Page 49 of Cracked Ice (The F*cked Up Players #1)

“Well, looky here. It’s Morrow and the bitch who got us kicked out before we could even order our food. I can’t bel—” I cut off his useless words. Hopping up, I spin around and throw his head in a headlock.

“Shh . . . Can’t you see my girl’s on the phone?” I growl.

He flails and grunts, trying to shake me off, but it’s hard to do when your blood flow is being compromised.

He’s bigger than me, but I’m stronger. I deal with big-ass defensemen all day, every day.

If he thinks he’d ever take me down easily, he’s as stupid as the rest of the dumbasses who assume I’m not as big of a threat as I appear.

I squeeze, forcing him to garble as I cut his air supply.

He scratches at my hands and pulls at my hoodie, but he’s not escaping me this time.

“Get . . . off,” he grunts.

Sydney legs snap close and she slices her hand across her neck in a ‘cut-it-out’ motion, but it doesn’t have the same effect as her voice.

Still, she remains on the fucking phone.

What could be so goddamn important she can’t hang up?

Is she really talking to her dad? Or is it actually Brad on the phone?

I narrow my eyes at her, and she at least has the forethought to mouth, “I’m sorry. He won’t let me go.”

Well, neither will I.

“Do you think I should kill him, Sydney? Should he die for speaking to you like he did in the diner?” I whisper, as the dickhead grows more desperate, flailing and grunting as I wrestle him into submission.

He kicks at the cars, and shoves his weight around, but we’re in a tight area, sheltered in our parking spot beside a big SUV.

Had he minded his own business, we would have never crossed paths, but he came looking for trouble.

She shakes her head rapidly, begging me to spare him with those innocent eyes.

“Yes,” I nod, directly opposing her stance. “I think I should.” I squeeze a little harder. “Make his eyes pop from his head. What do you think, huh?”

He taps against my arm, as if he can simply call mercy and I’ll free him.

Sydney waves her hand rapidly to deter me, but it’s not enough.

She could stop me with one word, but for that she’ll actually have to talk to me.

She grimaces knowing what it’ll take to get me to let go.

I grin at her displeasure. Even more so when the asshole starts to panic and fights harder to free himself.

It’s a chaotic scene. One that should rattle anyone, but not Sydney.

The football jock summons the last of his strength and pushes us back into the vehicle beside us, but the large SUV absorbs the impact.

Her dad must hear the disturbance we’re causing because she says, “No, Dad, everything’s fine. The restaurants’ a little loud, and the cashier was asking me a question.”

“You’re still ignoring me, Sydney,” I pout. “Will you pay attention if I snap his neck? Will that make you happy?”

The guy’s blunt nails dig into my biceps and he desperately slaps at my arms and back in hopes of getting me to let go, but I maintain my hold on him. His face is turning darker and darker shades of red until he’s basically purple.

I want Sydney to focus. To keep those eyes on me at all times, like she’s been doing.

“I know, Daddy. I’ll be bright-eyed and bushy tailed by morning. Everything’s going to be fine.” Her voice suggests a smile even as panic inks her features.

“Tell me what it would take to get you to hang up that phone right the fuck now?” I ask.

She gives me a hard stare as her legs re-open, wider than before as she arches her back and slips a finger between her legs, rubbing her clit in soft teasing circles.

She tosses her head back, removing her focus from me entirely as she brings herself pleasure all while lying through her goddamn teeth to her dad.

She sounds like the perfect daughter, the perfect good girl as she wraps up her innocent conversation, but her fingers are doing wicked things between her legs.

It should concern me that she’s this fucked up to be bringing herself to orgasm while on the phone with her father of all people, not to mention with another guy present.

I mean he’s passed out now, his head tucked beneath my arm, but still, it’s not like we aren’t in public.

My lips curl into a salacious grin, and I let the guy’s body fall to the ground, unsure if he’s actually passed out or dead, but I seriously don’t give a shit either way. When he grunts upon impact, I accept his survival and shift my focus entirely onto Sydney.

She hisses a breath then looks at me with such carnality I feel ensnared, like I’m the one who’s caught. “Have I ever let you down, Daddy? Of course I’m a good girl. I know what to do.”

Fuck . She’s turned the tables entirely. I want to sink back down to my knees and reward her for her dirty words, but that voice still rattles in the back of my fucking skull.

Not yet. Not yet. Not yet. Don’t you dare fuck her yet.

My hands rest on her knees as I watch her pretty lace panties shift and move. She’s not actually showing me her glistening pussy, but I can hear how wet she is. I lean farther in, needing to see, wanting more.

“Mm,” she hums as though in deep thought, though I suspect the real reason is the stream of air I just blew against her fingers.

I admire the bruises along her thighs already deepening in color.

They’ll be gruesome by morning. God, she really does mark so beautifully.

She’ll be a rainbow of purples and blue by the time I’m finished, a broken doll that I’ll be there to fix up and break all over again.

I won’t need anyone else, anything else.

She’ll be the perfect distraction to satisfy all my needs.

“I understand. Yes sir. No. I won’t forget. I’ll tell Bradford you said hi. Love you.”

Her chest heaves and her body tenses. She’s on the brink of climax, of shattering right before me.

I let out a breath, sighing.

As entertaining as this show has been, she disobeyed me.

She ignored me.

And bad girls don’t get to come. Reaching out, I grip her wrist, halting her movements.

Her angry blue eyes stare down at me, her voice never faltering, never changing, “Goodnight, Daddy.”

Fuck me. She might kill me before I kill her. Why was that so hot?

“Is that really what you’re going to wear to the party?” Sydney asks, eyeing me with a soft smile that’s both somehow pitying and eager, like she wants to take me home and dress me properly.

I shrug, amused by her reaction and the revelation to come.

“It was the only other backup outfit I had in my bag.”

“We have time to head to your house so you can change,” she offers, pointing a finger outside toward the street leading back to the dorms.

How sweet.

Little does she know my house is exactly where we’re going.

The moment we pull up to the hockey house, the party is already in full swing. We’re late, but who the fuck cares about that when I have her in my clutches and at my mercy?

Gripping my arm tighter than expected, Sydney grits under her breath.

“Why did you have me wear this? I feel completely overdressed. Jesus even when I’m not trying to stick out, I manage to do it anyway.

Every. Single. Time. Why do I do this to myself?

Better yet, why did I let you convince me to do this?

I shouldn’t even be here right now,” she mutters manically, wringing my arm in the process.

I smile down at the gorgeous girl beside me, watching her freak out.

My beautiful princess needed to be dressed as one.

The black sequin dress and heels that tied up her calves made her look like a fucking knockout.

I don’t want my Little Stalker Princess hiding in the shadows tonight.

I want her shining like the royal she is.

“You look beautiful,” I muse, draping my arm around her shoulders. Her body softens against me, tucked beneath my hold.

“Thank you,” she whispers, a small smile creeping onto her face. Whatever worries were plaguing her before seem to leave her for the moment, until we walk through the doors of the hockey house to greet a very upset hockey team who are none too thrilled with me.

“Finally decided to show your face,” calls a voice from the crowd. A voice that even when he’s angry spreads over me like sweet caramel.

I grin, shrugging my arm off Sydney’s shoulder.

Things are definitely about to get interesting now.