Pucking Parker (Face-Off Legacy/Campus Kings 1)

“I’m not,” she whimpers, one eye closed as I fill her. “The rumors about you are true about you.” She digs her fingers into my shoulder and chokes out. “I can’t believe I’m pucking Parker.”

I almost laugh at her comment, assuming I heard wrong and the beer has gone to my head.

She feels amazing, soaking wet and tight, milking my cock with her pussy. Gripping her hips, I slam into her, and she scream. Every time she says my name, I fuck her harder, faster. I can’t get enough of her pussy. I try not to think about how good it feels, or how much I never want to stop, because I need to last.

When I can’t take it anymore, but I don’t want to come yet, I pull out of her and flip her over. Holding her thighs apart, I take my time, making slow deliberate movements. I watch my cock slide out of her dripping wet pussy. Palm her ass with my hands and spread her wider. She looks at me over her shoulder and bites her bottom lip.

The carnal look in her eyes fuels my hunger. Slowly, like a ball of string unraveling, Bex loses control. And it’s perfect. The sexy sounds she makes. How tight she grips my cock with her pussy. The moans I rip from her lips.

I’m lost to Bex Bryant. So fucking done. And when I come, I know it won’t be this one time. I have to make her see that once will never be enough. For either of us.

Chapter Twelve

Bex

I creep down the stairs in front of Preston, wearing his Strickland Senators ice hockey T-shirt. His last name is on the back along with his number—eighty-five. It even smells like him. His musky, manly scent fills my nostrils, and I know I’m screwed when I take one big whiff. I’m becoming too comfortable around Preston. He makes me want things I never thought of before, which is dangerous.

Doing my best to keep quiet, I take my time going down the stairs, hoping no one is in the living room. No such luck. Several pairs of eyes land on me. Preston’s teammates stare at me hard, their gazes intense. Because they know me. Realization crosses their faces, a few of them winking over my shoulder at Preston.

Ugh, what was I thinking?

“You never saw me,” I tell the room full of half-dressed hockey players. “I was never here. Got it?”

A few of them nod, while two others grunt in acknowledgment.

But the hot blond, with insane leg muscles, begins to slow clap. What are we in an 80’s movie right now?

“Way to go, Parker,” the annoying clapper says. “Coach Bryant’s daughter.”

Another guy whistles. “Banging Coach’s daughter is better than a hat trick.”

I think over his comment for a second and realize he’s not talking about a hat trick in hockey, more like Preston having sex with the three girls, and want to run.

Oh, my God get me out of here.

I stop at the bottom landing and shoot Preston a warning glance.

“Bex is just a friend,” he tells them. “Don’t open your fucking mouths around Coach.”

“You got it, Cap,” a dark-haired boy says.

Preston is the captain of the men’s ice hockey team. Most of his friends either call him Cap or Prez, which doesn’t make sense to me since there’s not a z in his name.

Preston hooks his arm around my back and whispers in my ear, “You might as well stay for breakfast now that most of the team knows you slept here.”

I cringe at the thought of anyone finding out about last night. The last thing I want is to become one of Parker’s puck bunnies. Nope, not happening.

I laugh. “I’m kind of scared of you cooking.”

He smirks. “I can’t cook. But Shannon does. She’s been here every morning for the last few days.”

I tip my nose in the air, taking in the scent of what smells like bacon. “I guess I can hang out for a few more minutes.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You guess?”

“Last night was a one-time thing,” I say under my breath.

“You mentioned that already. Several times last night. Every time I—”

I hold out my hand to silence him. “Don’t finish that sentence.” Turning to face him, I continue, “We can’t do this again, so you don’t get any ideas.”

“You’re impossible, Bex.” He slaps my ass and pushes me further into the room. “C’mon, girl, I’m starving. Get your sweet ass in that kitchen.”

I chuckle at his comment and walk alongside him to the kitchen, where we find Shannon cooking up a storm. She spins around from the stove, spatula in hand. A crowd of gargantuan hockey players are seated at the island, where Preston fed me. Fucked me.

Thinking about last night, and what we did on the kitchen island, causes my juices to pool between my legs. Preston was amazing. At everything. It was literally the best night of my life, one I will never forget.