8. Jake
Chapter eight
Jake
I don’t know why I goaded her on like that last night. It probably was the combination of my sexual frustration and feeling out of control with so many people thinking they can just come and go from my own house without my thumbs up beforehand. I woke up this morning to a pretty redhead in my kitchen cooking me a specially ordered nutritious breakfast that Jones arranged. Apparently, she’ll be meal prepping each morning for me and I am to only eat the food she makes.
My calories, carbs, and protein are apparently in her hands now, not mine. I’m sitting in my TV room, empty plate beside me, waiting for my coffee order to be delivered. I typically make my own coffee but after the hell of a day I had yesterday, I deserve to order one in from my favorite coffee shop.
My phone lights up and I grin. I answer the call that’s coming in.
“Gator. Bro. When are you coming over to set me free from this lockdown thing that Coach put on me?” I groan dramatically.
He chuckles. “I thought you’d be either on cloud nine with that pretty PT living with you, or moping around if she refused to give you any PT sessions that involved your cock, not your shoulder.” He laughs.
I grimace and change the subject. “How’s practice? You guys should just be wrapping up the first one of the day.” I sigh. “I think it’s dumb that I’m not supposed to go watch. I hate sitting here like this. Hockey is my life.”
“Well, the good news is that practice is over and we don’t hit the ice again until after lunch. So that means that I just might have enough time to come visit your sorry ass and then you’ll totally owe me one.”
I perk up. Finally, a guest I actually want to see. “Really? Sweet!”
“Yeah. I’m just pulling up to your place. Damn. There’s like three cars parked out front. How many people did Coach set you up with?”
“Too many. I’m hiding in my media room. I’m coming on up to let you in,” I say and end the call.
I’m actually surprised that Allie hasn’t come searching for me yet, ready to poke into my back and try to go on pretending that sex between us meant nothing to her. I can’t trust her, though. Coach made it crystal clear he knows something is up between Allie and me. She had to have told him.
I hop up and wince as I forget to baby my bad shoulder. Moments like this make me feel old. I feel a surge of panic course through me—what if I don’t recover? What if I’m in chronic pain my whole life?
I don’t see the lithe form of Allie just coming in to my media room. We collide, chest to chest. Her breasts are soft as they press against me. Instinctively, my arms wrap around her slender waist. She jerks her head up to look at me, bringing our lips together. I’m leaning down, torn between asking her if she’s okay and lecturing her on watching where she’s going.
But the feel of her lips brushing against mine in such a random but sizzling way makes me forget my doubts about her, and my panic at my own loss of control in life. I tighten my grip on her waist and pull her in to me. The kiss is quick and the attraction I feel for her soars higher than it should.
I need a release. My cock is pushing against my pants and is as hard as it would have been if she’d been doing a striptease in front of me. How does this woman turn me on without any effort at all—it’s so organic and effortless. I’ve never felt this way before.
“It wasn’t me,” she gasps out as we break the kiss. “I didn’t tell anyone about us.”
Her words jerk me back to the present moment. That’s right. I’m supposed to be mad at her. I’m supposed to not trust her. I take a step back.
“Then how does he know?” I challenge her.
“You?” she says accusingly, but there’s a glint of teasing in her blue eyes. “Are there cameras in the PT room…? I don’t know!”
Oh shit. The cameras from the hallways—maybe they showed us not being on that PT table by the PT room’s door. We stare at each other, both tense with sexual need. I can feel hers roll off of her and connect with mine, making me even more horny.
And then she’s up in my arms, legs around my waist, and I’m closing and locking the door to my media room. Gator will have to wait. Right now, all I can think about is how good it feels to have Allie in my arms and to feel her tongue teasing mine as we deepen the kiss.
I place Allie on the floor, and her small hand slips into my joggers. She grasps my cock and gives me a squeeze, stroking me slowly. Then she takes my hand and places it over her pants on her pussy. Every muscle in my body relaxes as I undo her jeans and push them down with her thong. Her pussy is wet and ready for me.
I kiss her again, murmuring against her lips, “You feel so good.”
“This is wrong,” she murmurs back, biting my lip.
I spank her for her words. “No. It’s only wrong if we say it is.” I push her just enough to encourage her to lay down on my couch.
She pulls her shirt up and squeezes her own nipples with her hands, arching her back and telling me to hurry. I wonder what it would be like to have sex with her without hurrying, without wondering if we’ll get caught. I let my mind imagine how good it would feel slowly relishing her body inch by inch.
