Scoring Lacey (3 page)

Another point and his eyebrows bobbed.

Both Shayne and her father shook out their wrists. The paddle made another slow, floaty spin as he stretched his arms over his head. The shirt strained over his chest and she wondered if every feminine heart fluttered in appreciation or if it was only hers.

“Feel the burn. You’re going to choke,” her father taunted.

“Only on the trophy, old man.”

They had two more goals to go. Once more he was crouched down and the game was on. On the other side of the table were her two younger sisters cheering for their parents and taunting Shayne. He ignored them. She supposed if one was sometimes booed by twenty thousand people, her sisters were white noise. Although if Shelley, the second of the five Magerin kids, had been in town, odds are he wouldn’t have been able to ignore them. She was the loudest of all the Magerins, including their mom.

She watched his mouth move. Watched his lips form, “fuck” a second before the puck few past him.

“Haha!” Her father crowed while her sisters and mom cheered, lipping off at the goalie.

Shayne rested his hands on his hips, ignoring the trash talk, his gaze skating over the table as if he was replaying the game. He looked up, met her gaze then he grinned. He winked before he bent down, focusing on the game. “Like you can do that again,” he said.

“Watch me, kid. Watch me then you can weep tears when I beat your ass.”

“Bring it.”

It was a beautifully tacky trophy, shaped like an air hockey mallet with “2010 Champions” on a little plaque. Actually, she was pretty sure it
was
a mallet that had been spray-painted gold. “I think I’ll put it on the fireplace mantle. That will burn their asses every time they come over to visit me.”

“You? Why do you get to keep it?” Shayne sat across from her, legs stretched out as he closed his eyes. It was tempting to rest her feet on top of his. She resisted. His jacket lay tossed over a chair and he hadn’t bothered to roll down his sleeves. His forearms were really, really distracting with their dark brown hairs and that tattoo.

“It was my idea,” she said as she sipped her celebratory glass of champagne. “We crushed them.”

“We?”

“Okay. Me.” He chuckled as he opened one eye, looking at her. Quite a few people were outside, enjoying the warm weather. A fire snapped at the other end of the patio and a couple cuddled on the sofa before it. “Isn’t it pretty? Prettier than that Stanley Cup you won. What a hunk of junk.”

She couldn’t count how many barbecues had been hosted out here before a Granville Husks hockey game. It was hard to believe they were at a hockey arena as tea lights flickered and glowed from where they hung in small glass lanterns. Clusters of comfortable chairs were intimate and had more candles flickering in tall glass cylinders, adding to that soft, glowy feeling.

“Yes. They should use the Cup for scrap. I didn’t get to keep that one either.” He sighed heavily. “So is the lot of a hockey player’s life.” He uncoiled from his slouch and grabbed her trophy.

“Hey, that’s mine.”

A dark eyebrow arched up. His lashes lifted and she found herself staring into eyes that were more gold than hazel at the moment from the flickering candles. That skittery feeling moved through her again.

She was a fairly confident woman but this was knocking for a loop. Whatever
this
was. He leaned forward and set the trophy in her hand. Without breaking her gaze, his fingers slid down to her wrist where her pulse was jumping erratically from his touch and the man.
It’s Shayne,
she told her hormones.
Yum
they purred in response.

She was thankful her dress was heavy from the sequins because then he’d know her nipples were swelling from that light touch, from his eyes. Like with the game, he seemed to see everything at once. He tugged as she leaned forward, drawn by his golden eyes and sensual mouth.

He tasted of scotch.

It registered in her head as their open mouths met, tongues seeking the other. Her left brain snapped out words like Shayne, younger, brother’s, best friend.

It was hard to listen when his tongue slid and thrust into her mouth. She curled her free hand around his neck as she changed the angle of her head for a better taste. He released her hand and cupped the back of her head as their mouths mated.

She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had kissed her like this. It was tongues, it was heat, it was hunger. “This is crazy,” she panted against his mouth, pulling an inch away.

“Yes,” he said before he dragged her back, feasting on her mouth. A tug and she was draped over his lap. Beneath her ass she felt the hard evidence of his arousal as she met every hungry surge of his tongue with her own. “All night,” he muttered into her mouth as she stilled on him, absorbing the feel of the firm flesh beneath fabric. “All night.”

