CHAPTER FOURTEEN

COLTON

Ricky slaps me on the ass, turning on the shower beside me. I thought that kind of kinky bro shit was limited to the States.

Ricky runs his hands over his head, eyes closed against the stream of water. “What happened to the pitbull, Beckett?”

One hand against the wall, water funneling between my shoulder blades, I look sideways at him. “Pitbull? That some Canuck pickup line?”

His eyes open. “I’m saying, that can of whoop ass you unleased on us earlier is evaporating. That would be a bad thing if this gentle giant bullshit wasn’t even better.”

“You’re calling me soft?”

He puts his hands up, swiveling to face me. “Not at all. I’m just sayin’ you seem less like a steam train with a chip on its shoulder and more of a surgeon these days—clinical, calm. So, what’s up? You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?” He glances down. “’Cause those balls ain’t blue.”

I flick water at him. “What do you know about my balls?”

“Something has changed. The whole team knows it. Even Coach. You come off the ice these days and you could double for Gandhi you’re so chill.”

I stare at the wall. I hadn’t noticed it, but I suppose I have toned down the sledgehammer routine. Fuck knows why, but I’m starting to like these guys. I don’t want to send them to the sick bay.

There is another reason.

Harper.

At the hotel it was like she was trying to make up for a whole lifetime of missed sexual opportunities, much to my pleasure.

“Yeah,” I confess, “I am seeing someone.”

Ricky slow claps. “Atta boy. Anyone I know?”

“She’s not a student,” I tell him, and ain’t that the fucking truth.

“Oooo,” he coos, “town girl. Bet you’ve been pounding her ass real nice, am I right? Given that weapon I bet girls need a walking frame after a night with you.”

I smile, think about what happened in her office, the way her mouth was caught open, her entire body at the mercy of my mouth. And fuck did she taste amazing, her pussy squeezing my fingers tight.

I quickly shut off the taps before I go full salute and give Ricky here the wrong impression. “You could say that.”

He shakes his head as I head to the bench to towel off. “You’re a fucking animal, Beckett,” he calls, adding a “Ahhh-ooooo!” to drive home the point.

Fifteen minutes later I’m actually looking forward to walking into the college bar. The same shitty grunge is playing, but it’s all growing on me—this place, the Beebs, my team… Harper.

Commitment has never been my strong suit, but she’s as close as I’ve come to something I could envision seeing myself with longer than a week. A lifetime of that kind of sex? Sign me the hell up.

The sex is great, but it would be nothing without the woman behind it—the real turn-on. She’s got all the potential in the world. She just doesn’t know how to eke it out, but I can show her, prove to her she’s more than this place, this town.

I arrive at our usual table and knock the surface twice. “Knock knock.”

“Beckett!” comes the communal cry. I’m pulled down into a seat, a beer slipped into my hand.

“So,” Andy starts, an arm around my shoulder, “you know it’s karaoke night, right?”

Fuck me.

I nod to the tiny stage in the corner barely big enough for a mic stand. “Kind of figured given the way that guy’s shitting all over Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

Andy stands, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Attention, inbreeds. Uncle Sam here says he’s got the vocal stylings of Bruno Mars. Who wants to hear him sing?”

A boisterous cheer goes up. Me and my big fucking mouth.

I’m hoisted up by the team and shoved towards the stage, the poor guy (trying to) sing Nirvana cut off as a mic is shoved into my hand. “I’m not singing O Canada,” I tell the guys, “or Sk8ter Boi.”

Andy ruffles my hair. “Fuck, man. Don’t go disrespecting Avril like that.”

“At least give me something made in the USA.”

Andy smiles, pulling the laptop over and punching in a song. “I don’t know about something made in the USA, but how about something born in the USA?”

The following rendition of the Bruce Springsteen classic soon turns into a giant group singalong, even Old Man River behind the bar getting in on the action.

The song finishes and the place erupts. I’m dragged back to the table to another round, a group of girls joining us all too keen to sample The Springsteen for themselves.

I’m having a great time, sure, but through it all I’m thinking of Harper. I want to see her, be with her.

Ricky arrives, taking a seat beside me. “I could hear that shit halfway across campus.”

I take a swig of my beer. “Don’t they teach you assholes how to sing?”

