This girl.

This fucking girl.

How could she not believe she's the most beautiful thing in this entire room, this entire goddamn city? With each sweep, I groan. Tattoos, scars, everything is perfect. The softness of her skin makes me ravenous, the sounds from those pink lips make drive me absolutely crazy.

It's not an exaggeration to say I've been with more than my share of women. I got NHL draft picked at eighteen and the puck bunnies love 'em young. It was nice, sure. They got off, I got off, it felt good.

The way Reece lights up my entire body tells me I've been doing everything wrong. I'm starting to think I never had any game to begin with. As I drag my hoodie up her body, reveal a sexy little black t-shirt bra, I'm in awe of her.

"Tu es tellement belle." I breathe, lips caressing her collarbone, along the barrier of her cup.

"Wh-what?" Reece shudders.

I repeat the words I used to ruin her phrase. Almost. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Those delicate fingers reach for me where I worship her. They caress the bruise her kick left along my jaw. The tender pain makes me shiver, grind against the material of the sofa. God, she has me ready to blow and we're barely touching.

Her eyes hood, groggy with want. "I hurt you."

Now I can't suppress the guttural noise from my throat. My tongue flicks out, curls around her middle finger and draws it into my mouth. At her awed expression, I drag my teeth along the delicate skin before sucking hard.

"You're goddamn right," I rasp.

"Bastien."

"I love it." I capture her lips. Finally.

Reece has a similar sentiment. She meets me ferociously, the velvet slip of her mouth kneading mine with hungry pulls. My thumb finds her bellybutton piercing and she gives a wet gasp. I press my advantage, slide my tongue in to dance with hers.

Mm.

Reece meets me fearlessly, fights me for control. Her hands flutter, grip my hair, my neck, my shoulders. Tentative but hard. Tender and endearing.

When we separate for air, panting and desperate, Reece arches against me. "You're so...hard."

Yeah I am, babe.

Except she's not talking about how tight my jeans are getting. Her palms are on my chest, my stomach. There's a fair bit of sinful pride as she admires me. That pale touch explores each ridge of my abs, toys with the dark midline hair.

Then her fingers curve into claws, rake down my front. I hiss, grip her hips, press my thigh against the heat of her denim-clad core. "Harder," I order. "Both hands."

A sadistic light plays through Reece's gaze, but she obeys. Those nails drag furrows down my back, absolutely cripple me. It's not enough to draw blood, but damn I wish it was. My balls draw up in eager anticipation, my dick straining against my zipper.

"That's right, babe." I seethe past another a brutal kiss. "Take off your bra for me."

There's a sudden flash of hesitation, the heat dissipating with self-consciousness.

None of that.

I flick open the button on her jeans, slowly pull the zipper. My gaze doesn't deviate from hers, even as I slide the denim over her thighs. "Please, Reece."

She must like me begging – fine by me – because she arches up and unlatches the bra. She slides the straps from her arms, leaving me with the glorious view of pink, perky nipples that match the dusky, needy hue of her kiss-bruised lips.

"Jesus. Yes, babe." Groaning, I press a fevered kiss above her panty line, drag my piercing over the delicious texture of her scars. I trace her tattoos, nuzzling the shell of one breast, then the other. Glancing up, I meet her gaze for a heated moment. The desire there laps through me like a flame, makes me throb with the most delicious ache.

I cup her breasts, admire the weight, the feel of such soft flesh in my hands. She's white as milk, soft as satin. My thumbs flick over her nipples and her thighs clench around me.

"So responsive," I admire, allow a wicked smirk. Then I drop my head, capture one of her nipples in my mouth, the other in the webs of my fingers.

Reece spasms like I tasered her. Those slender fingers dig into my hair, press me closer, harder. I'm more than happy to comply, burning under her touch, over her body. I circle and she moans. I switch sides, flick my piercing across her nipple before I press her to the roof of my mouth.

She shrieks.

God, I love that sound. The noises she makes while I continue to torture her are better than fans pounding the plexi after a lamplighter. I can die a happy man, knowing I gave her this.

And I'm just getting warmed up.

I release her on a hard lick. She moans at the loss of contact, then gasps when I wrench her jeans around her knees. My hoodie falls back over her breasts where she rises on her elbows to stare at me.

"Bas," she manages. "You – God."

I nip and lap over the silver, pink, and red marks along her inner thighs and hips. "Touch yourself for me."

