Since I pulled a silly me and forgot to sign up for Sunday Sneak Peeks this week, I thought I`d just go ahead and share a bit from A Most Unlikely Countess, book two of the To Love a Wildcat series. Release is set for 4/4, unless something unexpected crops up. I hope you enjoy this little look at Liz`s life after she agrees to pen Veikko`s memoirs. This scene takes place after a rather memorable trip to the Wildcats` locker room for our shy little biographer.
Even though this blog does have a mature content warning before you enter, let me put this up just in case:
This excerpt contains mature and explicit language that concerns a certain part of the male anatomy. These are hockey players, folks. They`re not nuns. If such words offend you, do not read any further. If you like dirty words and/or hockey players in various forms of undress, read on!
A brief volley of cock-related jibes flew back and forth. I was never so grateful to see a man as I was when Veikko appeared. He was still in his pads and uniform, having stayed on the ice longer to drill with the assistant goaltending coach, Sebastian Kirby, a tall lean man with a warm smile hiding under a huge nose. Coach Kirby`s task was to fire shots at the goalie repeatedly. Veikko looked down at me hidden among his equipment and clothing.
“Is there a reason you`re hiding in my cubicle?” he asked, leaning on his fat hockey stick, a trace of amusement playing over his lips.
“She is hiding from all the penises,” Alain offered, sliding his briefs up over his firm ass. I mean, what I assume would be a firm ass. Not that I was eyeballing my best buddy`s boyfriend’s backside or anything. Oh God, even my eyelashes were hot with embarrassment. My ass scooted further into the enclosure.
“Well, that`s understandable,” Veikko said casually, “Seeing such tiny things being touted as something large and impressive would confuse any woman.” He winked at me then offered me his hand. Sliding my fingers across his palm I inhaled at the sensation of his flesh and mine meeting. Keeping my eyes averted I muttered a query about the exit.
“Tiny? Please! My cock is so formidable it could be used as a battering ram,” Lessard threw back, driving his elbow into Andersson`s ribs. The captain grunted, hitched up his towel, and slapped the young pup from Quebec upside his wet head.
“Do you think you can stop talking about your stupid puny dick, Lessard? Can`t you see the woman isn`t used to having genitals in her face?” Andersson barked.
Yeah, that was the final straw. I made a wild run for the exit, slamming into and then rebounding off the imposing-yet-handsome-for-an-old-guy form of head coach Philip Moore. If I were thirty years older and not mortified on a continual basis . . .
I didn`t stop running until I was out of wind, which was roughly twenty feet from a ladies room. Inside I went, huffing and puffing. I was not about to blow anything down.
“Shit,” I mumbled as I found my reflection in one of fifteen mirrors over fifteen sinks. My cheeks were still scarlet. My hair was filled with static. I must have been sweating because my mascara had run. I looked like some introverted chick version of Brandon Lee in The Crow. Digging into my black canvas tote I located a scrunchie. It was green with yellow polka dots, which clashed pretty badly with the whole gray skirt, leggings, vest, and long-sleeved blouse look I was rocking but, tough shit. Pulling my hair back I pony-tailed the ebony mass then I scrubbed my face violently, hoping to remove not only the mascara but the shame of being so fucking inhibited.
As I was drying my face on coarse brown paper towels, the door opened. I lowered the clump of damp towels to see Veikko peeking around the door.
“Are you alone in here?” he asked on a whisper. I nodded. He stepped inside. The man filled the ladies room with his presence and padding. “I think I should apologize. I know you`re shy. I should not have plunked you down like a delicate rose among all those nasty weeds.”
“It`s okay,” I mumbled, balling the towels tightly in my left hand. He shook his head. He had shed his skates but he was still in his goalie get-up. The scent of sweaty man clung to him. It wasn`t a bad smell at all. No, not at all.
“You`re too forgiving,” he said, reaching out to grab my chin to lift my sight from his black stocking-clad feet. “The next time you can talk to them when they are not naked.”
“Thanks.” I smiled. He smiled back. The sink behind me was a Godsend for it kept me upright.
“Your eyes are so warm,” Veikko said, tipping my head back slightly, the pads of his fingers rough on my freshly scrubbed skin. “You should wear your hair off your face so that those eyes can be seen. Most women, they don`t have honesty in their eyes, but you? You think it then there it is on your face and in your eyes. It is something I haven`t seen for many years.”
My brain was screaming for someone in my cranial language department to make words. Obviously they were on a coffee break. Some weird gurgle happened in my throat. Voices erupted in the hallway. Veikko released my chin.