Bianca Sommerland- and contest

Interview With Max Perron

Kristina smoothed her hands over her grey, knee length pencil skirt as she took a seat on the white leather chair, and glanced over at the camera crew setting up at the other side of the small studio. The bright lights blinded her, and the way the director pointed at her as he addressed the cameraman made her flush and tremble. Interviews were hard enough with just a voice recorder or a pad and pen, but in front of a camera . . . .

I'm going to pass out.

"Hey." Someone came to her side and took her hand in his as he knelt. "You just went white, sugar. You all right?"

Her eyes widened. She stopped breathing and stared into his eyes, feeling like she'd taken a trip from reality and woken up on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean. The sun caressed her cheeks and she smiled.

"Okay, that's a bit better." He chuckled and his southern accent softened his tone into something comforting and familiar. "You wanna try breathing now?"

She nodded.

He frowned and squeezed her fingers. "Now, Kristina. Deep inhale." His lips curved. "Or do you need mouth-to-mouth?"

Yes, please! Her cheeks caught fire as she pictured the cameramen watching them and she quickly shook her head, inhaling deep before she spoke. "No, thank you . . . . Mr. Perron?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Ever call me that again, missy, and I'll tan your hide."

"I'm sorry! I—"

"Kristina, I'm joking!" He patted her hand and took the seat across from her. "I want you to feel comfortable in front of the cameras—Bianca told me you weren't used to them. Shake all the nerves now, honey. Get used to calling me Max, like we're old friends. I reckon you'll be asking me some rather personal questions?"

"Yeah . . . ." Kristina glanced down at her notes and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "You sure you're okay with this?"

"I deal with the media every day." His brow furrowed and he leaned forward as the director announced they were about to start filming. "It's you I'm worried about."

For some reason his concern made the cameras and the lights and all the people watching less intimidating. She was able to focus on Max, and despite his handsome face and big, solid, sexy body . . . okay, it was rather distracting, but something in his smile helped with the old friend suggestion.

"I'm good," Kristina said.

"Good girl." Max winked, then laughed when she ducked her head.

"Ready?" The director straightened and gestured to the cameraman when Max nodded. "In 5, 4, 3, 2—"

Kristina took her cue and smiled at the camera. "Thank you for tuning in as we welcome Max Perron, the Dartmouth Cobras' leader in assists and last year's MVP, to our show. Max, may I say I really appreciate you taking the time to speak with me."

"My pleasure, Kristina." Max relaxed into his chair, arm draped over the back, and idly ran his fingers over the transparent stitching in the leather, his gaze trapping hers. "None of the other men were comfortable discussing the . . . intimate details of their personal lives. I don't have a problem with it."

"You don't?" The interview. Focus on the interview. "Uh . . . okay, well, my first question is something I don't think you've been asked recently, but if you have, please just clarify for our viewers. Why do they call you The Catalyst?"

"I make things happen." His lips twitched as she licked her bottom lip. "On the ice. I see it like a chess game, three moves ahead, and I know my teammates well enough that I'm usually right about how the play will turn out."

"Are you like that in other aspects of your life?"

"Sometimes." He drew himself forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "For example, I can tell you want to ask me some questions that have nothing to do with hockey, but you're stalling. So I'm going to ask the assistant director to get us each a glass of wine. This will help you relax and help me answer your next question."

Lips parted slightly, Kristina stared at him as he glanced over at the assistant director who brought the wine glasses over right away. The red liquid sloshed in the glass as the man quickly handed them each a glass and hurried off.

The sweetness of the wine surprised her and she took a few sips before looking up at Max. "Mmm, this is wonderful! I've never had wine that wasn't bitter."

"I thought you'd like it." Max smiled and his tongue flicked some wine from the rim of his glass. "Now ask me about my kink, sugar. Ask me as you slowly sip the wine and let it slide over your tongue and down your throat."

She couldn't quite form a question, all her senses had turned to the wine, but she managed to get some words out. "You're a voyeur."

"Yes." Max's tone took on a gently, lulling quality. "Are you enjoying the wine, Kristina?"

"Mmm." Another sip. Absolutely delicious. "Yes."

"You want to know how a voyeur can get off on just watching. Show me how much you enjoy it. Take your time and taste it and know you're sharing the experience with me with every reaction . . . ."

Her taste buds tingled as they explored the body of the wine. Her eyes fluttered shut as Max spoke.