Her cheeks stain a darker pink. I wonder if she's ever touched herself for a man – if she's ever touched herself ever. Suddenly it's important that I press the issue.

"Reece." I draw her panties down, mouth absolutely watering at the sight of her. "Show me where you want me."

Her breath hitches and her thighs tighten.

"Show me," I coax, drag my tongue over her scars. "It's okay, you gorgeous woman. Touch yourself for me."

There's a thick swallow. Then, finally, her fingers trace along my jaw, the scars, delve between her thighs. She eases apart as those delicate fingertips dip down to slide over her clit, checks my face for approval.

Like she fucking needs it.

I drop to my forearms, kiss the back of her hand where she toys with herself. The scent of her arousal tightens my balls again. Christ. I nudge her aside and lick up the center of her.

The moan I wrench from her has my cock weeping in sympathy. She tastes divine. I take her thighs in both hands and deepen my kiss. Reece gasps, arches, presses her core closer and rides my tongue. It's so hot I physically break out in sweat across my bare back.

I circle her clit, lift the hood and suck.

"Oh fuck." Reece bucks for me, thighs clamping while those claws drag me closer. "Bastien – you – God."

She really is responsive. And so sweet. I feel the bite of her nails in my skin and scalp. She grabs my arm, my hair, the couch. Like she's fighting desperately not to unravel while I'm ensuring that's exactly what happens.

"Let me taste you," I plead, abandoning my worship only long enough to beg. "Come for me, baby."

"Bastien," she shudders where I take another smooth hit of her pussy.

God, I love how my name sounds on her mouth, the honeyed taste of her. And I plan on hearing it as often as possible. So long as she knows she's precious to me. That I'll keep her safe.

One swipe. Another. Then she shatters, convulsing, writhing, and expelling gibberish and expletives all at once. Good girl. She throbs around my tongue, wet and wonderful.

I sit up fully, wiping her juices from my lips and chin with my thumb, then lapping the digit clean. Reece watches with shuddering, awed arousal. The flush on her face has spread to her belly, her thighs. My girl gazes up at me, soft and satisfied.

"Good job, babe," I rumble.

She gives a pitchy laugh. "That's my line." Then she surprises me by sitting up, shoving her fingers through my hair, and dragging me down for a long, lingering kiss. I meet her stroke for stroke, admiring the feel of her in my arms.

Knock-knock-knock.

Reece withdraws, stares at my front door. "Expecting someone?"

"No." I capture her lips again.

Knock-knock-knock. "Killfeather!" A man's voice slurs. Johnson.

"Killfeather!" Joins a second. Bower. "Open up!"

I groan, dropping my forehead against the crook of Reece's neck. "You have got to be shitting me."

Reece makes a strange sound between a choke and a giggle. "Sounds urgent."

"Just my teammates." I skim my palm over her belly, admire the ink and scars.

"Killfeather!"

"Maybe if I ignore them, they'll go away."

"Killfeather!" Johnson's knocking has become a pounding so intense the entire apartment shakes. "C'mon! It's an emergency! Open the goddamn door!"

I pick my head up on a groan. "Somebody had better be fucking dying." Seriously, it's damn near three in the morning.

Still, they had used the magic word.

I stand from the couch, adjusting myself through my jeans to make my raging hard-on less apparent. Reece yelp-snorts. I hate watching her pull her panties and jeans back up around her hips and finger-comb her sex-hair into order. The thought comes to order her into my bedroom, but that might be a bit too forward.

I trudge toward the front hallway, open the door to a shit-faced Johnson, Bower, and no less than three puck bunnies.

"Seriously?" I eye the guys. "What is this emergency?"

Johnson places a big mitt on my shoulder, half jerking me into the hallway. "We were out at Club Kiss. Dancing."

"And we met...um," Bower screws his eyes shut. Then. "Oh! Brandy, Becky, and Brandy!"

"And dancing," Johnson slurs.

One of the girls rolls her eyes, clearly the more sober of the group. Batting her lashes and making no disguise at how thoroughly she checks out my bare chest, she nudges Bower and corrects. "Britt. My name is Britt."

"Yeah!" Johnson drags her close and presses a sloppy kiss on her cheek. "Brittney, bitch!"

Lord. I need to extract myself from this before they go full 2000's on me.

"Nice to meet you," I manage to sound half-civil.

She scopes me out hard. "You're the NHL player, right?"

