Chapter 14
Adrenaline is rushingthrough me after our win against Calgary. The first game of the season sets the tone for the rest of the year. If tonight is any indication, we are going to kick ass. I ride that high all the way to the parking lot. I told Morgan to meet me at my place after the game. She could have waited in the tunnel, but I didn’t want to overwhelm her. It can get wild down there, especially after a win.
“Nokavik, wait!” someone calls from behind me. Seconds later, Fitz and Tabby catch up to me.
“I didn’t know you”d be here tonight, Tabby. Did you sit in the suite?”
“I did. Morgan is an absolute peach,” she gushes. I smile at her assessment of my girl.
“I couldn’t agree more. Did she have fun?” Something in Tabby’s expression gives me pause.
“She mostly had a nice time,” she hesitates. “She didn’t love seeing you get smashed around, but I think she enjoyed watching you do the smashing.”
“That all?”
“There may have been an incident with Veronica and some of the other WAGs.”
Veronica is the wife of our team captain. She takes charge of the family suite and other shit like team dinners and the holiday party. She has been nice enough to me, but I’ve heard some guys grumbling about her being rude to their girlfriends.
“What happened?”
Tabby lips thin into an apologetic grimace. “I got here during the first intermission and when I went to the bathroom, a few women were there saying less than flattering things about Morgan. When I came out of my stall, she was there. The expression on her face told me she overheard them, too.
“I told her not to listen to them, and we had fun for the rest of the game, but I think it affected her more than she let on. I doubt she’ll mention it to you, but I thought you should know before seeing her later in case she seems off.”
“Thank you for telling me, Tabs.”
“Of course. I like her. I think she’s good for you.”
“She is,” I reply with a tight smile. “See you later.”
Driving to my place, I wonder what they could have been saying about my perfect girl. Her self-esteem is already fragile from dating Chet, the douche canoe, and whoever else came before him. I’ve been working hard to lift her, but every time she thanks me for basic decency, it makes me want to choke him out all over again.
When I getto my place, Morgan is waiting in her car, scrolling through her phone, oblivious to my approach. Upon closer inspection, she is scrolling through her own social media profile. I think she is looking for something specific, but the further she goes, the deeper her frown.
When I tap on her window, she jumps and clutches her chest. Opening her door, I guide her to the front of my house. It’s not a mansion like some of my teammates have, but it”s a decent size, especially for LA. I wasn’t as concerned about the size as the location. It’s in a prime spot near the stadium, but it”s secluded enough that I never see any neighbors, which is precisely how I want it.
Morgan is tense as she puts her bag on the entry bench and walks into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she surveys its contents before shutting it without grabbing anything.
“Hungry?” I ask. Her shoulders shrug in response. “Thirsty?”
“Meh.”
“Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
Her eyes snap to mine at the question. They are pooled with apprehension, which I hate. Moving toward her, I cage her against the refrigerator doors, hands on either side of her head.
“Tell me, Zlatí?ko. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is.”
She blows out a raspberry. “You don’t have to fix everything in my life. Don’t worry about it. I’m just in a mood.”
“Of course, I have to fix everything in your life, especially your moods. Your happiness matters to me. Did something happen at the game? You had fun with Tabby, yeah?”
“Tabby was great.” Her lips tip momentarily before a sad expression covers her pretty face. “It was fine. I enjoyed watching you play, though I didn’t appreciate that one guy who kept slamming you into the boards. What was his problem?”
“It’s his job, baby,” I laugh. “Don’t worry. I gave as good as I got. But I still can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong with you.”
Pulling her lip between her teeth, she averts her gaze, pondering her next words. “Are you ever worried I’m not cut out for this?”
“Cut out for what?”
“To be your girlfriend.”
“Why would you ask that?” I question, rearing back.
“I don’t know. My schedule is as crazy as yours. And you are a private guy. You stay away from the limelight as much as possible, whereas I thrive on attention. I enjoy going to places where I’ll be seen, wearing loud clothing, and going full glam for everyday errands. That’s not you. It makes me wonder if we’re suited for each other.”
“Suited,” I repeat.
“Yes, suited.” Morgan squares her shoulders as she stares into my eyes. She may be putting on a brave face, but I see the fragility behind her mask. I want—no, need—her to know she doesn’t have to have that with me, and she sure as shit doesn’t have to act or be a certain way.
“Don’t you think you’d be happier long term with someone less loud, less extra, just… less.” Her voice fades into a whisper.
Stepping fully into her space, I silence her. “I’m going to stop you right there. There is no one I could be happier with than you. I love that you enjoy dressing up and having all eyes on you. Anyone who isn’t looking at you has to be blind because you steal focus in every room you enter.
“And in regards to someone else being more ‘suited’ for me, that’s a load of shit. You are perfect for me because you are you. I don’t want quiet or demure or less. If anything, I want more. I will never get enough of you. Your light calls to me and beckons me home. You are mine. And I want you exactly as you are.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Let me prove it to you.” Without preamble, I reach down to her thighs and pull her up my body. She instinctively wraps her legs around my waist as I walk us into the living room. Once there, I settle on the couch with her straddling my hips. Reminiscent of our first hookup at Clamatis, I grind her up and down my lap.