"Your lashes are fluttering and I can tell you've turned all your senses inward. You're not just tasting the wine, you're feeling pleasure as the smoothness fills your mouth—take another sip, Kristina." His command created a throbbing down low and her thighs clenched. "The aroma is adding to the flavour. You're feeling warm and all you can think is that you want more."

Oh! She glared at the glass. It was empty.

"More would be wonderful."

He grinned. "I'll leave you the bottle. Now did that answer your question?"

"No." She realized she was practically sulking on camera and sat up straight, plastering an inquisitive smile on her face. "How in the world did you get anything out of that? I actually experienced the pleasure of drinking the wine." Her cheeks heated, she forced the next words out. "You just watched."

"No. I was able to fully observe the pleasure you received from something I gave you. While all your focus was turned inward, all my focus was on you."

"But I thought voyeurs just got off on watching sex." She slapped her hand over her mouth and almost dropped her glass. Blunt much?

Max arched a brow. "Do you know many voyeurs?"

"No." She looked around for somewhere to put her glass and smiled gratefully at the assistant director when he came and took it from her. "I just assumed . . . ."

"I'm not surprised. To tell you the truth, I don't know many voyeurs either." He shrugged. "Everyone is different. I've been this way for as long as I can remember. Even as a kid. It wasn't sexual; I just liked seeing how people reacted to things that made them happy. I always made my dad get expensive gift bags for all my friends so I could watch their faces light up when they opened them. I insisted it was part of my gift, so he would let me come along to pick out things I thought each kid would like. He thought I was just generous."

"So . . . ." She paused, pressed her lips together, and thought out her next question carefully. "Is that why you're okay with sharing the woman you love?"

"Yes. That's exactly why." He sat back and rubbed his knees with his hands. "Honestly, I would have been fine without sharing if Oriana was uncomfortable with it, but when I saw it was something she needed. And not from just anyone . . . ."

Kristina nodded. She knew a bit about the other men and couldn't imagine having to choose only one. "They had to be men you trusted with her though, right?"

"Right." His brow furrowed. "I don't want anyone to get the impression that I would be okay with handing her off to just anyone. Oriana isn't the type of person to sleep around. We had one special night where she got to enjoy the attentions of several men, but after that I could see there was more with two of them. I let things take their natural course and made sure she knew she had my full support, no matter what she decided."

"Would it have bothered you if she hadn't chosen any of them? If she wanted someone else?"

 Max went still. "That's a good question." He brought one hand up to rub the back of his neck. "I really don't know. Oriana's been hurt enough. Bringing in a man I didn't know well would have been hard. If he hurt her . . . ." His jaw clenched. Then he laughed. "Thankfully, that wasn't necessary."

The director made a cutting motion, telling them time was almost up.

Going over her notes, Kristina saw that she had one question left. "All right. We've got to wrap this up, I see you've got an away game and have a flight to catch. I just have to ask . . . ." She laid her notepad on her lap. "Does it bother you when Oriana is alone with the other men? When you don't get to watch?"

Without hesitation, Max replied, "not at all. Oriana has gotten very good at sharing all the spicy details and it heats things up when we're alone. Just the expression on her face when she remembers everything is enough to get me hard."

Oh. My. God. Kristina brought her hand to her throat and crossed her thighs. "T-thank you for being so open with us, Max. And g-good luck with your next game."

"You're very welcome, Kristina." Max reached out and took her hand. "I think Oriana will like hearing about this interview. She's got some voyeur in her too I think."

"But she won't—" Don't even go there!

Max smiled and shook his head. "No, sugar. She doesn't share."

* * *

Blurb:

The game has always cast a shadow over Oriana Delgado's life. She should hate the game. But she doesn't. The passion and the energy of the sport is part of her. But so is the urge to drop the role of the Dartmouth Cobra owner's 'good daughter' and find a less...conventional one.

Playmaker, Max Perron, never expected a woman to accept him and his twisted desires. Oriana came close, but he wasn't surprised when she walked away. A girl like her needs normal. Which he can't give her. He's too much of a team player, and not just on the ice.

But then Oriana's father goes too far in trying to control her and she decides to use exposure as blackmail. Just the implication of her spending the night with the Cobra's finest should get her father to back off.

Turns out a team player is exactly what she needs.

Warning

This ebook contains material not suitable for readers under 18. In also contains scenes
that some may find objectionable, including BDSM, ménage sex, bondage, anal sex, sex toys, double penetration, voyeurism, edge play, and hockey equipment being used inappropriately.

