O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!
Being a single working mother isn`t easy. Just ask Maggie Charles. She`s juggling a job she hates, a rebellious teenage son, and the aftereffects of an abusive first marriage. There isn`t room in her life for a love affair, not that anyone would want to romance someone her age anyway, right? So why, after all these months, when she runs into the strapping Wildcats` captain at a charity event, does the sight of Derrick Andersson leave her so breathless once again? Is that really desire burning in the captain`s green eyes when he looks at her?
Is it possible for a couple of been-there-and-done-thats to find love the second time around?
O Captain! My Captain!
Book 3 of the “To Love a Wildcat” Series
Enjoy these excerpts!
“Yeah, can you two please find a room and use it. That is just so wrong.” My son went back upstairs. My lips left Derrick’s against their wishes.
“We are just so wrong,” I whispered over Derrick’s tempting mouth. I looked deeply into his green eyes, fascinated as always by the flecks of gold that highlighted the jade.
“But it feels so right,” he said, and then kissed me again. A low, long rumble that came from his stomach finally broke up our totally wrong hello make-out session. “Sorry about that,” the man said as he stepped back from me to rub his belly. “I didn’t eat since breakfast. Whatever you’re cooking, it smells real good, Maggie.”
“It’s nothing fancy, just spaghetti with my secret sauce, a tossed salad, and an apple crisp for dessert,” I said as his fingers slid into mine. I led him to the kitchen. “Have a seat while I get the water on to boil. Beer?” I asked while opening the fridge. “I bought some Grain Belt at the beer distributor.”
“I think I love you,” the big man said while lowering himself into a chair. The chair legs complained a bit. “How’d you know?”
“I’m full of surprises,” I said as I handed him a cold bottle of Grain Belt Nordeast, a golden American lager, as well as a bottle opener. Derrick took a long pull once the top was off. His eyes drifted shut in ecstasy. “Actually, I saw a picture of you on the internet wearing a Grain Belt t-shirt during a fishing trip with the guys.”
“No one makes beer the way they make it in Minnesota,” he sighed, dreamily. I smiled at him and opened a bottle for myself before returning to work. I turned on the hot water, and then filled my favorite non-stick stew pot. “So what did you think of that second game?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “I think it was a good thing you won or Veikko would be out of goalie sticks.”
Derrick grinned widely. My fingers were itchy to get to that beard of his, or his chest, or his hairy legs. Is there anything finer than that wondrous abrasion of a man’s body hair on your smoothly shaven body? Phew. I needed to simmer down. It would be a long time before Trevor went to sleep. I concentrated on putting the water on the gas flame instead of that brisk cologne that was tempting me.
“Those Finns, they got some wicked tempers,” he commented between sips of his favorite beer.
“And you don’t?” I laughed out loud before I stole a sip of beer. I turned to look at him. Big mistake. He looked so perfect in my kitchen, sitting back completely relaxed, sharing a beer with me as we made small talk. I spun around. My mind needed an occupation besides daydreaming. I gave it the job of making the salad. The conversation went from one thing to another. Light stuff, nothing serious or heavy. He chatted about his days in the minors. I told him about my years being a stay-at-home mother. I didn’t tell him why I stayed home. The man didn’t need to know I wasn’t allowed to work outside the home. I might have cheated on Travis if I had a job, you see. I also might have had some money to leave his abusive ass, which I’m sure the man knew. Keeping me home without cash was just another means of keeping me under his thumb, the miserable—
“Hey, you still here with me?”
I bobbled the knife I was chopping those fresh peppers with. “Yes, of course,” I lied to the man now standing directly behind me. He was terribly sneaky for such a big man. Or perhaps I had been terribly distracted. His fingers were cold when he brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.
“Where do you go, Maggie?” Derrick asked, and then placed a kiss under my ear.
“Sorry. Sometimes I sink into a dark place in the past,” I replied as I got back to chopping. “Someday, I’ll tell you about it.”
“Fair enough.” He stood behind me, arms tight around my waist. It was the most enjoyable salad prep I had ever been involved in.
“Rumors are circulating widely that new Wildcats owner, Isabelle Lancourt, has the hots for the big Russian, Petro Shevenko. If I were her, I’d be waving a waiver paper under Derrick Andersson’s busted nose. The ’Cats would benefit greatly from a young stallion on that first line center position. I love the grit the fort- year-old Andersson shows, but let’s face facts. There is no way Andersson can handle our man, Jacques Martinique, am I right Drew?”
