Page 39 of Cracked Ice (The F*cked Up Players #1)

“I’m not going to fuck you . . . yet,” he clarifies.

“Why not?” I quip.

Serenity, Sydney, serenity .

“Because . . .” His head tilts and his wet hair flops to one side.

He’d be adorable if he wasn’t looking at me like I’m his prey.

“Right now, you’d break far too easily.” He traces the edges of my collarbone with his finger.

“I’d like to make sure you can handle me first, so I don’t crush you.

” His finger drags up the column of my throat, then flicks my chin. “At least not yet.”

I have no doubt that he’d be a bit much for any first timer, but he doesn’t get it. It doesn’t matter if he rips me in two, we only have tonight. He could break me a thousand ways and glue me back together and it still wouldn’t change the fact that I’m leaving tomorrow.

“And playing these little games of yours will prove that I can handle it?” I ask.

He just shrugs, making me want to wrap my hands around his throat again and not let go.

The water beats against his back as steam bellows around us. Yet, somehow, he looks even more formidable, like not even the water can win against him.

“You can learn a lot about a person by watching how they compete. The game or task doesn’t really matter, it’s how you handle it that makes the biggest difference to me.

So, if you can’t handle this, well then, it’s probably best we don’t have sex.

” His hands tangle in my hair and scratch across my scalp, not the least bit hindered by my scar.

He tilts my head up to meet him. “Besides, I don’t need to fuck you to have fun with you.

You’ve proven that already. I could ruin you without ever giving you my dick.

” He chuckles, the psycho look in his eyes bright as he threatens to withhold from me the one thing I desire most.

“Please, Lucien,” I beg, unbothered with how I might sound anymore.

“Shh shh shh, I’ll be taking my sweet time with you, Princess,” he promises.

I whimper when he draws me closer, petting my head. His golden eyes reflect anything but sweet intentions.

“Now you have six minutes to touch me however you want.”

“I thought you said seven”

He smirks.

“Clock’s ticking, Princess.”

I waste no more time. I have him naked in my shower for six minutes and I’m going to use every second to marvel at him.

Using the pad of my middle finger, I trace the outline of his face, swiping first over the bridge of his nose, then his cheekbones, then his lips.

I’m tempted to kiss him, but I’m not sure how I’ll be able to stop if I start. Kissing him is my new favorite thing, but I won’t let this moment go to waste.

Water cascades down his face, causing his hair to stick to his forehead.

I lightly brush it away at first, but it flows right back to its original spot.

He has a beautiful head of hair, dark and wavy.

Though the water weighs his curls down, same as mine.

Still . . . I wonder if I can cut a piece of it and keep it. Maybe I can make something out of it.

Jesus, this is why he thinks you’re a stalker, Sydney .

I spend a moment longer than necessary fiddling with his hair before I rake my hands through it, straining on my tiptoes as I pull it back from forehead to nape. His low growl hums through my fingertips when I pull harder.

“Do it again.” I whisper his words from earlier.

He grins and his neck cranes back the harder I pull, exposing his throat to me.

I said I wouldn’t kiss him, but I said nothing about biting him.

I lick tentatively at first, allowing the warm water to slide over my tongue before I clamp down, savoring the bite.

He moans and even that tastes delicious.

My hands glide through his hair again, before trailing my palms down his muscled neck to his shoulders and chest.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

I tuck my lower lip behind my teeth, hiding the smirk that threatens to reveal his effect on me.

“Careful, Princess,” he warns, a wicked smile on his lips.

“I don’t think I will.”

Lucien’s brow arches.

“You’d said “to my heart’s content.”” I glance at his chest then back up. “I have a big heart.”

His laugh is infectious, “Oh, of that, I have no doubt.”

I continue tracing every rivulet, blemish, and freckle his body possesses. Every mole, scar, and vein, but once more I am drawn to his smattering of tattoos that complete his rebellious appearance.

My eyes snag on one in particular: a word beneath his left pectoral.

