CHAPTER NINE
GRIFFIN
My eyes pop open before my alarm goes off. Based on the brightness breaking through the dark blinds of my bedroom, I can tell it’s early. I roll over and peek at the bedside clock.
Seven.
I don’t need to be up this early.
But I’ve been up this early almost every day for the past week because I keep having R-rated dreams about my new roommate that leave my cock begging for attention.
A deep sigh rumbles out of me as I toss the covers off and head to the bathroom for a quick piss.
When I’m back in my bed, I’m barely back between the sheets before my cock is in my hand.
I’m not opposed to a good morning jackoff session, but this week with Casey under my roof has been a special kind of commitment to self-pleasure.
As in I can’t make it through the day without tugging on my dick and imagining her on top of me.
In this morning’s dream, I’d had her bent over the armrest of my couch, sinking into her slit over and over and over again.
My eyes close again as I imagine her sexy silhouette.
How she’d look splayed out, bare assed and begging for it.
My abs are tense—I’m so fucking close already because my subconscious can’t stop imagining this.
The way I’d sweep those golden brunette tresses up and hold them at the nape of her neck. The way she’d look up at me. The way she’d chant my name after I buried my head between her legs and drew out every last drop of her orgasm.
A low, guttural moan escapes me. I can’t even stop it. My cock spasms, and soon my hand is coated with my cum. I sigh heavily—a mixture of relief and resignation—and reach for the tissues on the nightstand.
I can handle jacking off every morning for a summer. It’s a small price to pay for being a good friend and helping Casey get on her feet again.
It’s way better than the alternative, which is to blast open something between us that either ruins our friendship entirely or derails my career once and for all.
I’ve been there before, standing at the precipice of wrecking everything I worked for.
It happened my senior year of college, right before I signed with the Crushers.
I’d been so in love, so swept away, I almost let it derail my future.
I skipped optional skates to drive my girlfriend to campus.
My numbers dipped right when the scouts were watching.
And when I no-showed a tryout for her, it took Neil two weeks of phone calls to get the Crushers to look at me again.
I’m not letting my priorities slip a second time.
My heart’s not getting involved with anyone again, not to that level. Love distracts, and I’m here to focus. As long as I can jack off three times a day, I’m good.
As I’m tossing the tissue, I hear a thud from somewhere inside the house.
Probably Casey…though I hope not because then maybe she heard me beating off.
I run through the likelihood of such a thing—Casey doesn’t wake up this early normally, so why would she just happen to be awake this morning?
—then decide that even if she was awake, she probably didn’t overhear what just happened in my bedroom.
Done and settled.
I slip out of my bedroom. First thing I notice is Casey in the living room, curled up on the couch. Shit.
“Morning,” I say gruffly, my voice extra deep from sleep. I lock myself in the bathroom, staring at my reflection for a few moments.
She probably didn’t hear anything.
I’m just going to stick with that.
I go through my routine—wash my face, brush teeth, the whole nine yards—then head back to my bedroom to actually put some clothes on. I’m feeling more functional when I emerge in my workout outfit of the day—gym shorts and a black Cleveland Crushers tee.
“Sup, Casey?” I flip her ponytail as I walk by. She jolts, glancing at me quickly before burying her nose in her book again.
“Morning.”
“Whatcha reading?”
“It’s a sci-fi romance.” She lets out a giggle, but it sounds forced. I head for the coffee maker, looking back every so often over my shoulder. Is it just me or is the energy a little weird right now?
Fuck, dude, she probably heard you.
As I prep the coffee, I’m rationalizing. Jacking off is normal. She probably does it too. In fact…does she? What does she use? Would she let me help?
My cock is hard again from that train of thought so I force myself to divert my attention.
“What’s your favorite book you’ve read since you moved in?” I ask after I pour the water into the coffee maker and hit start.
She lets the book slide to her chest and her gaze drift as she thinks. “Probably The No-Show by Beth O’Leary. That was a great one. I also fell in love with a Merino sheep in a series called Farm 2 Forking. Love a good possessive farm animal.”
“Me too.” I nod as I tidy up the kitchen. “I’m pretending I know anything about books. But I don’t.”
“That’s okay. At least you try.” She smiles but doesn’t look back at me. I feel like she’s avoiding my gaze.
“Why are you up so early?”