“God,” she breathed before she drew him back down. Every glide of his tongue made her ache and throb. A large hand flattened on her thigh, slid down to her calf then back up. She gripped the back of his shirt as she pressed her breasts against him.

His hand slid up over the dress and curled into her ass. She gasped at the sensation. He squeezed her slowly, as if he was savoring the feel. They froze, lips touching as they both breathed heavily. She tried to tell herself she was sitting on the lap of a guy who hadn’t seen thirty yet, that he was her brother’s best friggin’ friend.

Too bad the thoughts were obliterated by the hard press of his cock against her hip and the hand squeezing and releasing her ass. Her eyes opened and he was looking at her. “What?”

“I want to make you come,” he said as his fingers traced the hem of her dress. “Right here. Right now.”

Jesus. God. Almighty.

Her pussy spasmed at the words, at the look in his eyes. This was
not
the Shayne Donnelly she knew.

“Then I want to take you home.” His hand slipped under her dress. His palm was hot on her ass. “Where I’ll set you on the edge of your bed. I’m going to peel these tiny panties down then I’m going to make you come again. My mouth buried in your pussy.”

Her heart thundered hard and fast as she stared at this stranger she had known his entire life. He rubbed her butt cheek. “Shayne,” she whispered his name, incapable of any other sound.

“I bet you taste as good as I imagine. Then I’m going to flip you over, stand between your legs and bury my cock deep in you until you’re screaming my name.” He exhaled slowly as his hand moved to her hip. “Now’s the time to say no.”

No? Was he nuts? She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down. She saw the flash of a smile before his mouth claimed hers as his fingers slid between her legs. He swallowed her cry of shock and she tasted his moan. She was wet. So wet.

Aching for him. Those clever fingers pushed aside the swatch of her thong and she arched into him as he found her clit. The orgasm hit her fast and hard. His mouth muffled her cries as she came immediately.

“Stop stop stop,” she pleaded as her body spiraled out of control. She was shaking from the climax and the man. Against her she felt the soft fabric his pants, his hard cock and his fingers still lightly stroking her.

She stared at him, stunned.

“Been awhile?”

She nodded and her lashes lowered. Awhile? She was pretty sure she hadn’t come like that in years. “Shayne.”

“Lacey.”

“Take me home.” He grinned before his mouth claimed hers. She moaned as he pushed a finger into her. “Holy God!” Her body arched hard as he began to move in her, slow thrusts as if he had all the time in the world. His thumb stroked through the growing wetness until he reached her clit and she nearly catapulted off his lap. She leaned against his other arm, his fingers caressing the swell of her breast bared by her strapless dress. His tongue plunged and stroked hers as he slid a second finger into her surging body. “Oh God, Shayne.”

“Come for me, Lace.”

She bit her lip and his mouth muffled her cry when his other hand slipped under her dress and pinched her nipple. The orgasm crested less violently than her first one. His fingers pushed relentlessly in her, picking her up and throwing her into the heated pleasure. She arched up into all that hard muscle as she climaxed again. She felt cream spill from her, over his fingers and onto his slacks. She flattened her hand over his cheek as they kissed through the quivers of her body. His fingers retreated and she felt him ease her thong back into place, along with her dress.

“Taste.” Damp fingers rubbed her lips then vanished into his mouth.

Her tongue darted out to taste herself. He adjusted her top and bottom then leaned down to pick up a shoe that had fallen off.

She was having a heart attack. He eased the heel on then caressed up her leg again. “This is beyond crazy.”

“Yes.” He kissed her then lifted her off his lap.

Her thighs were quivering as she stood before him. Quivering! She gazed down at him and wondered if she was going to do this. She felt the stickiness between her thighs from her orgasms.

He reached over, grabbed his jacket and her trophy then stood up. When had she let it go? He eased the jacket on and she found herself glancing down. Her eyes widened to see the thick bulge tenting the slacks. “Oh dear.”

“Want to kiss it and make it feel better?”

“Yes,” she answered without a thought. She reached down to brush the back of her fingers over him. He caught her wrist with his lightning fast reflexes. She pouted. He turned her hand then pushed his hips forward so he filled her palm.