The topic of conversation soon turns to what’s coming after college. As we move around the table I start to realize how low these guys are setting the bar. No matter what happens to me, I’ve got money to fall back on, a future of some sort, but these guys? They’re aspiring to a two-bedder in the ’burbs and a good dental plan. A couple of them are seriously talented players, but they know the NHL isn’t going to be knocking on their doors.

I’m more surprised by the genuine interest they’re taking in my life. They ask about my brothers, what it was like at Abbotsleigh. I tell them, leave nothing out. I owe them that much.

I check my watch and realize it’s close to midnight. The karaoke’s continuing, but I think I’m going to lose my fucking mind if someone sings I’m a Gummy Bear again.

My cell starts to vibrate in my pants. I take it out.

It’s Harper.

Outside, I answer with one finger plugging my ear. “It’s loud, sorry.”

“Where are you?” she asks.

“College bar.”

She laughs. “On karaoke night?”

“Let’s just say Springsteen’s rolling in his grave.”

“He’s dead?”

“He will be when he hears that.”

“You up for a late-night walk?”

“Always.”

“Meet me down by the river in five minutes, near that Narnia-looking light post thingy.”

“My cock’s been called many things, but a—”

I can imagine how hard she’s eye-rollin’ me right now. “Just get down there, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I say a quick goodbye and make my way down to the small river that weaves its way around the perimeter of Branton. The moon shifts in and out of the cloud cover above, the surface of the icy water lit in patchy spots of silver.

Harper’s standing under the lamppost, her hands in her coat pockets, a smile on her face. She’s the dictionary definition of a snow bunny with flakes in her hair and puffy jacket. I brush a snowflake off her lower lip, let my finger linger there against the wet heat of it. “You look beautiful.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

I extend my arm. “Shall we walk?”

“We shall. By the way…” She holds up her cell. On it I’m singing my heart out. “And he can sing.”

I snatch away the phone, shaking my head at the video. “But this was, like, an hour ago.”

“I suppose you having heard of a little something called social media. We have that up here too, you know.”

I pause the video and pass the phone back. “Please tell me that’s not a public profile.”

She can hardly contain her laughter. “Uploaded anonymously for the world to enjoy, I’m afraid, but don’t worry. Only every single student at Branton will see it.”

Now she laughs, far too manically for my liking.

It occurs to me. Shit, I’m dating a supervillain.

“Can we talk about something else other than my Voice audition?” I suggest, taking her hand.

It’s small talk to begin with, but it soon becomes clear Harper wants to get deep and meaningful, clarify her emotions, so to speak.

She pulls around in front of me, the river flowing to our left, a band of trees to our right. “What are we, Colton, honestly? What am I to you?”

I stroke her cheek. “What do you want to be?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t give me that alpha mumbo jumbo. Tell me what you’re feeling. You do have feelings, don’t you?”

“What I’m feeling?” I laugh. “I’m feeling horny.”

She shoves me, smiling. “I’m not talking about your dick.” She taps the side of my head. “What are you feeling up here, about us?”

This isn’t the time for it. I can’t unpack my so-called feelings right now. I don’t even know if it’s possible after the emotional scarring my father inflicted. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, yes, but actual nourishment—emotional nourishment—was in seriously short supply. I always thought it was for the best, a way to harden an individual, to shield them from the big wide world and its many troubles, but I’ve come to realize it’s left a void in me so large and expansive I’m not sure it will ever be filled.

Instead, I take Harper with both hands and crush her mouth with a kiss, let my tongue slip into the soft warmth beyond.

I expect her to push me away, but as the kiss deepens and her hands snake around my back, I know any further ‘talk’ is lost.

I reach down to her ass and lift her up, our lips still locked together. I walk us over to a sugar maple, pressing her up against it as the snow crunches and compacts below, only moonlight our witness.

Our tongues press together, one of my hands slipping down the front of her jeans to cup her pussy. Her need is clear, the urgency we both feel. I explore the tight space between her legs, my hand hot, her sex wet and yearning.

I move my mouth to her ear, gently pulling it with my teeth until she’s moaning for more, hips jerking forward as I apply pressure to her clit.

“Is this what you want?” I whisper.

