The Langfield Brothers: Box Set

27. Brooks

TWENTY-SEVEN

brOOKS

Beckett: I’m still trying to find the puck, Gav. ESPN is showing the play over and over again. One hell of a win. Congrats boys.

Aiden: Shot was sick.

Gavin: I’ve watched it six times. I can’t find it.

Me: Flew past his left shoulder. He was too low when Hall slapped.

Gavin: Ha! And that’s why I pay you the big bucks.

Beckett: Boy is cocky now that he’s got a girlfriend.

Aiden: He’s nauseating. All the kid does is smile and shoot heart eyes at Sara in the stands.

I slap Aiden on the back of the head as I walk past his locker.

He whips around and crows. “What? You know it’s true.”

“What’s true?” War has a towel wrapped around his waist, black hair spiked back. He’s clearly got something going on tonight. The man usually towel dries his hair and lets it remain wild after games.

“That Brooks is like a smiley oaf now. Bet you his brain chants Sara, Sara, Sara throughout the whole game.”

War’s genuine laugh makes me smile.

“Whatever. I’m happy.” I snag my towel from the bench and whip it at him. “Maybe if you talked to Lennox, you could be happy too.”

Aiden sighs and looks away. “I have a girlfriend,” he grumbles. “A girlfriend I love .”

I don’t buy it for a second, but I also don’t want to get involved with my brother and Sara’s best friend. Since we started fooling around, my mind’s enough of a mess. I don’t need to add to the insanity.

My phone lights up with another text. Instead of my brothers, it’s Sara. Just the sight of her name makes my heart stumble over itself.

Sara: Coach’s office. Now.

I turn so my back is to my locker and scan the guys around me to make sure they can’t see my screen, then I type out a quick reply.

Me: Playing with fire there, Sar. Don’t I have to be in the pressroom in like ten minutes? And don’t you have to be there now?

Sara: I got Hannah to cover for me. Don’t make me wait, Saint.

Saint . That’s all it takes. Fingers trembling, I button my shirt. Then I slip my jacket on, and I’m gone. Within three minutes, I’m throwing the door to the office open, head held high and shoulders back. The sight in front of me—Sara kneeling on the desk, legs bare, wearing my jersey, offering only a slight tease of what’s beneath—steals all the breath from my lungs.

Slamming the door shut so that no one else can get a peek at this perfection, I stalk toward her with only one thing on my mind: how quickly I can make her come.

“Crazy girl, what are you doing to me?”

Blue eyes dancing, she drops her hands to the desk and dips low, keeping her ass in the air, looking like a damn tiger ready to pounce. The move sends the trinkets on Seb’s desk scattering. An award of some kind clatters to the floor. I don’t know which one, because I can’t look away from her. I’m solely focused on what she’ll do next.

“I heard hockey players have a thing about their girls dressed in their jersey and nothing else. And since I didn’t get the reaction I wanted the first time I wore this, I thought I’d test it out. What do you think? Is this doing it for you?”

My cock strains against my navy-blue dress pants in response. “Yeah,” I say on a rasp. “I think I need to see it from behind. I wanna get the full effect of the number and the name on your back.”

Sara licks her lips. “I was hoping you’d say that. Get over here. Sit your ass in your uncle’s chair and fuck my pussy with that delicious tongue.”

I whip around and lunge for the lock, but I freeze when Sara hisses.

“Leave it.”

“Sar.” I shoot her a look over my shoulder. “What if he walks in?”

“Then he’ll see his goalie doing something he never could.”

Heart pounding right out of my chest, I turn on my heel. With a deep breath in, I stalk toward her. I squeeze my hands into fists at my sides and release them, desperate to feel the smooth skin of her ass.

She tracks my movements as I round the desk, even peering over her shoulder as I roll the leather chair forward.

I grasp her hips, relishing the way her soft skin gives under my hold. “And what’s that, Sar? What can I do that he couldn’t?”

She laughs. It’s throaty and devious and so fucking sexy. “So many things, Brooks.”

I kiss the back of her thigh and take in a deep breath through my nose.

She hums in approval. “But what I was referring to was make me come. Only you’ve been able to do that.”

My heart beats out a fast rhythm against my ribcage, and pride surges inside me. I may not be experienced, but I’m dedicated. And a bit of an overachiever. Working to make Sara come over and over again is not a hardship. It’s my new favorite activity.

After that first taste of her in the hot tub, I’m certifiably obsessed. Over the last two weeks, I’ve eaten her every chance I can get. I even snuck her into the back of the plane and played with her perfect pussy while Aiden serenaded the team with Taylor Swift songs. She got off twice. Once during “Shake It Off,” then again during “Wildest Dreams.”

