13. Winter

"What the hell?"I muttered, turning around in the mirror to see my underwear. I was changing in the bathroom after my morning shower and had just slipped on my panties. They felt different. Weird. I pulled them back down and stared.

Motherfucker.

Yesterday morning, I'd dropped my keys outside the house, or so I'd thought. One of the other girls had picked them up and left them inside. Now, I knew just how na?ve I'd been.

Asher had been in my room and messed with my stuff. My French lace panties had a crude hole cut in the crotch. That asshole. My body was still on high alert from that game he'd played with me, and now, I had fresh air whistling over my pussy because of him.

I wrapped my towel around myself, trepidation growing in my gut as I stormed back to our room. If he'd messed with that pair of panties, what had he done to the rest?

A quick look in my drawer confirmed it — he'd cut the crotch out of all of them. Outraged, I went through my bras next. There were nipple holes in every single cup. I sank onto the bed, speechless for once. I had no idea what to wear or do. I glanced at the rest of my clothes hanging silently in the wardrobe.

No…he wouldn't.

Flipping through the hangers, I was relieved not to see huge dicks drawn across the front of my shirts, before smaller, more discreet black writing caught my eye.

Can I call you daddy?

Call me princess and I'll sit on your face.

Insert dick here.

This cunt needs filling.

The small sentences, written in neat, artistic handwriting, scrolled around the clothes — shirts, shorts, skirts, and everything in between. They weren't in the most obvious places, so it was tough to track them all down.

"Motherfucker!" I all but screamed, sinking to the clothes-littered floor in front of my wardrobe.

That psycho had been in my room, fucked with all my stuff, and defaced it to the point where I couldn't wear it. On top of my underwear drawer sat a folded piece of paper. A pencil sketch. I opened it slowly, feeling hot with rage and something else I couldn't name. It was me in Eve's too-small dress.

Asher's drawing had only gotten better. He was talented, though I was sure it was a skill that would only ever be a hobby, seeing how committed he was to hockey. Still, it was beautiful.

I was beautiful through his eyes.

I smoothed the paper. I still had the one he'd drawn of me in senior year. How was the guy who'd drawn such a detailed, stunning picture of me the same one who'd come and cut the most vital parts out of most of my clothes?

"Holy shit, you made the paper," Selena exclaimed, banging into the room and shoving the gossip section of the Harbor Herald in my face.

Isabelle had taken my tip and run with it, adding to the buzz about the jersey stunt. It looked like I was well on my way to winning. Soon, everyone was going to think we were a couple. And then?

I couldn't let myself think too far ahead. Hopefully, Asher would agree after graciously losing our little game. Yeah, right.

"What's going on here?" Selena asked finally, staring around the room.

I blinked up at her. "Can I borrow something to wear today?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

The most annoying thing that Asher had tampered with was my portfolio. It was missing. I needed that back, and I needed it now, before class. I went in the direction of the Hellion dorms. Honestly, I would be lying if I said that evening the score wasn't high on my list of priorities. The audacity of that guy to fuck around with my stuff. That was thousands and thousands of dollars' worth of clothing. I stormed over there, feeling like steam was coming out of my ears.

Inside, only Marcus was still hanging around, scarfing down cereal and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. I went in when he opened the door for me.

"Where's Asher?" I demanded.

"You mean the other half of Winsher? He's out. Why? Can't last a whole night without missing him?" Marcus teased me.

"More like his scrotum is due for a trim, and I'm here to deliver."

I grabbed a pair of scissors off a nearby desk and snipped them viciously in the air.

Marcus stepped back, looking amused, and nodded toward a room. "Well, his room is through there. Wait in there. Go nuts."

"Thanks."

Asher's room smelled like him, so much so that electricity ran up and down my spine. That smell was hardwired somewhere inside me to turn me on. An unfortunate evolutionary response to a big, burly alpha male provider who could keep me safe in the wild and probably hunt with his bare hands. Well, screw that, he was a menace and a danger to my sanity.

I looked around for things to fuck with. First in the closet. It was empty. I sliced my scissors across the invisible clothing, wishing I was ruining his stuff as badly as he'd ruined mine.

Next, I checked the drawers. Empty. Suspicion stole through me. Had the asshole hidden his things?

I was just trying to get into his locked desk when a door slammed in the living space outside, and footsteps approached the door. Shit, he was back, and I'd wasted time by looking around for his clothes instead of searching for my portfolio. I folded myself into the closet and shut the door just as Asher strolled in. I watched him through the slats in the closet door, keeping my eye on his every move. He dropped his huge hockey bag with a sigh and threw himself onto his desk chair. After a moment, he stood and stretched this way and that, then shed the training clothes he was wearing. He'd fucked with all my stuff; he owed me a strip show.

