have to feel so low. And today . . . was a low day for me.”

We finally arrive in front of an all-black muscle car that reminds me of Dominic Toretto’s from that one movie, but before I know it, I’m being pressed up against it and Lucien’s dropping his bag at our feet.

“What are you—” I start.

“Then I guess I better make this the best day of your goddamn life, Princess.”

His lips crash against mine and to merely describe it as fireworks would be insolence. It’s explosive. Atomic. Nuclear. I’m moaning so deeply into his mouth, I’m practically growling.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he whispers against my lips. “Do it again.”

I comply without hesitation, dropping the heavy bags from my shoulder too.

“So many delicious sounds,” he muses.

I let my tongue explore the entirety of his mouth.

I want to taste every bit of him, feel the tiny taste buds against his tongue.

Trace the etches of his teeth, caress the feel of his gums. I want to remember the shape of his lips and solder the pillowy soft feel of them into my mind’s eye.

It’s excessive, as is everything with me.

I kiss him like I’m dying, like this is my last act on this earth before I’m swallowed into that deep pit of nothingness six feet under.

I’d feel embarrassed if Lucien’s kiss wasn’t equally consuming.

He kisses like he fights: to win. It’s brutal, yet there’s a precision to it.

Every stroke of his tongue has purpose, and his fingers claw at me like he’s ready to rip my clothes off.

He balls the fabric of my costume and pulls me in.

True to his word, he elicits more sounds from me that come from a place I hadn’t known existed.

I wrap my arms around his neck. Our bodies are flush together and I can feel the evidence of what our connection is doing to him.

The kiss starts to hurt, but we keep going, the pain not a deterrent. It feels good. He makes it feel good. There’s a sharp pull on my lip and I rear back.

“You bit me!”

“You bit me first,” he retorts, smirking in response to my horror.

Sure enough, his tongue slips out and he prods at a small cut along the pink of his lower lip, fresh blood in the wound. He was right. Holy shit, I did bite him.

I’m poised to apologize, but he pulls me back to him, ravaging me again. I could die right now, and he’d still be fulfilling his promise. Kissing him like this . . . it’s already the best day ever.

His hands grow more frantic, and my body moves of its own accord, seeking the pleasure hidden beneath too many layers of clothes.

“Mm, fuck, I want to keep kissing you,” he says.

“Then don’t stop,” I practically plead.

His strong hands pin my waist to the door, preventing more movement and stalling our connection, but still we kiss.

“If we don’t stop, I’m going to fuck you on the hood of this car and make you come all over the both of us. It will be quick, and dirty, and uncomfortable as hell.” I’m not sure if he’s trying to deter me or encourage me.

“I don’t care,” I breathe.

And I don’t. The way I feel with Lucien, about Lucien, is a feeling unlike anything I’ve ever known before.

It’s a strange toxic mix of obsession and captivation with an intensity that burns through my veins.

His hand grips my jaw as he descends on me again, holding me still as he devours my moans.

I swallow harshly, barely able to breathe through the kiss.

It catches his attention as the tension between us rises again.

He clutches my throat in his grasp and another moan escapes my lips.

I’m fully under his control now and it’s a power I don’t mind yielding to.

“Open,” he commands. I’m not sure if he means my mouth, or my legs, but both accommodate him without thought .

“Seems I was right,” he remarks, settling deeper between my thighs. His low voice and thick timber rolling through me as he speaks.

“About what?” I ask, his mouth trailing my neck before he bites me for the second time tonight. I hiss through clenched teeth then moan when he licks away the sting.

He pulls back an inch from the kiss.

“You are a good girl,” he croons.

My tongue swipes over my swollen lips while I stare at the pink glitter gloss that stains his from our kisses. He seems unbothered with the sticky residue when he mimics the motion, savoring the taste.

“I guess I was right too. You are crazy,” I say.

He glances toward the hood of the car and then back to me, flashing me a mischievous grin. His hands snake around my thighs as he hoists me against the side door of his car.

“Forget the hood. I should fuck you right here and show you just how crazy I can be,” he threatens. I want him inside me more than I want air. It’d hurt like hell, but what’s pleasure without pain?

Unfortunately, it’s not up to me because loud voices interrupt us and rob me of the decision.

“Morningstar!” barks a random guy in the distance, slicing the shrouded tension of lust encasing us with one swift word.

“So, you have energy to fuck, but not to win games, huh?” shouts another guy.

“We had money on tonight’s game. What the fuck was your problem!” says a third.

Where did they even come from?

“Yeah, you played like shit!”

I peer past Lucien’s shoulder to see who would dare make such an outlandish claim.

He scored three of the four goals they had.

That’s the opposite of a bad game, I would think.

But one look at the one leading the pack tells me everything I need to know.

He walks up to us with his friends on either side in triangle formation like some cheesy movie.

They’re a bunch of drunk guys itching for a fight, but they could still prove to be a hindrance to our night.

I glare at them for ruining our moment and talking nonsense. “Go away. Can’t you see we’re busy.” I’m basically whining, but this is my first and probably last kiss with Lucien and they’re ruining it!

At first, Lucien pays them no mind, he just trails kisses down my throat, alternating between nips and licks.

His focus remains on me, and I try to fall back into the moment with him.

It felt so good, it doesn’t even bother me that they’re watching, but then they’re opening their big stupid mouths again.

“Look, bitch, this doesn’t concern you. We’ll let you suck our cocks later, but first we have business to handle with Morningstar,” the tall one says.

“I don’t know, boys, she’s kinda hot. I say we put our business on hold so she can suck me right now.” This from the ugly one. He blows a kiss at me and winks. I grimace, my stomach roiling at his gesture.

“I’m game,” sneers the third.

Lucien sits me down and my hands tighten around his neck, fingers interlaced at his nape, instinctively seeking comfort in his arms as I stand there, offended.

I stare at them, slack-jawed at the audacity to speak to me like that, but I say nothing, refusing to resort to their level.

They’re just angry they lost money and are probably more than a little intoxicated too.

By the looks of them they obviously don’t go here, and they aren’t worth the trouble of wasting precious time with Lucien, so I keep my lips sealed.

I give them one disappointing shake of my head before directing my eyes back up at Lucien.

But the look on his face has me dropping my arms from his shoulders as I suck in a hurried breath, soaking in the frightening expression in his eyes.

Though all too quickly I realize what a mistake I’ve made because he lunges for them, and I’m forced to watch in fascinated horror what Lucien unhinged is really like.