The single word is jagged, a little crooked and uneven, almost as if he did it himself. It lacks the appearance of a professional tattoo, more homemade or prison tat if anything, but still, it is beautiful, as if handwritten, an autograph transcribed especially for him.

My lip quirks, smiling as I re-read the word only for the sour taste of jealousy to churn my gut at the realization he has another girl’s name immortalized on his skin. I want that. I want to be something permanent to him.

“Tick tock, Princess.” Lucien looks down at me, the water glistening over his skin. “Better get a move on.” His wet fingers hold me in place, gripping my chin as he speaks into my ear. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

I press a palm to his chest.

“I still have three minutes. Turn around,” I command, and to my surprise he listens. The only other command he seems to listen to is stop. The rest go in one ear and out the other but he allows me this.

My old friend Luciens’ bac k stands before me in all its glory and again I rake my nails over the landscape of his tattoo.

Tattooed demons smirk while beautifully shaded flames burn sinners alive in the intricate piece.

It’s not just Hell, but the whole landscape forms a dark skull in the palm of a large hand. It’s so beautifully hidden.

Bending over slightly, I do what I’ve been dying to do since he first took his shirt off in that locker room.

I take the flat of my tongue and drag a long desirous lick up his back, soothing the red scratches I’ve left.

I leave kisses all over his shoulders while I grip and knead his firm ass.

He startles, but then his forehead smacks against the tiles as though he’s struggling to contain himself.

“Shit,” he groans.

Looking around his waist, I see his hard dick jutting forward even as he phantom thrusts through my touching.

“One minute,” he rasps.

“You sure? You seem to like me touching you.” I reach around and trail a finger down his abs, but he grabs my wrist in a viper grip. “Fifty-five seconds.”

It’s barely enough time, but there’s only one place left that I want to explore more than anything.

I grab his shoulders and force him back around, grabbing his cock.

He hitches a breath but doesn’t force me to stop.

I want to stare into those preternatural golden eyes some more, though first I need to understand his cock situation.

How can he stand to have that many piercings through his dick?

Still gripped in my palm, I try to stroke it, but I’m afraid to touch the rods for fear of hurting him.

Lucien senses my worry and reaches for my hand, guiding me from his base to tip.

The jewelry pulls slightly, but they remain stationary, and he moans with each pass.

He drops his hand. “Harder,” he groans.

No longer worried about the cock piercings, I take over the pace. Precum and water keep everything slick and even more spills out the more I keep going. There’s about twenty more seconds before he’s straining.

“Faster,” he rasps. Again, I listen. Following his orders to a tee and trusting his guidance as I jack him off, another first for me.

His dick is pointed right at my stomach, and I want to paint my skin in everything he’s about to release on me.

He reaches for my throat again and I’m tempted to let go, but he growls in warning.

I let the fear drive me to pump even harder, even faster.

We’re right at the seven-second mark when I rasp, “Cum on me again.”

I don’t even make it to ‘one’ before he’s releasing ropes of cum all up my stomach.

My greedy fingers pull at his hair as he kisses me hungrily, the last of his cum dripping between us while I moan his name.

How the fuck am I ever going to let this go?

How am I supposed to walk away when even this has me losing my fucking mind?

I could go insane with lust if I allowed myself to get lost in him.

I fear it’s already too late.

“You did so fucking good, Princess. Five gold stars,” he huffs, twiddling five fingers in the air.

You’d think I won a fucking gold medal the way I beam with pride.

Winning has always felt good, but I’m rarely praised for my accomplishments.

Pleasing Lucien means not only reaping rewards, but genuine praise. It makes me want to keep pleasing him.

I look down at his dripping dick and swallow.

He clocks my intention, the sudden need to lick the underside of his cock and clean every drop of his seed.

I’d lick it from these floor tiles if it meant getting a taste of him, but he denies me.

With the pinch of his fingers, he tilts my chin up, glaring at me in warning.

His grip is tight and serious, but I swipe my tongue along the edge of my lips all the same.

“If you want it. You’re going to have to earn it, Sydney.”

“Please,” I beg. “Tell me how I earn it.”