I ignore her, face my teammates. "And the emergency is?"

"There's three girls." Bower points like I can't see which ones in the party are female. "And two guys."

"We wanted to get Haart in on it," Johnson guffaws. "But he said he had a headache."

I bite my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. "And?"

"Three chicks need three dicks!" Bower throws his arms wide. "Whaddya say?"

I make an inward eye roll. Once upon a time tag-teaming two or three chicks with my teammates was a highlight for my month. Now, it just sounds shallow and exhausting.

Fuck. I am getting old.

"You know they make toys for situations just like this one?" I prompt helpfully.

"Naw, man!" Bower isn't letting this go. "C'mon. Real dick is better than any toy."

Note to self: have a very serious conversation with Caleb Bower about how girls do not need men to achieve an orgasm.

"Hard pass." I respond, stepping back into my apartment. "I'm sure you two have everything handled. You guys have fun."

Johnson looks like I put his kitten in a blender. "Killfeather!"

"Good night." I shut the door in his betrayed-looking face.

Reece is sitting up on the sofa when I return, blush ten shades darker than when I left her. "What was that?"

"Couple of drunk idiots," I respond, plucking up and emptying the remainder of my beer. "No worries, eh?"

Her brown eyes regard me seriously as I flick on the television and switch back to Skin Wars. "You could go, you know."

I scoff, scrolling through to find the last episode I remember before zonking. "Go where?"

Reece curls in on herself. "With them. I mean...three girls at the same time sounds pretty exciting."

The implication is deafening. As if I'd rather be anywhere than here right now.

But, rather than go all sentimental on her, I take the dude route and face it head-on. "Not really."

That earns me a shocked blink. "What?"

"Not really," I repeat, turn to face her. "Two chicks at the same time sounds amazing. Porn builds this fantasy that it's this astonishing thing when, really, it's a lot of fucking work. Three girls? Forget it."

Reece looks like she's just as likely to slap me as kiss me. "You're not tempted?"

I find the episode of Skin Wars, drag her against my chest so I can spoon her. "Nope."

Those big brown eyes meet mine. "Not even a little?"

"Not at all," I clarify on a smirk. "I have an incredibly sexy girlfriend. What more could I want?"

Reece snatches the controller from me, backs up one more episode. I suppose she did pass out before me. "Girlfriend, huh?"

I nibble her ear softly. "Yep."

"This girlfriend of yours," she shudders and I'm suddenly rock hard again. "Must be pretty special."

"Oh, she is." I nuzzle her neck, loving this game. "She's wicked smart, gorgeous, and deeper than Mariana's Trench. Not to mention bold and fearless – "

She lets out a bark of laughter. "Fearless?"

I lift her hand, shiver as I press her palm against my jaw. "Kicked me right in the teeth."

"What a bitch."

"It was fucking hot." I nip her neck. "Scary, but hot."

Reece just shakes her head. "God, you're sick."

I run my tongue ring up the pulse point on her neck, love how my skin still smarts from her claws. "You have no idea."

This time she doesn't answer, just scoots her ass flush against my groin. I slide down and she rests her head on my bicep, hums when I shove my hand under her shirts and toy with the ink and scars on her belly.

Then, suddenly, her petite hand is around my girth through my jeans.

"What are you doing?" I grit.

Reece faces me, all heart-breaking innocence. "Doesn't it hurt?"

I can't focus past the giant wet spot in my boxer briefs and Reece's shy, firm grip. "Wh-what?"

"Your..." she trails off suggestively, giving another squeeze and pump to my slobbering dick. "Doesn't it hurt?"

Oh no.

I raise up, meet her gaze and search it. The fear is back, along with guilt. Like she's somehow hurting me, denying me an orgasm. Not that she denied it. My teammates are just assholes and ruined the moment.

And, now that she's offering, I suddenly feel filthy, and not in a good way. Like the pleasure I gave her was for nothing more than an expectation of reciprocity.

Then I remember what she told me about her ex, the abuse she sustained. The shameful glint in her eye makes sense and I have to remember it's not because of me. Still, I can't stop the derision from spilling.

"He really did a number on you, didn't he?" I leer.

Reece stutters. "What?"

"No, it doesn't hurt." I state instead, working like hell to keep my tone steady. Unconsciously, I draw her to me, bury my face in the eucalyptus smell of her hair where she rests against my arm. "Let's just finish a few more episodes. Then I'll take you home."