She nods in reply, her breathing deep and steady.

She continues to moan in my ear while I tease her clit, slowly awakening her need. Her hands slip under my shirt, open out against my chest.

There’s something different about the way we’re moving this time. Everything is amplified and urgent, like a farewell of sorts.

But I don’t want it to be. I want more.

Whatever happens, it must be unforgettable.

Her arousal pools around my wrist. She begs me to take her, pleads for it.

“Whatever you say, baby, but it’s not going to be Mills and Boon… not tonight.”

She gasps as I turn her around and thrust her hard against the bark.

One hand holding her back, I use the other to roughly yank down her jeans and panties, dragging them down to her knees so her ass is exposed to the cold night air. Her hands press out against the trunk of the maple, her cheek flat against it, mouth wide. “What are you doing?”

My hand glides across her tight ass, my fingers following its sweet contours, occasionally drifting across her crack. Her glutes are firm before she relaxes.

I smack her ass firmly, driving her into the tree. She yelps, shocked, her backside soon relaxing for more.

I strike her harder, the imprint of my hand left on the delicate white of her skin. “Is that what you want?”

I don’t wait for her reply before whipping my hand against her again, the hollow thwack of it echoing away into the night, lifting her onto her toes.

When I run my hand between her legs again, I’m pleased to find she’s even slicker, the insides of her thighs wet with want. My fingers disappear into her easily, sawing there in her heat.

She’s so hot, her once steady breathing has turned heady and haggard. I press my pants down and take hold of my cock, guiding it between the pale globes of her ass until I find her wet hole, driving into her hard from the first stroke.

She pants once, a punctuation mark, her body drawn against the tree as I crush her from behind, my head against hers, my breath hot on the side of her neck.

I’m relentless, using my full weight and power to thrust into her tiny frame, to fill her with the full length of my thick cock.

She groans, gripping the bark of the tree, tongue lolling in her mouth and eyes closed against the assault.

I love the sound she makes as I stroke into her, harder and faster, building up into a solid, unstoppable rhythm, her soft ass riding up against my chest and pelvis, her wetness coating the root of my cock every time it’s birthed from her searing passage.

I hold her hip with one hand, tug her hair back with the other so I can better see her expression, her complete and utter submission.

She whimpers as I fuck her, crying out with every thrust.

“I’m going to come,” she drones.

“No,” I warn her. “Not yet.”

“Please,” she begs as I drive into her body again, crashing hard against her, a sudden breeze rushing through the branches above.

My hand shifts to her throat. I apply light pressure. “Do you want to? Do you want to come all over my big, hard cock?”

“Yes,” she pleads. “Yes.”

Her body convulses, her pussy contracting violently around my pulsing cock.

I can’t help it. Her orgasm brings on my own. I tense before allowing my own release. She milks me from the inside as I fill her, continuing to press back against me until we can’t possibly soar any higher.

With one final spurt, I grind her into the tree, my still-jerking cock slipping free from her dripping hole.

I look down with a hand beside her head, try to regain my breath.

She turns around, pulling up her jeans and panties with shaky hands. “That was…”

I’m shaking myself as I tuck my cock away. “That was… something, yes. I wasn’t too…”

“Rough?” she laughs. “No. I… liked it.”

I’m glad. It wouldn’t be the first time my enthusiasm has sent a woman running for the hills. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard,” I confess, neglecting to tell her exactly how many girls I’ve been with, how many times I’ve come but felt nothing at all except emptiness and loss.

But not now, not with Harper.

I pull her into me as the pleasure subsides and our breathing returns to normal. I take her hands, white and cool, and press them against my cheeks, smiling, but there’s a seriousness to her expression that’s concerning.

She takes her hands away, stuffing them into her pockets. “I’ve still got tomorrow’s class to prepare for. I should go.”

“Do you want company?”

She looks away, shaking her head. “Colton… That was… great, incredible, but what we’re doing can’t last. You do know that, right?”

I force the irritation that rises up away. “Sure. Of course.”

“Good,” she says, reaching up to kiss my cheek before starting to walk back to campus.

I stand in the snow watching her go.

She’s right. As much as I want it to, this can’t last… just like everything in my fucked-up excuse of a life.