What the Puck!?

Chapter 5: Wild Horses

Jason

When she got off the elevator, I didn’t know what to think. She had been throwing me curve balls since I saw her at the rink.

She walked toward the sign in front of the elevator and stopped. I foolishly thought she was waiting for me. But the moment I turned toward my room, she booked it in the opposite direction.

I watched as she almost sprinted to her room as if she was afraid. When she got to her room and looked at me, I couldn’t fight the arousal I was still feeling. But I thought I could accept defeat.

So I thought…

When I got to my room, I checked my phone and found multiple missed calls and text messages. I skimmed through and realized quite a few were from unknown numbers. Unfortunately, that was not surprising. These puck bunnies had no shame, and clearly, the people who gave them my contact information had none, either.

The text messages were filled with faceless pictures and plenty of fleshy shots. I instantly blocked all of them. While I was not above entertaining a woman who only wanted me for s*x, I knew there were different levels of crazy with these puck bunnies. The ones who managed to get my contact information or quite a few times into my hotel room were not worth the trouble. I found that out the hard way.

There were a few texts from Becca. I don’t know why I hadn’t blocked her number. We had a terrible relationship and an even more toxic breakup. When she moved to Atlanta, it was a relief. Seeing her tonight and her reaching out to me after the game made my blood boil.

The anger only became more irrational when I thought about Zania. I wanted her, and I knew she wanted me. But she ran away from me after she spewed all that s**t in my face at the bar.

What was more f****d up is that it was all reminiscent of my time with Becca. Accept she never turned me down. We may have been toxic as s**t, but Becca always knew when to yield.

Is that why I wanted Zania? Because I am drawn to a woman who will probably fight me to her last breath? Geez, how f****d up, am I?

But I didn’t even bother to answer the question before I realized I had left my room, and I was now knocking on the door I saw Zania walk into. I’m surprised by how soft I knock, given how much unexplainable energy is coursing through my veins.

I stand there for what feels like hours. But I know it has only been seconds. I know she is awake. Then suddenly, I can feel a prickly feeling crawl up my spine.

“Zania, I know you are staring at me through that peak hole. Open up. I know you want to,” I say in a low growl. I don’t know how, but I know this will trigger her to open up.

She opens it and is glaring hard at me. But she has already made her first mistake; she opens the door too wide, and I step in. If looks could kill, my brain and balls would be blown to smithereens right now.

Just as she opens her mouth to probably tell me to get the f**k out, I walk towards her, and I can tell she is surprised. It urges me forward, and she backs into the now-closed door. I quickly grab her wrists in one hand and pin them above her head and step my right leg in between her thighs.

She bucks against me once, but it feels like it is for show. Her right leg is between mine, and I get the impression that she isn’t above kneeing a man in his balls. Zania stares up at me with a volatile stare, and her chest moves rapidly against mine.

What the f**k am I doing?

I don’t know this woman, and I have barged into her room like some s****l predator. This is some s**t out of a woman’s nightmare. While I may have a bit of an alpha personality (which hockey players didn’t), I never chased a woman and felt the need to claim one physically.

But here I am, and I can’t bring myself to remove myself from the heat of her body. I look down and realize she has a robe on, and it appears like there is nothing underneath.

Part of the robe isn’t very secure, and it is open to such an extent that little effort would expose that beautiful caramel skin underneath. My eyes slowly make their way back up from her cleavage to her full lips, which are slightly parted. I am standing so close that I can practically taste the hints of alcohol on her breath.

With my free hand, I grip her waist. My grip tightens when I see her eyes close a little longer than necessary and open with a glare still present but with less intensity. I soon move my hand to the tie that is barely keeping the robe closed. I hear a quiet hitching of her breath.

“Do you want me to leave?” I ask her quietly. She doesn’t respond. I pull the tie loose.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, my voice a little rougher. She still doesn’t say anything but her eyes narrow. Without breaking eye contact, I slowly slide my hand into her robe. My d**k is already uncomfortable, but the feel of her soft, smooth skin in my hand is making the hardness in my pants almost unbearable.

