Clean Sweep Book #1 of the Venom Series
by V.L. Locey
4 Flames M/F Erotic Hockey Romance
Fiery, flame-haired Jane Bratkowski is catapulted from a small college town to Philadelphia to become head coach of a new women’s hockey team, The Venom. It’s a life-changing opportunity, a dream come true until – in a cruel twist of fate that could turn into a nightmare – she comes face to face with her ex-husband Tore Ahlberg, the Wildcats' head of European Scouting.
Suddenly, Jane’s faced with more challenges than she bargained for: Will she let him distract her -- and derail her big chance to coach pro hockey? Can she build a team of relatively inexperienced, irrepressible young women into champions? Can she and Tore triumph over the gut-wrenching tragedy that ripped them apart -- or will the shocking truth of their passionate past threaten to destroy them once again?
"Morning, Jane." Tore looked much better than he had last night. He was dry for one thing. Nicely shaved, showered, and nattily dressed. In addition, he seemed to have recovered from the shock of seeing his ex-wife. "I see your hair still makes you look like Storsjöodjuret when you wake up."
Shit balls. My hair. I wrinkled my nose at his reference to some Swedish lake monster he used to compare my tresses to. How he came up with such a thing, I have no idea. Unless this monster had Brillo Pad red hair, it never made any sense to me why he called me that. At one time, I must have found it cute. Confusing? Yes, but mostly endearing. This morning I found it less than amusing.
"I wouldn`t go casting lake monsters if I were you. You're not looking too great yourself." I lied. He looked superb. The years had been kind to him, giving him lovely laugh lines that added to his sex appeal. "Your tie is ugly. I need to get dressed and—"
"And make your hair drop to its knees in subjugation," he murmured by rote as he inspected his dark blue tie. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him how, or why, he remembered so much from our years of wedded bliss. Instead, I marched into the bathroom, Pomeranians in hand, then shut the door on him, his tie, and those damned recollections of a time best left in the past.
I washed my face then set to work on detangling. I accomplished this with snarling expletives aimed at long dead ancestors. The boys were restless. I laid down my hairbrush then snuck over to the door. I couldn`t hear my ex on the other side. I cracked the door just enough to peer through. Tore was standing at the sliding glass door. He still cut a fine figure from the back even though he was now in his early fifties. Wide shoulders, lean waist, long legs. The sun made his straw-colored blonde hair look like spun gold. It was time to stop, Jane. I had thought to ask him to walk the dogs but after that Rumpelstiltskin moment, perhaps a brisk walk would do me good. I closed the door quietly. Ten minutes later I stepped out, face freshly scrubbed, hair beaten into submission, and dogs in dire need.
"I have to get dressed," I told Tore when he turned from the city to look at me.
"You want me to leave?" I nodded. "We were married, Jane. Unless you have done some alterations, there is nothing I have not seen before."
I felt a slight flush rushing up behind the freckles on my cheeks. "There have been no alterations. Go wait on the patio. I mean it, Tore. Don`t give me that stupid look. Go."
"Stupid look? I have a stupid look?" he asked, a definite twinkle in his eye. A sharp comment was resting on my tongue. I swallowed it back to be nice. It was only seven am. Even ex-husbands deserve a small kindness from time to time.
"Either you step outside now or I hand the boys to you and you can walk them. Pick an option, Tore, but make it fast. Tiny bladders can only be held so long."
I held the dogs out to the man. They both growled. He threw a look at the twins then went outside. Smart man. I placed the boys on the bed then hurried over to draw the drapes shut with a slap. I should leave his tall ass out there. Maybe that would dispel his usual laid-back attitude about things. Fire and ice, that captured us well. I slipped into the same clothes I had worn yesterday. I know, it is a shitty way to arrive at work your first day, but I hadn`t packed for the trip. Sometimes I get ahead of myself. When I opened the slider, Tore rushed back in, gave me a long perusal but kept his lips firmly sealed.
"I know. I`ll buy something on the way to the Houseman and change." I spun from him, snapped the dogs onto their leashes then headed to the door. Tore hustled past to open the door for me. I gave him one distrustful look as I passed. He merely smiled genially.
"We're not going to the Houseman. The Wildcats have a morning skate so we have to go to the Trenton stadium to get our first look at the new team," he explained as we jogged to the elevator. Rupert and Roscoe were pulling like huskies. We stopped to wait at the elevator.
"Does she do things like this often?" I inquired as I watched the numbers above the door slowly climbing.
"The boss? Well, I'm not real sure." I quit watching numbers to give my ex a puzzled look. "Colton left her the team and all his business assets when he died. So far she seems to be kind of prone to snapping decisions."
"Yeah, snap decisions. You knew what I meant. Why do you always have to correct me?"