Excerpt:

Blood rushed to his groin. He looked down at the woman in his arms, a woman he'd willingly have waited a lifetime for, and imagined sharing her with one of his closest friends. Or both. Or several.

He groaned as Oriana's hand glided over his stomach, then down to cover his stiff erection. Without his jeans to muffle the sensation, he would have come right then. Rein it in a little, Perron.

Ice, helmets, smelly gloves, ugly guys with no teeth—there, he'd regained control of his body. He traced a finger along Oriana's hip bone, dipped under the elastic of her panties, touched her silken folds.

Which weren't as moist as he'd expected.

"You not into this, babe?" He kept his tone neutral so she wouldn't think he was upset. Not that she'd been explicit, but he'd known she and Paul had problems with sex. 'Course, he'd blamed Paul—and still did—but maybe there was more to it.

"I'm into it, I just—" Her hips wiggled, and she tried to clamp her legs shut as he lightly tapped his fingertip on her clit. "I keep wondering what you're thinking about. Just me? Or me with the men?"

A half-truth, but he'd go along with it. "Honestly?"

She nodded.

"I was thinking about you and Mason, about how beautifully submissive you were." At that her breath hitched, and she grew nice and slick around his fingertips. He dipped two fingers inside her and smiled as her eyes glazed with pleasure. "And then with Callahan—" Her hot, tight pussy squeezed his fingers. "You seemed a little scared, but there was a dark passion in your eyes."

Her lips formed silent words before she whispered. "Max . . . ."

In this perfect setting, the two of them under the moonlight, with only sleepy plants watching, they could give each other some satisfaction. But how shallow would it be? He withdrew his fingers and caught her elbow with a hand when she swayed.

"No!" She held on to him, her eyes wide. "I want you!"

"Do you now?" He cupped her breasts and grazed his thumbs in slow circles around her nipples. His gentle ministrations had her bucking her hips and moaning out loud. "Tell me who you're thinking of, love. Just me, or more?"

* * * *

"More!" Oriana gasped as he rolled the jersey up to her throat and bent down to kiss the swell of her breasts."Oh!"

Without a moment's pause, he bared her breasts and began suckling the taut flesh of one, then the other. The sensation coiled around her clit, and her insides clamped down on nothingness, aching to be filled.

"Please." She pressed against him, her hips seeking his with aimless forward thrusts. "Max, please!"

"This will be enough, darlin'." His tongue traced the edges of her areola, coming closer and closer to her nipple. He let the moisture left behind cool while he brought his lips to hers and stole her breath with a fierce kiss. His palms covered her breasts, molding them gently, leaving her nipples untouched. "I never would have asked you to be with the men. I would have done everything in my power to be the man you needed, but you want them, don't you?"

"Mmm." She threw her head back as he lightly brushed his fingertips over her nipples, and every nerve in the tiny nubs greedily absorbed the sensation. Being neglected had made them hypersensitive. She almost wanted to pull away, it was almost too much, but his words had her ready to come apart. Visions of hot hands and mouths all over her made her knees lock and her core clench convulsively.

"Tell me. Tell me exactly what you want us to do to you." He caught her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, rolling them, tugging lightly before lowering his mouth to flick each with his tongue. "Don't come until you answer me, Oriana."

"Ah!" Her eyes teared as she fought the urge to surrender to the building climax. "Everything! Anything! Just . . . just . . . ."

His tongue fluttered over the tip of her nipple, faster and faster. He sucked the nipple, playing it carefully between his teeth, then resumed the fluttering. "Very good. You may come now, sugar."

At another flick, pleasure burst from her breasts and flared out from her cunt. She cried out as the sensations came together and ignited from everywhere at once. Her knees gave out, and Max held her tight as she rode the violent orgasm until she was deliciously spent.

Supporting her with an arm around her waist, Max straightened her bra, then her jersey. Her skin tingled as the material touched her, and she whimpered, suddenly, desperately needy. She wanted to strip and beg him to take her again and again.

"Don't give me that look." He palmed her cheek and kissed her. "It's getting cold. We'll head back to my place and get you warmed up. See where your head's at."

"Where my head's at?" She blinked at him as he draped his jacket over her shoulder. "But you said—"

"A bit of mental stimulation, Oriana." He glanced down at her bare feet and shook his head, cursing under his breath. "Mason would kick my ass if he knew I had you out here like this."

"But—"

He shook his head again and she groaned. No more talking. He obviously wanted her to make her decisions with a clear head.

But exactly what would clear-headed Oriana decide?

To tell the truth, she had no idea.

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