“Promise?”

She stared into his gaze and squeezed him. “Yes.”

His lashes flickered as he exhaled. “Nice. Where’s your purse?”

She looked around for it and saw his jacket had been covering it up. His hand flattened on the small of her back and she shivered at the contact. They walked around the outside of the most important building at MHS, the rink that had been converted for tonight’s party.

Was she really going to do this? Have sex with her baby brother’s best friend?

She glanced at him as he navigated them to her car. Growing up she had vowed never to have a station wagon. And there it sat in all its red shiny glory, her Subaru Outback. Her mother had smirked in retro victory. At least hers was sexier than her mom’s had been in the 70s. And it was red--with no faux wood paneling. Eat your heart out, Mom. Shayne plucked her purse from where it was tucked underneath her arm and found the keys. He opened the passenger door and she sat down.

Maybe she was drunk. It would explain everything.

She felt drunk. Hot and dizzy.

He shut the door and walked around. He moved with fluid grace, as if he was on skates. Resting her head on her seat, she watched as he sat beside her. He slid the key into the ignition then stared out the windshield. Had he changed his mind? Was reality intruding on his brain too?

He moved fast for a large man.

He twisted and leaned towards her, spearing his hand into her hair, destroying the updo she had spent a fortune on. His mouth covered hers in a hungry, hot kiss. Her arm hooked around his neck as she pressed into him. His other hand tugged her gravity defying dress down and she gasped to feel his hand cover her breast, fingers stroking her aching, swollen nipple.

His mouth slid away, down her neck and over the tip where his fingers played. She cried out to feel the heat of his mouth, the stroke of his tongue, the sting of his teeth. The strength of suction had her arching of the seat and into him. He captured her other breast with his large hand and she gripped his head.

“Shayne!”

“God, your tits, Lace.” He licked the crest of one breast, sucking the flesh into his mouth while his fingers tugged on her nipple. “They’re amazing.”

“Are you kidding?”

He lifted his head and his eyes were glazed and golden. “I so want to fuck your tits, Lacey.”

She blinked and looked down at her breasts that were approaching their fortieth birthday this summer. She looked at him. “You do?”

“Oh yeah.” He rubbed the heel of his hand over her nipple. “I really do.”

She sighed, “Okay.” She dragged his mouth back to hers. No one had ever wanted to fuck her breasts. Ever. Kevin had lost interest in them years ago. He had lost interest in her altogether shortly after.

Sex with her ex had never been like this though. Hungry and wild and needy.

Shayne lifted his head and flatted a hand between her breasts, rubbing up and down. His eyes lost focus as if he was imagining it was his cock instead of his hand. “This is crazy,” he said as he swept his hand over her breast. His touch was almost reverent as he caressed up to her shoulder then down her arm. His fingers shackled her wrist and he met her gaze as he guided her hand to his groin. His lashes lowered as she felt him thick under the fabric.

“Crazy,” she repeated, her other hand flattened on his chest. She knew she didn’t push him, he was rock solid muscle but he moved, leaning against the driver’s door so she could explore him. A harsh sound came from him, his fingers cinching hard, as she traced the shape of him. He was big, she thought, which made sense. He was six feet three inches and about two hundred pounds. He was big for a goalie and yet it didn’t slow him down.

He groaned and she liked the way his mouth parted as he arched beneath her caressing.

“Do you want to fuck my mouth too?”

He looked at her, his face in shadows. “Baby, I want to fuck every inch of you.”

She felt moisture spill from her pussy as she shifted so she could kiss him. “Now?”

“Fuck.” His hands fisted in her hair. She felt a pin fall down her back as curls spilled down around her shoulders. He feasted on her mouth, a man starved for her.
For her
.

A few cars down an alarm beeped and headlights flashed.

“Fuck,” he said again and eased her back. He battled his way out of his jacket and eased it over her shoulders. “Not the place, Magerin.”

She smiled as his hand shook. The engine rumbled to life and he exhaled loudly. An arm rested on the steering wheel while he stared at her. She grabbed the front of his jacket and flashed him. His smile was slow and sexy. He put the car into reverse then they were leaving Magerin Hockey School for her house.