Chapter 87 A Really Hot Pirate
a really hot pirate
Billie
The Crush are losing, down by two points.
Sitting on the couch next to me, Calum’s pitched forward, elbows on his knees, a grimace on his face as the backup goalie, Castellano, lets in a third goal of the game.
“Get out of your head,” he mumbles at the television.
“Is that the guy you said was such a dick to you in the first weeks here—the one who gave you the black eye?”
“Yup, the very one.”
“Well, he’s probably jumping for joy that you got hurt.”
He shrugs. “Maybe, but he’s certainly not playing like his position depends on it. He really sucks.”
“He probably did some bad mojo to get you hurt. This is karma paying him back for it.”
Calum laughs lightly and shakes his head. “Not karma. He’s just that bad, Billie. Really, that bad.”
“You don’t think he was like praying to the hockey gods to get a shot this season?”
“Sure, but whatever. He’s messing it up. I can’t wait to get back out there.”
“All I want for Christmas is to put this jackhole to shame,” I sing.
“Pretty much.”
We watch the rest of the game, Calum making the odd comment about his teammates’ play and decision-making throughout.
Somehow the Crush manage to pick up two goals, thanks to Boris and left-wing Mikhail.
The back line rallies around Castellano, taking the pressure off to avoid more goals from the opposition.
When the game is done, he gets up and stretches, revealing his ripped abs and making my mouth go a little dry.
He’s still on injured reserve, so technically, he hasn’t been cleared for any strenuous activity.
He’s been doing some light workouts with the team trainers and physical therapists, but I’m certain sex (our sex, at least) might be too strenuous by medical standards.
As if reading my thoughts, he smirks. “What are you thinking about over there?”
“Um…just admiring my view is all.”
He grins. “That’s what I thought.”
“Actually,” I say, steeling myself for the conversation I was holding off for as long as possible, “I was thinking about when you were in the hospital.”
“Oh really? That’s what your face looks like when you’re thinking about someone in the hospital?” He chuckles and walks into the kitchen. “You want anything?”
“No, thanks.”
He comes back in with a glass of water and sits next to me, the length of our thighs touching. “So, you were saying?”
“I was thinking about some things you said while you were under the influence of some very powerful pain medication.” Looking sideways at him, I can’t help from biting my lip.
He uses his fingertips to turn my head so he can see me fully. He still has his right eye covered with an eye patch. “You look like a pirate,” I say, trying to distract him from my comment about what he said in the hospital. I should’ve kept my big mouth—
“So I’ve heard. Hopefully not for much longer.”
“A really hot pirate though.” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“I doubt my pirate styling is related to what I said while drugged in the hospital with a gruesome injury.”
“It wasn’t that gruesome,” I scold. “Don’t be a baby.”
“You are a terrible caregiver.” A measured pause. “A really hot terrible caregiver though.”
“Whoa, boy, you got jokes now?” I don’t know if he’s even aware he did it, so I want him to know that I noticed. So freaking adorable I can barely contain myself.
“I did, didn’t I?” He cracks the merest smile and cocks his head to the side but then right back to a demanding pause. “But now I must know what I said to you in the hospital.”
“You said you thought this might be what love feels like,” I blurt, slapping my hand over my mouth with a nervous giggle. “Of course, you also said you wanted a cat and a dog and that you had feelings.”
He laughs lightly. “That’s a lot to unpack. Where shall we start?”
“Um.” The ability to form sentences lost…apparently.
“Okay, I’ll go. I do kind of remember something like that, now you mention it.”
“You do?”
“Mmm.”
We sit awkwardly as Calum takes another sip of his water before setting his cup on the coffee table. When I get his attention again, he’s serious, his blue eyes studying me intently.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” I say softly.
“No, no, it’s fine. I just…I want to get this right.” He takes a breath and blows it out in a rush. “I said I wondered if this was what love felt like?”
“Mm-hmm. Did you—did you not love Emily?” I’ve wanted to ask that for the longest time. It feels good to get it out, but my heart’s about to beat out of my chest as I await his response.