“You are stunning. Every inch. I am going to spend all night worshiping you to prove exactly how perfect you are.”
She mewls into my mouth, and I swallow the sound. Her hands grasp my shoulder as she rocks against me, but it isn’t enough. She needs more, and I need to give her more.
I can’t help the twitch of my lips at the sound of protest she makes when I pause our movements. Placing her on her feet in front of me, I slide off the couch. She stares at me, puzzled. Her confusion momentarily abates as I pull her leggings and panties down in one go.
“Put your knees on the couch and grab the back,” I say. She moves to step beside me, but I stop her. “No, right here.”
“But then I’ll be kneeling over you.”
“That’s the idea, Zlatí?ko. I want this pretty pussy hovering over my face so I can worship it the way it deserves.”
“Ralphie,” she hesitates. Her argument halts on her lips as I grip her thighs and pull her straight into my waiting mouth. Her knees hit the edge of the couch as my lips make contact with her center.
“Lean forward,” I command.
She shivers as my breath ghosts across her, sensitive from grinding on my cock. When she obeys, I reward her by lazily licking at her clit. It only takes a few swipes for her to grip the couch tighter as her knees press harder into the cushion.
Using my hands to hold her ass, I spread her wider, gaining more access. She pushes against my touch, deliciously asking for more. Sliding down further, I thrust my tongue into her as one of my thumbs presses into her bundle of nerves.
Something switches in my brain as her legs shake around me, and I turn feral. I lick and suck and nip until she’s thrashing above me.
“Baby,” she cries, pulling against my hold while at the same time pushing into me harder. Overwhelmed with pleasure, she doesn’t know if it’s too much or not enough.
Maintaining my grip, one hand travels down to my aching cock. I clumsily pull it out of my pants and slowly stroke it to alleviate some of the mounting pressure. Having her this close to coming undone for me has me desperate to do the same. But I won’t, not yet. I told her I was going to show her how much I wanted her, and I meant it.
Pulling back from her soaked core, I peer up into her eyes. “You drive me crazy. I need you to come for me, Morgan. I need you to come grinding down on my face.”
“I want to come on your cock,” she whines.
“You will. Show me how prettily you can come on my face, and then I’ll fill this sweet pussy up with my cock. Can you do that for me?” When she doesn’t respond, I nip at her inner thigh. “Can you be a good girl and come on my face?”
Her shaky nod is the affirmation I need to dive back in. When I suck her clit, she bucks wildly, and I know she is close. Not relenting in my pressure, I flick my tongue across her until she shudders through her release.
Scooting out from under her, I leave her knees on the couch. Keyed up from the sensation of her coming on my face, I quickly shuck off my clothing, marveling at her in my team colors. Only when I spot the name on the back do I notice the material”s age.
Morgan has on a vintage sweater. I assumed she was wearing my name or a blank jersey. Seeing another name on her back has me growling. “Off!”
“What?” She turns her head to study me behind her, eyes still hazy from orgasm.
Stepping behind her, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her up. Without explanation, I grab the hem of the jersey and yank it over her head.
“I thought you would enjoy seeing me in your colors.”
“I did. I do. But no chance in hell are you coming on my cock with some other fucker’s name on your back.”
“Peterson has been retired for fifteen years.” Amusement washes across her features.
I wrap my hand around her hair and hold her against my chest. The heat of her body against mine ratcheting my need higher. My cock nestles against her lips, coating itself with her earlier release. This new angle allows me to whisper directly in her ear. “I don’t care if he’s been retired for one hundred and fifty years. When I’m inside you, the only name you’ll wear, think, scream, remember is mine.”
With that declaration, I slam inside her. We both groan at the sudden intrusion. Giving her a moment to adjust, I rip the bra she was still wearing off and palm her breasts. When she squirms against me, I know she’s ready for me to move.
One hand on her breast and the other on her hip, I slowly slide out and back in. She grips the arm that holds her to me, nails digging into my skin. The sensation makes me that much wilder, and I thrust more forcefully.
Wanting to give her all of me, I release my hold on her chest and press her toward the back of the couch, where she lays her elbows. The new angle allows her to take me deeper, and I watch in fascination as my cock disappears inside her. Her moans grow louder as I hit that spot inside her that makes me see stars.
“Fuck, I will never get over how perfect your pussy is. So tight and warm wrapped around me.” She is velvet enveloping me, and I fight every second to maintain my composure.
Morgan babbles incoherently as I slam inside her over and over. Her walls contract around me as she nears her climax. Needing her to get there before I explode, I curl a hand between her legs to toy with her clit.
“Come for me, baby. Grip me like a vise.” Her pussy tightens minutely, and I grit my teeth, thinking about anything I can to stave off my release. Roasted cabbage, the old men swimming at the YMCA, Danvers explaining to me for the fifteenth time the ‘right’ battleship strategy, none of it is helping. Doubling my efforts, I rub faster.
“You’re taking me so well. Be a good girl, and come on my cock, Morgan.” Seconds later, she does and it is my name on her lips.