He stripped down, leaving on just his tight, black briefs. He was like a goddamn underwear model. I could already picture the future sponsorships that would land in his lap when he made the NHL.

He lay back on the bed and pulled something out from under his pillow.

My portfolio.He flipped through it as I stood, agitated and seconds away from bursting out of the closet and raising hell. Slowly, the creeping feeling of tightness wound through me. I was in a small, dark room again. I had a few minutes until the panic set in.

"I can smell you fuming in there, Ice Queen, might as well show yourself," he said after a long moment.

Crap. He knew I was in here? That bastard Marcus must have told him.

I kept still. It suddenly seemed very important that I not move or announce myself. Let him think he'd made a dumb mistake and was talking to no one.

He set my portfolio to the side and put one hand behind his head. "Hmm, I guess I'm all alone, then."

His other hand worked down his stomach and over his black shorts, gripping his length. Was he going to jerk off right now? With me watching? I covered my mouth in shock when he slid his hand under the waistband of his briefs and moved in long strokes. I was transfixed. I couldn't look away. With a flick of his wrist, his briefs were pushed down, just enough to lift out his cock.

No wonder he was so cocky. He was blessed, it seemed, not just in the looks and talent department, but in his dick size. No wonder the fucker acted like God's gift to women.

"I suppose, since I'm alone, and there's no one in my closet, I can do whatever I want," he called toward me. "Either that, or someone who professes to hate me likes to watch."

"I do not," I heard myself say before I could help it. Well, what else was I supposed to do? Pretend I wasn't there, when we both knew I was, and watch him?

Before I lost it in the enclosed space, I pushed open the door and stepped out, averting my eyes from the sight of him stroking his cock right in front of me.

"To what do I owe this honor, Your Majesty? Come to return the favor from last night?" His dark eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Why would I do that? You seem very proficient with getting yourself off…had a lot of practice, have you?" I folded my arms over my chest and raised my chin toward him. No need to let him see how much he got to me.

He chuckled as he felt with one hand in his nightstand. "Not as much as you, it seems."

I glanced over at what he could be talking about and froze. My favorite vibrator bag was clutched in his hand. The freak had stolen my vibrator? I was going to kill him.

I held out my hand. "Give it to me."

"Give what?" Asher asked. His hand was moving faster on his cock, and it was hypnotic. I'd never seen a guy get off like this, in real life, right beside me. It was far more intriguing than I'd ever expected.

"Give it to me now," I ordered.

He chuckled and nodded toward the edge of the bed. "Sure thing. Push up that skirt, turn around and bend over, and I'll happily give it to you. Keep the crotchless panties on…I made them for you."

"Asher!" The protest slipped from my lips before I could stop it. So much for not letting him see how much he was getting under my skin.

"Yes, Ice Queen?"

"Stop doing that and give me my portfolio. I don't want to see you jerking off."

"Stop staring, then. No one asked you to watch," he advised and grinned when I glanced away, my cheeks growing hot.

"Why don't you have any clothes in this room?" I demanded, trying to change the subject.

"You think I'm going to let you come over here and cut my stuff up?" His laugh morphed into a half groan.

"You'd deserve it. You messed with my stuff?—"

"And you messed with my life. This is how the game works. It's okay not to win everything. The world won't end," he said and groaned low in his throat.

Was he close? He was really going to come right here, with me watching? I faced him; I couldn't help myself. I wanted to see this guy at his most vulnerable.

I'd only just turned toward him when his hand closed around my wrist.

"No!" I gave a strangled yelp as he tugged me into him.

I put my hand out to stop my descent, but there was nothing to hold on to. I landed on his lap, my hand brushing over his throbbing cock.

"Fuck, yes," he hissed, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

My brain struggled to keep up. I looked down as he took my hand and wrapped it around his cock. There was no way I was getting my fingers closed. It was too thick, marbled with veins and silky somehow, despite being so hard. That random observation occurred to me just as his cock pulsed in my grip. Surges of cum escaped the tip, long sticky stripes of it spilling over my hand. It was both horrifying and riveting. His pleasure washed over me in hot waves. It felt unbearably intimate, and I wasn't prepared for that at all. He thrust into my grip, his cock still hard and lubed up with his cum. It was obscene and visceral. The artist in me longed to photograph this man after he'd just come. All that coiled, lazy power filling the air, the way he watched my hand on him with hooded eyes, his broad chest rising and falling quickly; undone, but never diminished.

"What the hell!" I yelled. I let go of his cock and fixed him with a steely gaze. My hand was sticky and felt marked somehow, forever changed. "You pervert!"

He laughed. It sounded more lighthearted than usual. He thought he'd gotten one over on me. The competitive edge, born of the little girl who'd waited all damn day for her dad's attention, kicked in.

"You like that, Martino? How about this?" I brought my hand to his face in a flash and smeared my cum-slicked fingers across his lips.

