Chapter 3 The Golden Retriever Look
Grayson's POV:
Honest to fuck, ever since I spotted that vibrant mop of red hair that is Ginger Mikaelson, all I have been able to think about is having the woman bent over the first table, hair splayed out around her, ass bared while I fuck her tight little hole into nothingness.
Fucking wreck her, or worse, Ruin her till she can hardly walk, talk less of being able to process basic information for a week straight.
I know I should be angry. Hell I’m borderline pissed with her for leaving, but even as my eyes lock with hers across the rink, I know who I'm really irritated with.
Myself. For wanting her still.
“If I didn't know better, I could have sworn you were just giving Mikaelson the golden retriever look,” Norvan says, coming on the platform.
“And what would that “look” be?” I ask, humouring him.
“The classic ‘You're mine and I'd kill for you in a heartbeat’ kind.” Norvan smirks. “Tell me if I'm wrong.”
Once dinner got messy, I figured I needed a go on the ice so I texted my best friend who in turn notified the team. It was all I could do to take my mind off things.
Off her.
But even now, she's here, tormenting me.
I let out a forced, barked laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Norvan. That's my stepsister you're talking about.”
“Wait… It’s been made official?”
“Yup. Barely an hour ago.”
“That’s tough.”
“Yeah I don't wanna talk about it,” I say, making a dive for the puck, claiming it.
Defenders launch an attack, closing in fast; their sticks at the ready, skates slicing into the ice. I fake a right at the last minute—fooling the player blocking my path forward, then swiftly deck left, disc still in my possession.
Norvan glides up beside me again, not quite done yet. “Isn’t she the traitor’s spawn though?” he asks. “What was your father thinking?”
“Hell if I know.”
Two defensemen cut between us, cornering me.
“Pass the goddamn puck here Blackwood! I'm wide open,” Jacob—a human teammate—hollers across the rink to my side. I ignore him, pushing past the barrier. But Norvan just wouldn't Shut Up.
“Well if it's any consolation,” he says, nodding at a fast retreating Ginger, “I’d bang that in a heartbeat.”
My blood steels.
“Come again?”
“Man it was just a joke. Loosen up.”
“Well it wasn't funny dumbass,” I say, sending the puck sailing towards the net. It bounces off the metal bar, landing a few inches past the goal line. “Dammit!”
“Grayson chill out. It's just a game—”
“Maybe for you it is.”
“Woah. Okay that's it. We're getting off the ice.”
“What?”
“You need to work out this weird tension that's pushing you to say stupid shit,” Norvan says. “Kendrick's throwing a party. We're going.”
I contemplate tossing the puck at his head as he skates towards the boards—alerting the others of our plan—but then decide against it. He's probably right anyway.
My eyes flicker to the rink again, hating the disappointment that lances through me on realizing she's gone.
I grab my stick, leaving the ice. “You're damn lucky you're my beta.”
Fifteen minutes at Kendrick's and I already want out.
I am seated in a lone couch in an exclusive lounge, right next to Norvan who's found himself some fuck buddies for the night; judging by how he's been swapping saliva with the two blonde bimbos in slutty dresses on either side of him.
The music is loud. Loud enough to shatter my eardrums. The place is thrashed, practically a gleaming red beacon packed with hormonally drunk humans who have no idea just how many werewolves they're messily going down on.
This excludes the hot brunette currently sitting in my lap, rubbing her bottom against my crotch, hoping to get a reaction from me.
“This was a stupid idea,” I mutter.
“Probably because you've got your arse too tightly lodged up your throat to actually have a good time,” Norvan answers. “You've barely moved an inch for fucks sake.”
He kisses the chick on his left, his tone mocking. “You are way too sober for an Alpha's pup you know.”
“Watch it, Norvan,” I warn, my gaze narrowing on my best friend's sandy blonde hair. “Nevermind the fact we haven't gained our wolves yet. I can still put you down. Easy.”
Norvan raises his hands in surrender, taking a swig from his drink.
The girl on my legs—Vanya I think— huffs, turning to me.
“What’s a girl gotta do to get your attention?”
“I don't know, stop trying too hard maybe?”
She winces.
“That came out wrong,” I backtrack. “I’ve just had a really shitty evening.”
“Well, in that case…” She smirks then, dropping to her knees. “I think I can help with that.”
“Aand that's my cue to get going.” Norvan stands, the girls with him. “I’m gonna be over by the next room if you need me.”
Once he's gone, Vanya hands me a double shot of alcohol, stroking me through my pants. “To help you relax.”
I stare down at her. She's biting her bottom lip, eyes dark with lust—and maybe Vodka—as her hands move over my shaft.
I shrug, taking it. Perhaps that's exactly what I need tonight.
An escape route. A reason to stop thinking about Ginger.
Or about the other problem I know will be gunning for me tomorrow.
Vanya undoes my zipper with a hungry look in her eyes. Her warm mouth coats my dick a second later and she moans around me, causing a vibration to run up my spine.
Then her tongue flicks at my crown right before she hollows her cheeks and drops her head down over my entire length.
I tip my head back in pleasure, but then Ginny’s frame flashes before my eyes.
Red hair floating in the wind.. pale olive skin dancing in the sunlight..
And then another.
This time with her on her knees, pressed against me between the sheets, my fingers wrapped around her throat as I take her from behind, her breaths shortening with my every thrust, her ass slapping against my thigh with every stroke.
“Fuck.”
I stop Vanya. “What do you say we get out of here?”
We stumble into the kitchen through the back doors moments later.
Vanya's mouth is on mine and I'm kissing her viciously; forcing dirty thoughts of Ginny out of my mind…When a dull thump has me popping an eye open.
A fleeting second is all I have to process the look on her face.
Was that hurt? Or anger?
Ginger clears her throat, and I swear my blood rushes south.
Her tone is cutting. Biting even.
“Good to see some things haven't changed.”