"Sorry." I meant it. I was. It was a thing that I did that drove him nuts. His English was quite good, as were the several other languages he spoke. Don`t equate hockey player with dumb jock for either sex. And please, do not assume that all of us vagina owners who play ice hockey secretly wish to own penises. I like to think with the head on my shoulders. "Old habits and all," I offered as a form as apology. I even threw in a shoulder shrug. Thankfully, the bell sounded for our floor.
A draft crept over my bare toes as they peeked out from under my nightgown. Yeah. I know. Jane Bratkowski was wearing a nightgown. The inner dimensions of hell were about to freeze over.
It wasn`t just an old flannel thing with worn elbows and spaghetti sauce stains, it was a nice one. Dark blue with no sleeves, an obscene amount of silky material that billowed out widely when I spun around, not that I make a habit of spinning, and a lacy top that allowed the dark pink of my nipples to show plainly. I was fucking freezing. I was also wondering just what sort of drunken asshole had I been to pack something like this. I looked over at the foot of that big soft bed. The matching robe, also silken and seductive, lay in wait. I blew a wild strand of red from my face. My hand shook. Truthfully, my whole body was shaking. It about killed me to admit that I was scared but I was. I was quaking like a politician strapped to a lie detector. What would he do if I proceeded as I was planning to? Tore and I had always been open about our desires. If either of us wanted the other, all it would take was either a glance or a touch, along with a softly worded entreaty. Wham-Bam! We'd be in bed in short order. That had been then. Now? Maybe he would laugh at me trying to come onto him. Shit, maybe he would tell me to go jump in the lake. Maybe I would end up crying myself to sleep as I had for so many months after he had left me. Correction. After I had pushed him away. Let`s call it like it was, Ginger Snap.
"For the love of fuck, Jane." With that I stalked over to the bed, grabbed the slippery soft robe, stuck my freckled arms into it, then stomped down the corridor to Tore`s room. Chin high, Bratkowski look of supreme confidence plastered on, I knocked three times then entered. Tore was reading in bed, his back resting on the headboard, his glasses on the end of his nose, his lean body covered in sexy black pajamas. His feet were bare. I smiled at the sight of his long toes then my sight moved back over him. Slowly my gaze roamed, enjoying the sight of him in bed holding what I assumed would be a book about the rise and fall of some foreign land. The glasses added to his appeal.
"I thought those three knocks were supposed to be on the ceiling," he said, his open book resting on his thighs.
"I couldn`t reach the ceiling," I replied, my hand on the knob. Tore laid his book on the bed. I swallowed loudly. He pushed his glasses up his nose. My heartbeat seemed loud in my ears.
"Jane, I`m proud of you opening my door."
He always had a knack for knowing just what to say. I stepped inside then flung the door shut behind me, my gaze never leaving his face.
"I thought about making a comment about Swedish sausage," I said as my robe slithered off my arms then fluttered to the floor behind me. "But I`d hate for you to think I was crass."
Tore didn`t move a muscle as I closed the distance from door to bed. The room was similar to mine. It had walls and a floor. A ceiling as well. Windows too probably. Details about decor weren`t important. All that was important was getting my freckled backside into bed with the pale blonde man trying his best not to smile like a monkey in a banana factory.
"I already know that you're crass, Jane." He dropped his glasses to the bed stand a mere second before I hiked up all that silky blue material to mid-thigh level. His sight dropped from my face to my naked legs. The amused look he had worn disappeared. By the time I was seated on his thighs there was not a smidgeon of amusement left on his face. My knees rested on either side of his hips, yards of blue silk flowed over his legs.
"Do you know what else I am, Tore?" I asked while I worked on unbuttoning his pajama top. Some sort of heated sound of pleasure burbled from deep within his chest when my palms moved over his bared pectorals.
"Brazen. Opinionated. Forward. Outspoken. Sensual. Fiery. Very fiery." He shucked his arms out of his top then cupped my breasts. His long strong fingers wrapped around the two fleshy mounds. He squeezed roughly. I shuddered and moaned. "So fiery."
"Needy too," I whispered as he fondled my breasts. I slid forward over his erection. We both inhaled sharply at the explosion of sensation. He dipped his head. I arched my back to give him all the tit he could take. He suckled my right breast strongly, the lace covering growing wet, just as I was. I began rocking back and forth. Tore moaned around his mouthful as my hips found a nice rhythm. I loved the feel of my hair tickling my shoulder blades when my head rolled in slow, pleasurable circles. He tugged on my stiff nipple with his teeth, his hands sliding under the voluminous nightgown. There was a small interruption of dry humping when he freed his cock from his pajamas. Using his shoulders for advantage, I then impaled myself on him. He slid into me with ease.
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V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, two dogs, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and three Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending 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.
I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-
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