Mister Hockey (Hellions Angels #1)(40)
“I’m sorry, Boss.” Daisy had begun to sniffle. “I haven’t talked about this, but Dan is leaving. His unemployment got to him and he isn’t coping. I have the two kids, I have to be able to support us.”
It was only then that Breezy had blown the cobwebs from her eyes, seen how haggard her assistant looked. Tiny pimples pebbled her forehead while bags drooped under her eyes.
How could Breezy begrudge this promotional opportunity for her faithful assistant? She had a mortgage, but she wasn’t a single mom with two kids.
“I’m happy for you.” She’d forced a smile. “Really happy. You deserve all the good things to happen to you.”
And with that she stood up and dusted off her thighs. “As for you, Janet.” God, she’d sounded like Newman on Seinfeld when he said “Jerry.” “I worked my butt off here and I did a damn good job. I understand that sometimes it’s easy to want to keep the status quo and I wish you the best right here. Meanwhile I’m off to start living my best life, using my talents and creativity.”
It felt good to say those words, so much so that it didn’t—hardly—matter when she’d tripped leaving her former boss’s office. It wasn’t until she got to her desk rummaging around for a box to store her precious items, that the tears threatened. It was one thing to talk tough, another entirely to be tough.
The desire to be brave and take risks welled inside her, but that didn’t cancel out that this was a humongous life change, one that felt particularly overwhelming when she had just bought her first-ever house.
And she wasn’t going to go beg for her mother’s help to bail her out of this financial hole. Uh-uh, no way. No how. Besides she was talking about taking a trip to the Winter Olympics and needed to save. She just wanted a friendly ear, or rather, one friendly ear in particular.
Jed’s.
The bathroom door cracked and he entered carrying a full wineglass and—bless him—the rest of the bottle. “Penny for your thoughts?” He knelt down and handed her the glass and smoothed back some hair stuck to her forehead.
“I love this house,” she said, reaching out to touch a damp tile, slick with the room’s steam. “But I’ve gotten over my head. I still have a hole in my bedroom ceiling, a roof that probably needs replacing and no job to pay any mortgage.” She started to giggle and when she started she couldn’t stop. Who knew staring into the black abyss could be so funny, in a “we’re all going to die” way?
He frowned. “You going off the deep end, Vixen?”
“No, but how much can you get for plasma these days? Oh! And there’s always those egg ads in the free newspapers around town. Or I guess I could sell my body?” she quipped.
“To another man?” His gaze burned with palpable possession. “I’m gonna stop you right there.” He ripped off his T-shirt; his belt, boxers and jeans followed in quick succession. Straightening, he stood naked, all carved muscle and perfect bone structure, and stepped into her bath.
“You getting dirty?”
“Filthy.” He didn’t smile. Instead his hand, slippery with bubble soap, slid up her thigh, the pad of his thick fingers tracing the seam of her inner lips with slow steady strokes. “Feel this? This right here?”
“Yes.” She gasped.
He slid in one big finger, crooking it. Her hand flew to the edge of the tub, gripping the cool ceramic. “This is me, making your pussy mine.” His words had an intense growl, even as humor flared in his eyes. “I’ll help look after you, Breezy.”
“Will you?” Her lids lowered. “Even if I do this?” She grabbed his cock at the root, it was already stiff in her hand. “Because two can play at this game.”
“You got me.” His eyes gleamed. “What are you going to do with me?”
She gave him a sassy push, taking her hair and twisting the coil into a quick messy bun.
It wasn’t until she parted his muscular thighs that it seemed to dawn on him what she was about to do. And his cock reacted, rising out of the water.
“Confession.” She had goose bumps despite the water’s temperature. “I’m not a pro at this.”
“Got to say, anything you’re gonna try will be pretty damn good.” His voice dropped an octave, raspy and brimming with need.
She let her lips part over his gleaming tip, relaxing a little. So far so good. This didn’t feel scary, it felt good. Powerful even. The sexiest, most self-assured man that she’d ever known was sucking in his slab of strong abdominal muscles and hissing with pleasure, all because of her. Emboldened, she took hold of him around the base and let him slide the way down to her throat. Coming back up she nicked him with her top teeth. “My God, sorry,” she yelped.
He opened one eye. “Do I look sorry?” He sounded hoarse. “More.”
She returned to her work, letting him slide up and down her tongue, practicing switching up the pressure, what it was like to hollow her cheeks, to stroke the thick rigid vein along the shaft with the flat of her tongue, to suck the tip like a lollipop, to reach under and cup the soft, slick sac in her hand.
His appreciative moan sent a pulse through her pussy before he reached out and gently fisted her knot of hair. “Let me inside you.”
“I’ve never done this.” She shook her head. “Want to keep going.”