My cock throbs as pre-cum trickles out. I lose my pants and my shirt, standing naked before her. She moans as she looks at me, holding out a hand for me. I kiss my way up her leg, pausing at her pussy to enjoy the wetness of her before finally kissing up to her breasts and then her mouth.
She grabs my cock and puts it at her entrance, locking eyes with me, a desperate longing in their depths. She is so hot when she’s undone like this, taking what she wants and giving what she thinks I need in return.
I push my cock into her inch by inch, slower than last time. I close my eyes to feel her walls squeeze around me. I feel her heels press on my back, telling me to go in deeper while her hands are up around my neck. I avoid having sex missionary style—it’s too intimate, too close… the potential to bond with my partner is too strong for me in this position.
I can feel my energy connect to Allie’s. Her energy feels light and pure. Mine feels red and angry. And I am angry. I’m an athlete about to lose it all because of an injury. I can feel my own angst come out as I thrust into her like I can’t live without my fast approaching orgasm.
I feel throbbing in my shoulder from the push up position I keep myself in. I should just collapse onto her, nuzzling her neck with my face and allowing our chests to merge into one being moving together as if we are the same person.
I feel my arm start to shake as pain radiates up my shoulder. Finally, I give in. I relax down onto her and she shudders as her orgasm consumes her. My thrusts are urgent and strong, my arousal overpowering my pain.
With a deep, guttural sound muttered against her soft skin, I release into her. I feel my confusion and anger leaving my body with my orgasm. It leaves me winded as I roll off of her and cuddle her on the couch. Without my anger and without my confusion about the future, all that’s left is the dirtiest word in the world for me: fear.
I clutch Allie to me, her rear end backing up to my crotch and fitting against my body so perfectly. I can feel my breathing still panting as my thoughts spiral up and out of control. This is the panic I feel whenever I let myself really think about my injury. I spend every second of every day running from this, running from the unknowns of the future.
“Jake?” Allie says, her voice calm like the professional she is.
I don’t know when it happened, but she’s turned to face me—her nose brushing against mine. I try to focus on her. I try not to focus on how much my shoulder hurts right now.
“Eyes on me,” she says soothingly. “You’re okay. I’m here. You’re okay.”
She places a hand on my chest and together we breathe. It takes less than a minute for me to calm down. My mind snaps back into focus and I realize we’ve been in this room for far too long. Coach will come banging on the door at any minute, I’m sure. I reach for my phone only to remember it’s on the floor with my pants.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Jones and that new chef are with Gator. I saw them chatting in the kitchen on my way here. And I’m pretty sure that Coach is still at the arena. He left early this morning.”
I visibly relax. Coach isn’t here. He’s at the arena.
“He’s gotten into my head, Allie,” I grumble out, sitting up. She gets up and grabs her clothes, slipping them on with lightning speed. “I feel like he thinks I’m some old has been now with this injury—him and Jones.”
She shakes her head. “No, please don’t think that. He has his eye on me. He doesn’t trust me with you. And if anyone’s job is at risk, it’s certainly not yours.”
I have just pulled my pants on and checked my phone—nothing from Gator. Allie must be right. He’s busy with that redhead chef. Why am I paranoid?
I shake my head to clear it. “I think isolation was a bad idea,” I admit to her.
She takes my arms in her hands. “No. This is just the reality check that you need. I’m here. Coach and Jones are here. You aren’t alone. But you can’t keep running from your problems,” she pauses, then adds in a quiet tone, “from your fears. Okay?”
I reach out and cup her cheek. “Tell me exactly what I need to do to get back on the ice for good. I want to play, Allie. I don’t want to get kicked off the team or benched.”
“I know. And that’s why all of us are here with you this week. Trust the process.”
She walks to the door and gives me a cheeky smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I guess we found out one more thing you can’t do for the next four and a half days.” She looks pointedly at where we just had sex, and I try to grin.
“Oh, trust me, there are lots of other ways to do that without hurting my shoulder.”
A shadow crosses her pretty face. “Yeah. I’m sure all the girls on that dating app know all about your favorite sex positions.”
With that, she opens the door and walks out, leaving me with a surprisingly guilty conscience. So what if I’m on a dating app? It’s not like Allie and I are exclusive—we’re just sneaking around having sex. It’s casual. Right?