Page 48 of Cracked Ice (The F*cked Up Players #1)

twenty-one

“ Y ou look like I murdered your dog,” I call over to Sydney who’s slowly approaching the car with this kicked puppy expression marring her beautiful face.

“Maybe you did.” She shoots back, not missing a beat and replacing the air of sadness with haughtiness as she picks up speed.

“Oh Princess, what kind of monster do you take me for? I would never kill a dog .”

I smirk, pushing off my car and stalking toward her. For a second, awareness flashes in those cracked-ice eyes but then it’s gone as quickly as it appears. She scoffs, “You’re a lot funnier than I thought you’d be.”

“Oh, I’m a barrel of laughs,” I deadpan, moving faster to open the passenger door before she can sling it open herself.

Her pupils blow wide when she notices I’m already right in front of her.

Gotta be quicker than that, Little Stalker.

“I swear, dealing with you is like befriending Jekyll and Hyde,” she grumbles, slipping past me so she can get in.

I chuckle, it’s funny how quickly people forget, at the end of the day, Jekyll and Hyde were still the same person.

She’s about to sling another insult when her phone buzzes in her hand. She brings it up to her face without even looking.

“Hi, Dad. What’s up?” she answers, her voice painfully fucking cheery and out of place compared to what she sounded like a second ago. I glare at her in disbelief.

My stare only hardens as I listen to Sydney put on that fake smile and that fake voice to lie to her dad . . . again.

“Yeah, Dad, I just left. Out to grab a bite to eat with some friends,” she says in an exuberant tone from the passenger seat of my car. I haven’t even closed the door, but I can’t stop staring at her long legs wrapped in the sandal straps as they stretch out from under her black dress.

I have to blink a few times and shake my head at her theatrics before finally moving to shut the car door, but then I hear it.

“Yeah, Bradford texted,” she responds as if she was happy to hear from the prick.

The sound of that fucker’s name on her pillowy soft lips drives me insane.

Bringing him up to her dad as casually as she does confirms her earlier statement that he’s a family friend, but it still makes me seethe with hatred.

It’s a foreign sensation. Even the trash I like to take out on occasion doesn’t solicit such a knee-jerk reaction.

I hadn’t lied to Sydney earlier. Brad doesn’t matter and usually I wouldn’t care if a hookup had an ex or another romantic interest. As long as there’s communication, I don’t give it another thought.

But that’s not the case here. Something about Bradford’s existence sets off all of my alarm bells.

It’s a bleeding sound, ear piercing and head splitting.

I hate it.

I hate him .

She pays me no attention as she chats with her father about her precious fucking Bradford.

“Did he tell you he wanted to come?” she asks him, referencing the text she received during dinner.

Yeah, fuck that, if anyone gets to come, it’s me.

I open the car door wider, settling into a squat as she chats idly with her daddy dearest. She watches me warily, but my princess doesn’t break character.

I toss my hair from my eyes, tilting my head as she regards me slowly.

She knows I’m up to something, and she’d be right. I don’t like being ignored.

I rest my palms on her knees, turning her body to face me.

Her strappy heels scrape against the asphalt as I drag her legs into position.

She doesn’t help me, instead letting me do all the work as she continues her conversation.

Settling in, I draw her closer as I kneel between her soft, creamy thighs.

The moonlight provides minimal luminescence, but she and I have more fun in dark places.

In this position, I hardly notice the coldness of the parking lot asphalt against my knees or the pinch of gravel through my sweats, but I do notice one thing above all: her eyes on me.

My hands creep up farther, parting her legs more as I lean in, my face between her thighs.

Her breath hitches and she grabs my shoulder for balance, but she quickly recovers.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was invited out by friends on the team, you know, like a last hoorah,” she assures her father.

It disturbs me how easily she fucking lies. One minute she’s an obsessed lover and the next she’s a raging heiress. If I wasn’t looking up at her face, she’d sound so fucking believable. How many people has my Little Stalker Princess deceived?

My fingers squeeze around her knees, and she winces, but the cadence of her voice remains unchanged. I spread her legs even wider, and she easily adjusts, offering little to no resistance as I open her up before me.

We’re in a public parking lot. Anybody could see what we’re doing, but she doesn’t seem to care and I sure as shit don’t.

I ogle her wounds from our game in the diner and with the most tentative of licks, I test a spot on her inner thighs.

