He doesn’t answer, just guides me to keep dry humping his thigh, harder and faster. I grip his arms, riding him shamelessly. “Beckett . . . Ohhhh, fuck.”
I’m panting and whimpering, my body desperate and strung out, the friction driving me out of my mind. Everything coils up and I’m right there, right on the edge.
Beckett’s mouth lowers to the shell of my ear. “Go home, Viktor. And knock off the stalking shit.”
He steps back, putting distance between us, then walks away.
He can't leave. Not again.
“Wait!” I call out, hating how desperate I sound. “Becks, please.”
But he doesn't turn around. Doesn't even pause. He just keeps walking, leaving me alone, frustrated and aching.
I lean my head back against the wall, closing my eyes and trying to catch my breath.
I don't get it. I'm offering myself to him on a fucking platter. Why won't he just take what he wants?
Because of this Noah guy? Because of some bullshit idea about power dynamics?
Or because . . . he doesn't want me?
“Chaos, get the fuck over here. Now.”
My eyes open and I whip my head around. Beckett’s standing at the curb, arms crossed. I pick my mask up off the floor, then jog to him.
“Since you want to push boundaries and continue to disobey me, your hands stay off your fucking cock.”
My brows lift, mouth gaping. “What?”
His features tighten. “You heard me. No fucking coming.”
A shiver runs down my spine, excitement mixing with the ache of denial. “For how long?”
He steps closer, gripping my chin and forcing me to look him in the eyes. “Until I say so, brat. And if you disobey me, if you even think about touching this . . .” His other hand ghosts over my dick, barely a whisper of touch, but it makes me whimper. “I'll know. And the consequences will be severe. Understand?”
I nod, my mouth dry, my heart pounding. “Yes, Coach.”
“Good boy.”
He releases me, then crosses the street back to his building. A grin spreads across my face, a giddy, reckless sort of joy bubbling up in my chest as I practically skip toward my stalkermobile to head home.
I’ll take this as a win even though I would’ve rather him fuck me senseless.
Chapter 9
Beckett
The chill of the rink seeps through my wool peacoat as I step out of the locker room and make my way to the bench, hands shoved deep in my pockets, I nod at Rinne as I take my place beside him. The tension in the air is palpable, the Serpents' fans loud and boisterous, their taunts and jeers a constant hum in the background.
Rinne leans in, his voice low. “Game’s gonna be a bloody one.”
Nieminen snorts. “Nothing like a little bad blood to get the crowd going.”
Rinne and I smirk at one another. Nieminen was a legend back in his playing days, a brute on the ice. He drew more than hisfair share of blood, but he always backed it up with points on the board.
My gaze drifts over the ice, taking in our players as they run through their drills. They're focused, intense, the gravity of playing their biggest rival on enemy turf weighing on them.
And then my eyes find Viktor.
