Chapter 5
Eric
It’s game time, but I can’t focus.
Usually, I have zero problem concentrating.
Preparing to tend goal. But I’m sitting in the locker room, surrounded by the usual metal slams and dick jokes and the sound of tape ripping, but I might as well be on a different planet.
My mind is fixated on Marlow and what we did in that classroom.
The sweet shape of her tits in my hands.
Her magic mouth. The beautifully horny shit she says to me. Out loud.
Her tight grip on my cock.
That perfectly timed stroke.
My semen all over her stomach and skirt.
The way she begged for it. Had an orgasm, she loved my come so much.
A towel smacks me in the back of the head. “Wake up, Colossal. We need you focused on the game.”
“I’m…yeah. Yup. I’m there. Here, I am.”
That’s a bald-faced lie. I’m not here at all. I’m still in that classroom with Marlow, her legs spread open for me on that desk, stockings hugging her thighs. Only this time, I take her panties down and blow inside of her.
Daddy. She called me Daddy.
I’ll never function normally again.
Hell, I’m still shocked by the fact that a girl as phenomenal as Marlow wants me.
Throw in the way she obsessed over my excess of fluids and calls me that title…
I’m feeling some kind of way right now. In heat is the best way I can describe it.
Hot to breed my little brunette in stockings.
I didn’t know I was capable of this brand of need.
It feels kind of sick. Kind of twisted. This ferocious need to impregnate my teenage girlfriend, when logic and facts tell me that early parenthood can present a lot of problems.
My body doesn’t care.
My hunger just wants the job done.
“Is Marlow coming to the game tonight?” asks Garrett, while examining his stick.
“She said she’d be here,” I respond, glancing over at the captain. “But I can’t think of a single good reason for you to have my girlfriend’s name in your mouth.”
Ooooh, my teammates say in unison.
“Relax,” Garrett says, holding up his free hand. “She picked you fair and square.” He pauses, seemingly for dramatic effect. “Besides, I’m hooking up with one of her stepsisters tonight. Jessie. Hell of a consolation prize.”
“Oh shit!”
“You dog.”
“Share the wealth, Garrett.”
“I am sharing the wealth,” Garrett responds, pointing at the other side of the locker room. “Tony is going out with Suzie. The other one.”
I sit with that information for a minute, trying to decide how I feel about it.
Good, mostly. If Garrett is romancing Marlow’s sister, and Tony is dating the other one, that’s two fewer sets of eyes on Marlow.
That works really well for me. Still, my teammates hooking up with Marlow’s stepsisters gets me thinking.
About how Marlow is sneaking out to come to the game tonight.
Don’t Jessie and Suzie have to do the same thing?
“Their parents sound strict, right?” I say to Garrett.
He looks confused. “Jessie didn’t mention anything about that.”
“Really.”
I’m an artist. Illustrating has been my escape for the last several years. I have to hide them now, because once my stepmother found them and decided my brain was a playground for the devil.
Marlow words jog back through my mind, and I get an uncomfortable pinch in my chest. Mainly I’m thinking of the shadows in her eyes when she said that, as if she was only scratching the surface of an explanation. Is her home life okay? Is she okay?
Tony steps into my eyeline, helmet already on for the game. “I’m not even sure which one is Suzie, to be honest. They look too much alike. I’m just going to see which one Garrett likes and take the other.”
“Good plan,” I say dryly.
I tune out as Garrett and Tony come up with a plan for later in the evening.
Should I have worked out a plan for after the game with Marlow?
Damn it. I’m so new at this. I have no idea what I’m doing. I asked her to come to the game, but that’s where my inspiration was born and died. Will she stick around, or will she just leave and go home without seeing me? How is she getting here? Getting home?
I’m going to be a better boyfriend starting tomorrow.
My only excuse is I didn’t see her coming. Like, at all. But excuses are for losers.
I’ve got a girl to take care of now.
I’m still obsessing over this when we take the ice.
I assume my position in front of the goal and get down on all fours to stretch, but I’m searching for Marlow in the crowd.
It’s a high school arena, so it’s not huge.
Just a few sets of bleachers. Not to mention, I know everyone in attendance at the game, from my teammates’ parents to fellow students.
I should easily be able to spot her. I don’t, though.
My chest starts to tighten with all the unknowns.
Did she get caught sneaking out?
Why does she have to sneak out when she’s eighteen?
Did she already realize I’m not good enough for her?
The buzzer sounds to signal the end of warmups, and half the team leaves the ice, our opponents sizing us up, preparing for the puck drop.
I sneak one final look up into the stands and Christ—there she is.
Wearing a red turtleneck tucked into a white skirt, Marlow takes a seat in the front row of the center bleachers and blows me a kiss.
My heart squeezes up into my mouth.
I blow a kiss back at her, but it’s basically just me hitting myself in the facemask with my glove and awkwardly waving my stick.
Nonetheless, she beams back at me. In fact, she looks at nothing but me the entire game.
I don’t even think she’s watching the puck at all.
Throughout the entire first period, every time I glance over at Marlow, she’s watching me with an expression of pure bliss on her face. This can’t be my reality, can it?
It's during the second period that things take a turn for the worse.
I really should have known it was only a matter of time before some motherfucker tried to hit on her.
She’s stunning and fresh-faced and surrounded by a celestial glow of light.
Of course, some guy in a letterman jacket sits down beside her and leans too close, holding up his phone.
Probably asking for her Snapchat handle or phone number.
My stomach gurgles with acid, possessiveness spearing up into my throat like molten metal.
And it doesn’t settle at all, even when she shakes her head and ignores the guy.
Because he doesn’t go away. He persists, making a grab for her hand.
It's a good thing we’re winning and the puck is on the other side of the ice, because I proceed to have an out-of-body experience.
My helmet comes off and hits the ice with a violent crack.
I’m skating full speed at the glass in front of Marlow before I register my own actions.
I throw myself up against it with as much force as I can muster, which is a whole hell of a lot, and the resulting crash is like two buses colliding.
“MINE,” I roar, looking Letterman Jacket in the eye.
Everyone in the bleachers, including my target, jumps and screams.
Everyone but Marlow.
She doesn’t even flinch.
But her chest is rifling up and down, her mouth parted in surprise.
Regret slices into me like a knife.
Oh God, did I finally succeed in convincing her I’m scary?
No one else needs convincing, that’s for sure. I’ve cleared the entire section of bleachers, students, parents and faculty seemingly running for their lives, until all that remains is Marlow, who sits wide eyed with her hands folded in her lap.
“Colossal!” Garrett shouts, along with my team. And three coaches. “Get back in the fucking net!”
With no choice but to return to the game, I slide back into goal, just in time to block a shot. I’m silently willing the matchup to end, though, so I can apologize to Marlow for ruining her very first hockey game.