He jerked. I cackled, feeling a bit unhinged.

"Oh, Your Majesty, you're gonna pay for that," he growled and grabbed me around the waist when I tried to get away.

I wiped my wet hand on the bedspread, which quickly absorbed all the cum. "Ha! It's gone. What are you going to do now?" I goaded.

He wrestled me onto the bed, looming over me, trapping my wrists in his huge hands. He stared down at me.

"Cum on your face is a great look for you…Is this what you and the other hockey players get up to after all that sexual tension building up on the ice?" I mocked, unable to heed the dangerous look in his eyes.

Then the corner of one of his full, frankly beautiful, lips tilted up. He ignored my goading about the team and lowered his face to mine. I realized what he was going to do just before he did it. I started to fight, but it was too late. He had one hand pinning my wrists, and he used the other to grip my chin. His wet lips met mine, his tongue forcing its way inside. His cum spread over my lips, slipping into my mouth, saltier than I'd expected, and musky in a way that my body seemed to react to. Maybe it was just biology, a chemical reaction, but I didn't hate it. Even though I should have…shouldn't I?

His tongue tangled against mine, fighting, caressing; I had no idea what we were doing, only that it felt good. Damn me to Hell, it felt amazing.

He moved over me, pressing me further into the bed. My legs went around his hips, trapping him against me. The hand on my chin moved into my hair, sending goosebumps rippling across my skin. Everywhere he touched, burned. He tugged my head back by the hair, giving me nowhere to hide from his hungry eyes.

"Is this the way to shut your venomous mouth? Should I just keep you like this, dazed and confused?" he murmured against my lips, before trailing his lips down my neck. The drag of his stubble sent pure pleasure shooting through me. I threw my head back, my back arching into him.

"Fuck, I like it when you taste like me," he muttered, making my heart pound. What was happening to me? What was happening to us?

A thump at the door sent my trembling heart flying into my mouth.

"Asher? Are we leaving or what?" Marcus said, just as he opened the door.

I sprang off the bed and evaded Asher's grip as he lunged for me.

"Learn to knock, Bailey," Asher growled at his friend as I danced out of reach.

I grabbed my bag and ran for it.

I was on my way to the art building when my phone vibrated in my pocket. My heart beat faster when I saw Asher's name.

I've got your portfolio, Ice Queen, in case you forgot what you came for…

I needed it back for class.

I kept my reply short and snappy. I was a bad loser and somehow, that encounter in his room felt like he'd scored another point.

Better come and get it then.

Right, like I was walking back into that room right now. I could still taste him in my mouth. My fingers flew over the keyboard.

Are you still at home?

Yeah.

Go to the window…

Okay, and?

Jump.

I stuffed my phone back into my bag and ran up the steps to the art building. It was too late to get it now; I'd have to get it later. Maybe I could ask Eve to grab it for me. She was a verified angel. She'd been the one to find me tied to the goal and free me last night, and then insisted that I borrow something to wear and go to the party with her.

"Don't let my brother see he got to you." As his twin, it seemed that Eve knew a little something about getting under Asher's skin, so her advice was gold.

Something else she'd said last night had stuck in my head.

"Are you really dating?" Eve wondered.

I swallowed hard. I didn't want to lie to Eve about me and her brother, but I also didn't want the truth to get out.

"It's complicated," I hedged.

"I'm not surprised. Asher's a great brother, a great son, but he doesn't have a good dating track record."

"No?"

Eve shook her head. "He's never made time for a girl in his life. Nothing has ever been more important than hockey, except me, of course, and our mom. He's got tunnel vision about his future. The only thing that has ever made him wobble from that is the dad stuff."

"Your dad?" I prodded.

She nodded. "I've never really cared about finding him. We don't have a dad. Simple. But Asher…I think he's always wanted to know what kind of man he came from. Since abandoning a pregnant woman is so far from what Ash would do, he can't wrap his head around it."

"You don't know anything about him?"

"Nothing. Asher's tried a whole bunch of times but has never had the resources. He needs a professional, I think, especially since our mom refuses to help."

"A professional? Sounds expensive," I murmured, my mind racing. Of course. Why hadn't I thought of this before?

Of course. This should have been my first strategy in winning our little game. It was a well-known fact that Daddy Martino was a mystery, even to his kids. Eve had never seemed bothered about finding out who her dad was, but it seemed like her brother felt differently. Here it was. A solid, tangible reason why the money I offered Asher could be more useful than him dicking around and refusing to help me. I had already looked up PIs the night before, including one who my dad had used in the past. I had a call scheduled for later today. Maybe if I got the ball rolling, then Asher would feel obligated to help me, once he found out.

Maybe…I could still pull this off. Win the game, and have a date for my dad's dinner.

It was worth a shot.