“I know I cared about her, but I think it was more that I loved the idea of her, plus the steadiness of having someone. But if I’m honest, it was only ever lukewarm.”
“Lukewarm?” I’m quiet for a moment, but then I gather my courage to ask him the next question. “Do you feel like we’re lukewarm?”
“No.” Zero hesitation, and I can’t miss how his eyes are a little darker blue than they were a moment ago.
He shakes his head sharply. “No way. I feel like…I’d want to kill anyone who dared to try to hurt you.
And I want to rip your clothes off every time I’m with you—not just to fuck but to make love to you, and make you feel good.
” He takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips.
“Billie, you make me feel everything that’s the opposite of lukewarm. ”
I swallow back a wide grin. “Well, I think very similarly about you.”
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
“My name.”
“Calum.”
He growls and leans in for a searing kiss. It takes my breath away and makes my toes curl into the carpet.
“I’m pretty sure sex is on the strenuous activity list.”
“Fuck that list,” he says against my mouth, pushing me back, positioning himself between my legs as he kisses my ear and neck and jaw.
“Do you want to make a go of this? Like, for real?”
“Be my real girlfriend you mean?” He pulls back to look at me, searching my face for answers maybe.
I chew on my bottom lip, suddenly shy. “Well yeah, but I meant more like maybe—”
“Do you think this might be love, too, Billie?”
Yes. That’s my immediate answer. And it completely solidifies what I knew was missing with Stuart. I could never feel for Stuart as much as I feel for Calum, even after such a short time. This feels so…right.
“I might very much think that, yes.”
“Well, then, I think we should. Make a go of it. Make sure it’s what we both want, yeah?”
He kisses me again, this time gently, slowly, savoring.
We go slowly, touching each other over the top of our clothes before stripping to our underwear, Calum looking delicious in his black boxer briefs.
I thank the heavens I wore my cute pink lace bra and thong today as I watch how he takes in the sight of me, my body, the way my nipples peak against the lace, the way I’m wet between my legs against the satin of my thong.
“You are so beautiful.” Not the first time he’s told me, and I hope not the last. “When I look at you, I can’t believe how I feel about you, about this. About how much I want you. More and more each time we’re together, if that’s possible.”
“Touch me?”
He touches me, but only momentarily, before scooting down to kiss me from outside of my panties.
It drives me crazy. I want his mouth all over me, but he teases, pushing the panties aside, dipping a finger inside, pulling it out.
He licks at my clit then stops. I groan and writhe and beg, but he takes his time, driving me so, so close to the edge.
When he finally slips my panties down my legs, he spreads them wide, his big hands dominant and demanding.
Off-the-charts hot. Then he buries his face against my sex along with long fingers, lapping and sucking, fingering, and biting.
It’s so good. So good. I cry out as I come, his name tumbling from my lips over and over and over.
Stopping only to ditch his boxers so he can be inside me, he aligns his cock to my center.
Hard, hot flesh searches deep and fills me.
Breathless as my body accepts the full length of him, I can only feel claimed and possessed and taken in the very best way.
He looks into my eyes, trailing kisses over my mouth and neck and throat.
He licks and kisses his way along my skin, laced with gentle nips of teeth.
Moving our bodies together in a way where every thrust and retreat and caress is purposeful, no touch is wasted.
My breasts jut shamelessly as I arch into him, meeting each deep stroke he gives to me. The friction against his sculpted chest is almost enough to get me off again, not that I need any help. I build again, saying his name, inviting him to come with me.
“Fuuuck, Billie,” he shouts before I see his face tighten, his neck muscles cording as he starts to come, my name a steady repeat from his lips.
When he collapses, I wrap my arms around him, holding him, stroking back and forth across his back, listening to him breathe, and feeling his heart pound wildly against mine.
This feels so good. So right.
It feels like love.
I’ll leave the hard conversation that’s coming for another time.