This view—royal blue against her skin, the number thirteen on her back, and Langfield scrawled between her shoulder blades—might be my all-time favorite. Especially when it’s paired with her ass in my face and her smile aimed in my direction.

She’s a vision. Every dream I’ve ever had. The only woman I’ve ever wanted everything with.

Digging into her flesh with my fingers, I spread her cheeks and survey my new heaven. I angle in close, being sure each of my exhalations hits her skin, and watch the goosebumps pebble. But I don’t immediately give her what she wants.

Head thrown back, she moans. “Please, Brooks. Be a good boy and lick me.”

My cock swells further, threatening to tear a hole right through my slacks. I smack her ass cheek. Hard. Instantly, I’m leaking. The redness that blooms on her creamy skin might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. “Don’t tell me how to make you come.”

This moan is louder. Maybe loud enough for a person walking by to hear. She arches her back, pushing her ass closer to my face and putting that gorgeous glistening pussy on full display.

Shit. The temptation to give in is strong.But I push it down deep, determined to torment her.

“I should leave you here, wet and begging for me, while I go to the press conference. See how good you can be for me. See how wet you are when I get back. You’ll probably drip all over his desk just thinking about my tongue.”

“Yes,” she whispers, desperate now.

I smack her other cheek, leaving a matching mark. Then, because I can’t help it, I kiss the welt I left behind, then run my tongue against it.

“But I’d much rather talk to the press with your cum on my tongue. Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do.”

I don’t make her wait any longer. I keep my hands on her ass, spreading her even wider, and slide my tongue through her slit from front to back. “So good, Pumpkin. So fucking sweet and delicious.”

Pushing back, Sara rubs against my face, chasing her release, loud and unapologetic. “Make me squirt all over his desk.”

Fuck, now I really am going to come in my pants. Can I do that? Can I get her to squirt? “Fuck, Sar.” I drop my head to her ass cheek and close my eyes, willing myself not to explode in my pants. “Tell me what to do. I’ll be your good boy. I promise.”

“You always are.” Her voice is soft and full of praise, at complete odds with the filthy words coming from her mouth. “Give me two fingers, Brooks.”

I obey, watching the way she sucks my fingers into her warmth. Blood rushes in my ears at the thought of what it will feel like when it’s my cock. How good she’ll feel wrapped around me. Tight. Hot. Once I fuck her, I know I’ll want to live inside her.

The guys think she’s all that’s on my mind now? Once I get to feel this tight cunt wrapped around me, hockey will be a distant memory. Filling her. Listening to her soft whimpers and moans. There won’t be room for other thoughts in my mind.

“You’re so tight, Sar. So fucking warm. My cock can’t wait.”

“Yes, Brooks. I can’t wait for you to fill me. I’m dying to feel every ridge as you work your way inside. You’ll fill me so full I won’t be able to breathe. You’re big. I could tell when I rode you in the hot tub.”

That’s as close as she’s gotten to my dick. I’m not ready for more yet. Still haven’t gotten my fill of eating her, playing with her, teasing her. And the instant I sink inside her, whether it’s her mouth or her pussy, she’ll own me.

I’m a fool. Because whether I’ve been inside her or not, she already does.

“Now curve your finger. Then put your tongue back where it belongs.”

“Here?” I tease. Then I slip my tongue between her ass cheeks and lick my way up.

She moans like the dirty girl she is, loving the feel of my tongue pressed against that tight hole. “Oh fuck. Yes, Brooks. Right there.”

I work my fingers in and out, making sure to curl them as I do, and to slide my tongue all over. Her ass, her pussy, back and forth until she’s crying out, desperate for more.

More than happy to please, I give her a thumb.

“Holy shit, yes,” she pants.

I push my thumb deeper, stretching her tight asshole, all the while fucking her cunt with my fingers. When she goes over the edge, her body milks me, sucking me deeper. In response, I curl my fingers and press harder.

I’m rewarded when she christens the desk with her cum.

Holy shit. My hunger for her is nowhere near satiated, so I dip back in and lick her up and down until she’s begging me to stop.

“Please, Brooks. It’s too much. Too sensitive.”

Eyes closed, I lap at her once more. Then I pull back, drop my arms to the leather armrests of my uncle’s chair, and admire the view. Sara, spent and still on her knees, face pressed to the desk, chest heaving, legs wide, my jersey bunched up. Her blond hair is a wreck, and her skin is glowing.

But it’s always her smile that gets me.

When she slides off the desk and turns it on me, blue eyes the color of turquoise waters on a sunny day, pure happiness aimed in my direction, that’s when I know I’ll be walking out of this office a happy man.

Everything else is just icing. But Sara happy because of me? That’s the damn Stanley Cup.