She gasps, but again she plays it off with a well-timed fake sneeze.

“Gesundheit, baby,” I murmur against her skin.

“Oh, thank you.” she says, practically moaning her appreciation. I pause, wondering if I’ve finally gotten to her, that she’s talking to me alone, but then I hear, “Yeah, no, someone was saying ‘bless you,’” she explains.

I guess he’s not entirely convinced because she changes tactics.

“Would you believe we’ve never been to this restaurant before? Yeah, I know, Dad . . . yep . . . you know best.”

My eyes roll, but so does hers—for entirely different reasons—as I lick a slow trail along the apex of her thighs up, up, up, and . . . stop.

She physically vibrates beneath my tongue, a shiver that wracks up her body and into my waiting mouth. It’s mildly satisfying, but at least it’s a reaction.

I do it again, but just as she settles into the feeling of my mouth being so close to her sex, I bite down, clamping my jaws into the surprisingly tender meat of her muscled thighs.

She’s fast though. Her hand flies to her mouth before she can scream, and her teeth sink into the skin of her palm to deny me the symphonic notes of her agony while her other hand tilts the phone away.

She glares down at me before her body tenses, her back bowing over the console when I suck.

For a second I’m worried she’ll come from the pain alone, but not even another second later, she’s bringing the phone back to her ear.

“I know, Dad. I only wanted to spend time with them before I couldn’t anymore.”

Well, that just won’t do.

I suck as I bite, creating hickies as I move along her upper leg.

She writhes, going as far as trying to kick me off, her sharp, red-bottomed heel digging into my shoulder, but I keep my weight on her legs spread in front of me.

She squirms, but she doesn’t move to close them.

In fact, she grinds deeper into my touch, wanting more, chasing my tongue like the horny little stalker she is, but she won’t get that from me until I have her undivided attention.

To anyone else it would look like I am devouring her pussy, but I don’t reward bad behavior, and my princess is being a very bad girl right now.

“Mm,” I moan, “such a naughty girl.”

Taunting words spoken between her pearly gates; the only heaven I’ll ever be granted access to.

I peek above the expensive black material of her dress to find those cracked-blue eyes on me.

I’m soothed by the hooded, lust-filled twinkle in them, even more so when her mouth parts to let out a silent whimper, her neck elongating as she tilts it back.

Fuck . Why didn’t we go with the throat fucking again?

Right, right, right. Patience.

Her bucking continues as she tries to get closer, my tongue lashings unrelenting against her tender skin, but her attempts are futile.

“Dad, I think they’re calling me. Yes, I know. Yes.”

I grin as I bite another area. She has a tiny scratch on the inner part of her right leg from when she flinched earlier, and a teensy stab wound on the left from when she failed to keep herself spread for me. They’re not life threatening, but, God, are they sexy.

I kiss the wounds I inflicted. Lick the blood I spilled.

My hands slide up and down her quads as I work her into a frenzy, avoiding the place we both want me to be.

I expect her to get angry, to get off the phone and snap at me again, but she doesn’t.

Instead, she runs her long nails through my hair and pulls.

My cock leaks as she maintains her firm hold, alternating between soft strokes and tense pulling.

Her squirming reactions were instinctual, hard to prevent no matter who was in this spot, but this, this is a sign she’s not forgotten me, that she’s here with me.

Even if it is while on the fucking phone.

I move closer, rewarding her acknowledgement of me. I leave a third hickey right before I reach her glorious center. I’m in the offensive zone now, going for goal. My shot already lined up, but then, “I’m sorry. No, you’re right. I didn’t mean to be rude. I apologize.”

I clamp my teeth down and suck hard, realization dawning that he’s not letting her off the phone yet. “Mh-hm. No, yes. You’re right. I understand.” Her voice is strained, but to normal ears she’s totally in control, not the writhing mess she actually is right now.

I lick the bite marks near her pussy, not wanting to take an actual chunk out of her from biting too hard. Cannibalism isn’t exactly my thing, but her shaking legs and twitching muscles do soothe the ache, a comforting salve to the need growing between my own legs.

I hear footsteps rounding the corner of the car, but I don’t stop my assault on her tender flesh. Whoever it is can fuck right off. That is until the dickhead from earlier decides to make his appearance known and interrupts my meal.