Power Play (Nashville Assassins: Next Generation Book 2) Read online

  No one knows I’m being finger-blasted by Boon, and I don’t know why, but that excites me even more.

  “Anyone could catch us,” he whispers, his head dropping down closer to mine. “And I don’t care. I want to drop between your knees and suck your pussy dry.”

  “Oh God,” I mutter, my mouth dry.

  “Oh, he can’t help you, lovely. You’re all mine.”

  Yup, I’m done for.

  I feel my body tighten up, and when I shatter, everything goes white.

  “That’s right, baby. Come all over me.”

  He curves his fingers up into my pussy, pressing his thumb against my clit in the most unbelievable way. To keep from screaming, I squeeze the shit out of my tablet, and I gasp in a breath. I bring the tablet up, slapping my face with it, but I’m so far gone, I don’t care. My heart is pounding in my chest, and when I open my eyes, I drop the tablet into my lap and find he’s watching me with this primal look in his eyes. “You are incredible.”

  “Honey, is everything okay?”

  I glance up to where my mom is looking back at us. “You sound mad. Do you need my help?”

  Oh God, please no! “No, he’s getting it.”

  His lips curve. “You’re fucking right, I am.”

  I give him a dark look as he removes his hand from my pussy. When he brings his fingers to his lips, his eyes on me and a sinister grin on his face, I find I’m holding my breath. He opens his mouth, inserting his fingers into it, and just like that, he sucks his fingers clean.

  I think I come again.

  “Damn, you taste good.”

  I swallow hard. “I want to kiss you so bad.”

  He nods and then squeezes my knee. “Yup, but I have to go clean up.”

  Immediately, I feel guilty. Did I get something on him? Was I drooling? “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I wanted to come with you.”

  My jaw falls open a bit when I realize what he means. I made him come, and I didn’t even touch him. Never in my life have I experienced something so hot. I want more. I can’t help it; I yearn for it. As I watch him get up and head to the bathroom, I know this is going to be a long road trip.

  But hopefully one filled with little sneaky hookups like what just happened.

  I get up and somehow make it back to my seat. I fall back into the chair and cover up with my blanket, a foolish grin on my face. When I notice my phone is blinking with a text message, I pick it up.

  Boon: You now owe me two pairs of boxers.

  Me: What? Two?

  Boon: Yes, I just threw a pair away, and the pair you wore home. Two.

  Me: Fine, but you owe me for the pair of my panties you ripped.

  Boon: It’s a date—underwear shopping.

  Me: We’ll need to buy cheap ones, though.

  Boon: Well, of course. I plan to do more ripping.

  Me: And I’ll need to borrow more of yours, and I’ll more than likely have you coming in your pants again.

  Boon: I don’t doubt it, but only if you’re coming with me.

  Me: Done.

  Boon: You know, I have to say, you’re the first girl to make me come in my pants. You should get a trophy for that.

  Me: My parents will be so proud.

  Boon: LOL. Damn, lovely, I can’t get enough of you.

  As I read his text over and over again, I find myself feeling powerful, and I love it.

  But most of all, I love that Boon makes me feel like that.

  Chapter Twenty

  Boon

  I thought with Posey coming on the road trip, I wouldn’t miss her since she is traveling with us. I knew we couldn’t be together, together, but we’d still get to interact. I’d get to admire her beautiful face and touch her when no one was looking. I figured I would sneak into her room at night and we’d hook up. When we’d go to dinner with the team, I could sit by her and enjoy her company. I’m finding, though, on day ten of this road trip, all that wishful thinking was a load of bull hockey.

  I am dying.

  I now wish she weren’t my coach and was at home missing me like I’m missing her—and she’s only two feet away from me. We can’t hook up at night because her room is on the floor with the other coaches and connected to her mom’s room. When we go to dinner, she has to sit with the coaches. We all joke and talk, but she can’t talk to me on a personal level. When we’re on the ice, it’s Coach Adler and Hoenes. There is mild flirting but not much since our practices are so intense and condensed. It isn’t like when we’re at home and we’ve got time. No, we’re practicing to fix things, and we don’t have time to play around. I swear I can hear her yelling, “No nonsense!” in the wee hours of the morning when I want her more than I want to sleep. It’s been torture.

  It’s infuriating. It’s as if God has her on a string, and he’s dangling her above me to taunt me. I can almost touch her, but nope. That damn fisherman from the State Farm commercial is there, pulling her away, saying, “Oh, you almost had it.” But I don’t almost have it. I don’t have anything, and I miss Posey. I miss her so much. I just want to sit in a room with her and talk. We haven’t talked face-to-face since the plane ride. Yeah, she goes over plays, but it’s not the same. I want my Posey.

  I want all of her.

  I’m just so proud of her.

  Her plays have been kicking some major ass. We’ve scored five times out of the seven power plays we’ve gone on. It’s been awesome. I even scored a goal after a gutsy dive that earned me a cut on my chin, but the puck went into the back of the net, so all is well. We’ve won all our games but one, and in all reality, we should have won that one too. But we got on the scoreboard quick, were winning two periods, all laid-back. Then boom, they scored and beat us in the third period. Oh, the ass-chewing from Coach was insane. We have one more game, and then we head home. I can’t wait. I’m ready for my bed and for Posey to be in it.

  Naked.

  Wearing only a smile.

  Two days, and then we’ll be home.

  Across the table, Posey is looking prettier than ever. She’s fully annoyed since she’s had to stay dressed up the whole trip. She hates doing her hair and makeup. And while I love to stare at her either way, I wish I could do it freely. Tonight, though, in the lights of the patio, she looks like an angel. She’s wearing a long-sleeved white dress that hugs her body to her knees. She has on royal-blue shoes that Shelli has informed her about four times now, if she damages, she dies. Her hair is down, wavy in a sorta messy but sexy style. She’s applied her regular dark makeup, and she looks good enough to eat. Way better than this porterhouse I have.

  I lean on my hand, watching her as she laughs, and honestly, I’m at the point where I don’t care if I get called out for it. I love the way her eyes sparkle in the lights. We’ve only been able to FaceTime, and it isn’t enough. I need more. I need to be able to touch her, kiss her between sentences. Like, right now, I want to reach across the table and grab her face, lick her lips, and then kiss them. Damn it, I miss her, which is insane since she’s right across the table from me.

  “So, I’m skating back, my dad coming toward me to show me how to block. I went to do a simple poke check, but somehow, instead of pushing the puck away, I got him right in his balls. And boom, he’s on the ice. He said he would never be able to father children again, but then Quinnie came, so I feel he was being dramatic,” Posey says, laughing. She’s captivating. Everyone around her laughs, and I’m jealous they get to interact with her.

  “You’re staring,” Wes says in my ear, and I nod as I look back at him.

  Before I can answer him, though, Shelli leans into Aiden. Since they are out in the open, she gets to be with him. She comes to dinner with us, out drinking with us, and they even get to go on dates. No one questions anything. No one. I am green with envy, and I don’t even care. I swallow as Shelli leans on her hand. “I am thinking a pink bow tie for you and a gray one for Wes.”

  She also only talks about the wedding. It’s mind-nu