All eyes moved to Derrick. He lowered his glass from his mouth.
“You don’t got to worry, I’m not going anywhere. This here is our second chance to hoist The Cup. This year, it’s going to happen. I can feel it in my bones. I ain’t missing that unless I’m dead. So yeah, no worries. I’ll be there when we win.”
He sounded so sure, so confident in not only his team, but in himself that it was nigh onto impossible not to feel the same. No wonder he had been chosen as the captain so many years ago. No one on that team was more loyal or more determined then Derrick Andersson. Or so it seemed in my tired eyes. I smiled over at the man. He gave me a smile in return. Then I promptly fell asleep. Out like the proverbial light was I. My son calling, “Goodnight,” as he climbed the stairs roused me from my slumber. My feet were on Derrick’s lap. His hands rested on them. I blinked at him stupidly with gummy eyes.
“I fell asleep,” I said, like he didn’t know that. He nodded then began rubbing my feet. My bones turned to putty. “Who won?”
“Yah, I saw that. Damn rude of a man to keep a woman up all night long,” he said with a wink. My eyes remained on him as he lifted my right foot to kiss the bottom of my arch. Fire raced up from my foot to my core then shot out to my extremities. “Pittsburgh.”
“It’s okay. Keeping a woman up all night, that is,” I replied, and then bit down on my bottom lip. He had run his tongue over the top of my foot. “Good for Pittsburgh. Mmm, God that is arousing,” I whispered as he nipped at my anklebone. His beard hair tickled slightly. My breasts grew heavy, my vaginal muscles tightened. His tongue was hot, moist, tantalizing as it lapped over and between my toes. I began to wiggle in need. Trevor was still fiddling around upstairs. Derrick’s fingers slid up my leg, lifting it higher so he could taste more. His mouth roamed over my calf. He shifted on the sofa, turning his big body to face me. My fingers were now deeply embedded in the somewhat flattened cushions. I saw over the top of my calf that his jade eyes were heavy-lidded. His fingers began to skitter over my thigh. They would dance dangerously close to my crotch, then slither back down to my knee. He never stopped tasting the leg. With a word of sensual encouragement, he straightened my leg. I pointed my toes to the ceiling. His rough fingertips slid into my shorts. I threw my head back as I clamped my mouth tightly shut.
“So wet,” he said in voice deepened with lust. His finger slid under my damp panties. They moved between my slippery petals. He rested my leg on his wide shoulder. There I lay, with his hand in my pants as my son bounced around above us to music that sounded like an acid-laced funeral dirge. “You want me to stop?” he asked when I groaned.
“Don’t you dare!” I panted then let my other leg drop to the side to give him more access. He smiled as two thick fingers entered me. My backside bucked off the couch. I flung my head to the side to bury my face in the cushions. His fingers went deep inside me, rubbing, stretching, and abrading deliciously. My back bowed off the couch. I cupped my right breast, found the aching nipple, and then pinched it through my shirt. Derrick made a sound of distress.
He began working those long fingers of his in and out of me faster. I was one strong plunge from coming when he extracted his fingers slowly. I grabbed his wrist. My fingers were not even close to spanning it. The TV was still playing. My son was still jamming. I was quivering on the cusp of a lovely orgasm. Derrick moved quickly. My shorts were tugged down, my panties were removed, and I was hoisted up to sit on his lap. I grabbed his head, and then plunged my tongue into his mouth. He grunted. I heard the quick zip of his fly. We both hurried to extract a condom from his wallet. I got the pleasant task of rolling it down over him. Once we were safe I threw a leg back over his thighs then gyrated my hips until I found the round head of his prick. I inhaled shakily then sat down on him.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, romance tales of any genre, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a steer named after a famous N.H.L. goalie, a pig named after a famous President, and a flock of assorted domestic fowl.
When not writing lusty tales, she can be found enjoying her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.
FIND V. L. LOCEY ONLINE AT:
Secret Cravings Backlist Books:
Pink Pucks & Power Plays (Book One of the To Love a Wildcat Series)
A Most Unlikely Countess (Book Two of the To Love a Wildcat Series)