I run my hand slowly along her side feeling her narrow but defined waist, and work it down her hip toward her ass. Her ass is amazing. It is thick with a faint hint of muscle. She clearly works out, but that ass is definitely God-given and not just from the gym.

We are still staring at each other, and every time I move my hand to another part of her body, her eyes close for a bit. She wants this, but she is such a stubborn ass that she won’t fully submit to it.

I return my hand to her front and glide it to her breasts. They feel perfect in my hand. I know the cliche is that more than a handful is wasteful. But she has more than a handful, and there is nothing wasteful about them.

I want to look down at them, but the softening of her face is hard to break away from. I want to take both of her soft breasts into my hands, but I don’t know if she is quite ready for me to let her hands go. So I pinch and lightly pull her n****e, and she lets out a slow hiss. I fight the smile that is trying to break across my face.

“If I run my hands down further, will your p***y tell me that all your resistance is for show?” I say as I lightly brush my lips against hers. When I reach down, I’m surprised to find it bare. I rub my fingers along the smooth fold and brush my fingers just past her c**t. She bites a moan, but the effort is in vain.

“I’m surprised. You seem like at least a landing strip kind of girl.” I state as her wetness easily coats my fingers.

“My ex didn’t like the landing strip. Sorry to disappoint you,” Zania says as the glare returns to her eyes. This woman is a f*****g infuriating. I am irritated that her hostility is only fueling my hunger for her right now.

“Oh yea?” I say as I shove my fingers into her. She moans as I smash my lips into hers. I finally release her hands as I f**k her with my fingers. Her kiss matches my energy as if she is trying to fight me for dominance.

I feel her hands grab the lower parts of my shirt and pull me towards her. I am ready to f**k her right now, but I can’t resist the urge to provoke her. With my newly free hand, I reach up and grab the top of her throat, pulling away from the kiss and pulling my fingers out of her.

“Wha- What are you doing?” she groans as she starts to rub herself on my leg. I stop her by holding her hip and limiting her movement.

“Maybe your ex should be the one to come f**k you then,” I saw in a husky voice. Her eyes narrow. While I’m not surprised her first instinct is to hit, I expected a slap. But she braces herself on the door and shoves me harder than I would have anticipated. I don’t go far because the difference in size between us is substantial despite her height.

I step back, and she shoves past me, not even bothering to close her robe. The heat of her anger draws me in like a moth to a flame.

“f**k you and get the f**k out of here,” she snaps when she turns to look at me again. Her angered face is instantly replaced by shock when I quickly step back into her space and turn her around, pinning her to the wall and her hands behind her back. I wrap my hand around her throat again, and she bucks against me like a wild horse refusing to be broken.

But she will break for me, at least for tonight anyway.

I lean into her ear as I say, “Oh, you will f**k me. And I know you will f**k me good 'cause you are a stubborn asshole who thinks she has to be in control.” At my words, she stops bucking, but she is breathing hard, and I can feel her heart racing beneath my hand.

I slowly release her wrists from behind her back, but she doesn’t move them from their position between us. Before she can change her mind, I quickly stick my fingers back into her dripping p***y.

Zania moans as her forehead falls against the wall in front of her. Her body relaxes as I f**k her again with my fingers.

“Now, are you going to be a good girl and stop fighting this?” I ask as I start to kiss her neck. I expect her to be stubborn and not submit. Part of me wants her to keep fighting, but the throbbing in my c**k is ready for this to be done and to submerge himself in her.

“Yes,” she says softly. I can’t resist.

“Yes, sir,” I say. She doesn’t respond, and I tighten my grip on her throat and withdraw my fingers from inside her.

“You are a f*****g asshole,” she says in a slightly strangled voice and pushes her hands to the wall to try and push me off of her. I don’t budge.

“I am. And so are you. But I know you want to c*m, and I plan to make you do it all over my tongue and d**k. All you have to do is be a good girl and say it,” I whisper in her ear as my full weight presses her body into the wall.

She lets out an exasperated groan.

“Yes, sir,” she finally says.

“Good girl,” I saw as I kiss her shoulder and pull her from the wall. I carry her to the bed and show her what it means to be a good girl to a “f*****g asshole.”