“I passed out right after my shift last night and just naturally woke up early for some reason,” she says, half-turned toward me but without making eye contact. “What about you?”
Oh just because my cock was so hard it pulled me out of REM sleep and forced me to imagine fucking you seven different ways until I came all over my hand. “I’ve got a big day in Cleveland today.”
She nods, her gaze drifting back to her book.
“You want coffee?”
“I’d love some.” She slips a bookmark into her book and shuts it. I pull out mugs and creamer and serve up some steaming coffee. I carry her mug over and she smiles up at me, finally meeting my gaze.
She fucking heard you.
“So how was work last night?” I ask as I sit on the armchair farthest away from her. Just to prove to my cock that there will be no activity involving bending a gorgeous roommate over the couch.
She hesitates, tilting her head. “Good. Mostly. I made great tips, but I had my first aggressive customer.”
My brows draw together. I don’t like the sound of that at all. “What do you mean?”
“He came in around eight and ordered a few drinks before we realized he was probably already drunk when he got there. He got so argumentative about the stupidest shit. I’m talking like which way to put the toilet paper roll. Stuff like that.”
I sip my coffee, not liking where this is going. “Sounds like an idiot already.”
“And he just got worse from there. After a certain point, he fixated on me and Brittney. He was saying some…not very nice stuff about us.”
Now my alarm bells are fully ringing. “Like what?”
She sighs, shaking her head. “Catcalling type shit. But worse.”
There’s a violent wrench in my chest, and I’m speaking without even thinking. “Do you remember what his name was? Or what he looks like?”
She looks up at me sheepishly. “No. I could find out, but I don’t think he’ll be allowed back. The manager threw him out eventually, and then he was gone.”
I rub at the space between my eyes, trying to breathe through the protective response that craves release. I don’t want anybody talking to Casey like that, and I plan to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
“How’s their security?” I ask before taking another sip.
“It’s just the manager. According to everyone else there, they don’t usually have problems like this. But it sure seems to follow me wherever I go.”
I nod, assessing the surface of my coffee. My head feels like the headquarters for a NASA space mission. I’m calculating my schedule today, Casey’s upcoming work schedule, and what I’d have to cancel to be on-site by eight every time she works for the next eight weeks.
Not that she’s asking me to do it.
But I’m not going to let anybody lay a finger or a foul word on Casey while she’s in town.
“You let me know if anybody else gives you trouble, okay?” I say this like I haven’t already decided to cancel a six o’clock dinner meeting in Cleveland just so I can be at Brews that night.
I’d planned to give her some space as she settled into the new job after crashing her shift on day one, but clearly the space method isn’t good enough.
I’m not hardwired to let someone like Casey go it alone.
“Yeah. Of course. But you…” She starts and stops a few times, trying to find her words. She finally gets out, “You don’t have to worry, I swear. The manager looks out for us. And besides…it’s Bayshore.”
She doesn’t get it. But that’s okay. I nod, sipping my coffee.
I’ll be there that evening. Happily.
My phone vibrates inside my pocket. It’s my agent, Neil.
NEIL: You ready to chat? I’ve got some news.
My stomach does a nosedive. I can think of a thousand things I don’t want to hear from Neil right now, or ever. But I need to know the truth about what awaits me this season…even if it means I’m demoted to the minor leagues.
A wave of nausea crests inside me.
“Are you okay?” Casey looks genuinely concerned, and I realize I’ve probably had a whole story of emotions crossing my face.
“Uh…I don’t know.” I force a laugh, setting down my phone. I scratch my jawline as I stare at the screen. “My agent wants to talk.”
Casey nods, as though she’s encouraging me. “You should do that, then.”
“Yeah. I just, uh…” I don’t know how to explain the situation. “I’m kind of worried I’m going to lose my job.”
“I know how that feels.”
We share a smile that borders on a grimace.
“Seriously though, you’re worried?” Casey looks incredulous as she sips her coffee again. “You’re, like, the most dedicated hockey professional I’ve ever met.”
“I might be the only hockey professional you’ve ever met,” I remind her.
She tips her head back and forth as she ponders my words. “Yeah, that’s probably right.”
“I’m not super optimistic after how long this injury has been taking to heal. There are always better and faster rookies ready to take your place in this game. This might just be my time.”
Her entire face crumbles. “They’d get rid of you just because of an injury? That’s so unfair.”
“Well, my job is to play hockey, and if I can’t do that…”