Page 7

Chapter Seven

Trent

J emma holds up her hand, beckoning me with her index finger. She looks different this time, her lips plump and pink with a glossy look. Dark makeup covers her eyelids, making her green eyes stand out even more. I close the distance between us and push her up against the wall.

Her body molds to mine perfectly. She hooks her arms around my neck, purring in my ear as I plant kisses along her skin. Jemma’s skin is so soft, and she smells of fruit. The scent is so delicious I could lick her skin all night.

Dragging her fingers up my back and stopping at my neck, she tickles me without meaning to, but it feels good.

So damn good, I don’t want her to stop as she massages my skin.

Her slow exploration continues. Each movement is so deliberate my cock grows even harder, tenting my jeans.

After she tugs on my hair, taking a chunk in her hand, she pulls my mouth to hers.

I part her lips with my tongue, greedy. She’s driving me fucking wild. Her other hand travels down my chest until she finds my hard cock. Peeking up at me, her eyes widen. She cups my cock over the front of my jeans.

Something snaps inside of me. Adrenaline floods my veins. My entire body is on fire from her touch. This doesn’t seem like something Jemma would do.

But I want her.

She wants me, too.

Jemma moves my hand from her hip and slides it up her stomach until I’m massaging one of her tits under her bra. Her nipple is rock hard, and she moans when I pinch it between my fingers. And I’m ready to come just from the sexy sounds she makes.

She leans back and licks her lips, her eyes fixed on mine.

I mimic her, and then my lips crash into hers.

I kiss her with so much intensity I have to hold her tight.

Pinning her against my chest, our tongues work in harmony, each kiss fueled by more passion.

Jemma reaches between us and unbuttons my jeans, sliding my zipper down.

My cock is in her hand moments later. She doesn’t waste a second.

Her hands are so small that she uses both to jerk me off.

Looking up at me, she strokes me hard, licking her lips like she wants a taste.

“Fuck, Jemma,” I groan, sucking in a deep breath.

Damn, she’s good with her hands. I want her mouth too.

I push her hair behind her ears. “Suck my cock.”

She kneels in front of me, still holding onto my length, staring at my size as if wondering if it will fit in her mouth. I give her a look that says, Go ahead. It will fit . Some of it will, at least.

When her tongue connects with my sensitive flesh, I close my eyes, and a deep growl emerges from my throat. It’s primal and loud, but she does this to me. Using her hands and mouth, Jemma sucks me off to completion.

My entire body jerks when I come, and she swallows my cum. She sits back on her heels, her lips wet and puffy. I help her from the floor, my legs weak from how hard I just came. And then a loud noise cuts through the air.

What the fuck is beeping?

I wake to a buzzer. It’s so fucking loud I want to smash it.

I blink a few times to clear my vision. Between the annoying sound digging into my skull and my confusion, I hear Tucker howl with laughter.

Disoriented, I look over at him.

It was all a dream.

Jemma and her skilled mouth and delicate hands. Those perfect pink nipples. All of it was an illusion.

Tucker throws a towel at my head and laughs. “Dude, jump in the shower.”

I sit up and see my cock poking out of my boxers… and the mess I’ve made.

Fuck.

Fisting the towel in my hand, I look over at Tucker. “Don’t even start with me.”

He shuts off the alarm clock, still laughing. “Practice starts in an hour.”

Like, I need a reminder. It’s all I’ve thought about this week other than Jemma.

C oach Bryant splits us into three-person teams for a half-ice scrimmage.

I’m tired after two hours of drills, but it feels good to be back on the ice.

Tucker passes the yellow practice puck to me, and I draw my stick back, slapping the puck at Drake.

He’s like a giant wall of muscle, his entire body covering the net.

Drake swings his leg to the right, his pad blocking the shot.

Preston, quick on the ice, swoops in to retrieve the puck, balancing it on the edge of his stick before tapping it just enough to place it perfectly between Drake’s legs.

Even with quick reflexes, Drake closes his thighs, about to drop to the ice, but Preston’s skill is effortless.

The puck sails past Drake’s skate, and Coach Bryant blows the whistle.

Before we can celebrate our minor victory, Coach Bryant calls out, “Red puck,” pointing at the puck in the face-off circle to my right.

We repeat the same process several times, switching between the colored pucks. Sweat slides down my forehead and falls into my eyes. I blink a few times to clear my vision. My muscles burn from the pain, but I block it out and slap the puck with my stick.

Coach Bryant blows his whistle after we run through all the practice pucks. The next three-man team skates onto the ice to take our places.

“Hit the showers,” Coach Bryant says to us. I turn to skate off the ice, and he adds, “Tucker and Trent hang back for a second. I need to talk to you two.”

Preston exits the rink as the other players take their places on the ice. Coach blows his whistle, telling them to begin as he slips between Tucker and me. He rests his hand on each of our shoulders.

“One more game, and you’ll be back on the ice with the team,” he tells us.

I remove my mouthguard. “I’m ready, Coach. We both are.”

“Look, I know something is going on with you guys. If you need to talk, you can come to me. I’m here for you no matter what.”

I raise a curious eyebrow at him. “Nothing is going on with us.”

Does he think we’re on drugs or something? He’s never acted this way with us before.

He cocks his head at Tucker. “Are you sure? Because I can usually count on you two, and lately?—”

“I need help with a class,” Tucker confesses because it’s true.

Coach nods. “Do you need a tutor? If you do, I can have Dean Whittaker arrange one for you.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I can figure it out. I need to spend more time studying.”

Our suspension has already raised suspicions within the league. Everyone wants to know why the Kane twins are out for “academic” reasons. People can speculate as much as they want because we’ll be back in the game next weekend.

Coach squeezes our shoulders. “Hit the showers, boys.”

We skate off the ice and head toward the locker room.

“You better have a plan,” I say to Tucker.

“You know me.” He takes out his mouthguard and grins. “I got it covered, baby bro.”

Tucker is two minutes older than me and never lets me forget it.

“Then act like it. I’m sick of cleaning up your messes.”

Once inside the locker room, Preston stops by our lockers with a towel around his waist, his hair wet from the shower. “You guys heading over to the carnival later? A few of us are going.”

I shrug. “Depends. Who’s going?”

“Bex wants to go. I think she’s bringing her friend, Taylor.”

Even though he refuses to admit it, Drake has a massive crush on Taylor Bradshaw. Bex Bryant is Coach Bryant’s only daughter and a basketball player at Strickland University. Taylor is her roommate and teammate.

A smirk crosses Tucker’s lips.“Is she bringing anyone for me?”

Preston opens his locker and drops his towel over the top of it. “Doubt it. You’ll have your pick of girls in the Quad.”

I already have my sights on one girl in particular. Last weekend, I told Jemma I wanted another kiss from her and plan to make good on that promise.