Chapter 34 Misty
MISTY
Austen’s smug face appears on the jumbotron as he scores a goal on the demoralized Mammoths.
The camera switches to Brielle, who is making a heart shape with her hands, sticking her chest out, and blowing kisses to Austen.
If we weren’t watching Austen—my cheating ex whom I made excuse after excuse for, a man who not only never loved me but was continuously using me—this might actually be a fun date with Talbot.
He’s got a beer in his hand, and he’s yelling at the Mammoths. “Why is number 29 sending it back to the D? Come on, what the hell?”
“The defense collapsed because their goalie is so out of it. Look at how far in his crease he is. He’s scared shitless to be out there,” I point.
Austen hated it when I’d try to talk hockey with him. Talbot? He acts like it’s perfectly natural. There are no snide comments about how “You sure know a lot about hockey” or “I didn’t know girls liked hockey.”
“Yes, you’re fucking right. You’re exactly fucking right.” He grabs my arm briefly, shaking me. “Oh, there he goes, there he goes. Goal!” He throws up his hands.
“If their coach wasn’t already in jail for being part of that illegal gambling operation, I’d say they need to fire him.”
Boston wins the face-off.
Austen trips one of the Mammoths players. The ref doesn’t call it, and he powers down the ice.
“I don’t know what kinds of fire the coaches lit under him to get him to start playing.”
“They probably threatened to take that unearned captain’s badge away.” I glower at the ice. I’ve been drinking all third period, trying to wash away the bitter humiliation.
Talbot had seen it immediately. Sienna had been hinting at it for years, that Austen didn’t treat me right. Granny Keagan blatantly hated him.
But I thought that was what I deserved, that Austen was the best I could do. I thought that because I was too tall, too stocky, too weird, that I should just be grateful for whatever crumbs a star NHL player would toss my way.
Talbot has treated me better in the last couple of weeks than Austen did the decade-plus I knew him.
Maybe hiring a hitman was, in fact, my subconscious way of finally getting fed up with being treated like crap by the people who were supposed to love me.
If a cold-blooded hitman is more kind and caring to you than your own family, maybe a girl needs to rethink the company she keeps and clean house.
The Harbor Hawks win the game with a final tiebreaker goal scored by Mason. My brother jumps around on the ice as his teammates cheer.
All except Austen. He doesn’t look happy.
Fuck him. I am not responsible for his emotions.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the crying session in the hallway, but I feel like I’m finally free of Austen, that I’m finally, for the first time since I was eleven, going to move past him. I’ve outgrown him.
I have a real man in my life now.
Talbot keeps his arm around me as we sip our drinks and watch one of the older players who’s just gotten his five hundredth point honored on the ice. The WAGs all pose for photos then crowd around as one of the social media people livestreams them all, congratulating their husbands and boyfriends.
“Austen really did show,” Brielle simpers at the camera, “why he’s the captain of the Boston Harbor Hawks. He’s a real leader, and he looks good scoring.”
There are cheers and screams from the WAGs as the players, freshly showered and in their suits, stream into the owner’s suite. Their girls all greet them like they’re coming home from war.
Austen receives accolades and handshakes then a kiss from Brielle. His eyes lock with mine, and I instinctively react by grabbing the collar of Talbot’s shirt, yanking him down, and spilling his beer so I can kiss him.
He grunts in surprise then leans into it.
Austen stalks over, asks the bartender for a drink, then turns like he didn’t know I was there.
“I didn’t realize you were coming to the game,” he addresses my fake boyfriend who, five drinks in, is feeling more real by the minute.
“Perks of dating Misty.” Talbot smirks at him, his hand slipping down to my waist. “And I won’t be taking any—” He kisses me slowly. “Of those perks for granted.”
Austen’s nostrils flare. “So, you don’t actually care about her. You are just using her,” Austen snaps. “I told you, Misty. I told your parents too.”
Talbot’s hand that’s draped around my shoulder slides under my sweater to cup my breast.
Austen glares at it then back up to meet my eyes, furious.
“So, you’re just a slut then, Misty, just letting a man use you?”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” Talbot drawls. “I’m not using her. She’s using me.”
“This is why everyone is so disappointed in you,” Austen sneers at me.
One of the PR people calls to him. He turns, a smile appearing back on his face as he greets the cameras.
“Austen’s disappointed that he can’t get the perks he’s used to from Ryan,” Talbot says smugly.
“He’ll still get them. That’s probably why he moved up the wedding date with Brielle.”
Talbot shrugs a shoulder. “Ryan West is one of the patron saints of hockey. I don’t think he was happy when Austen left you at the altar.”
“He didn’t say anything.” I stare at my toes, thinking back to a year ago.
“He’s too tactical,” Talbot muses, “but trust me, he’s not happy. Austen’s realized he miscalculated, and I’ve moved in as the new favorite potential son-in-law.”
“We’re not getting married.”
“We’re not? Why not?”
I can’t stop my drunken giggle. “Because that would be—I mean, that’s crazy, right?” I stare up at his silver eyes.
It makes Austen shoot another angry glance over his shoulder. “He’s so fucking jealous.” He kisses me. “You ready for payback, Gumdrop?”
“You’re not going to drop the jumbotron on him or something?”
“As much as he deserves to get squashed like a bug, what I really want to do is fuck you in his locker room.”
He takes my hand, and we slip away in the crowd. We merge with the people streaming out of the stadium, most wearing Harbor Hawks jerseys and singing the fight song.
“We can’t just walk into the locker room.”
“No?” Talbot says, swiping a card. The card reader beeps.
“Where’d you get that?”
“Our good friend and neighbor Austen Langley.”
We hurry down the back staircase.
I’m drunk enough and angry enough to think this is a good idea.
Of course, Talbot can’t really be serious. There are still going to be people in the locker room—the cleaning staff, equipment staff, someone.
But the locker room is clean and empty.
“We aren’t supposed to be here.” My words are hushed. The locker room is sacred ground. WAGs not allowed.
The navy-blue carpet silences our footfalls. The locker room is dimly lit by nothing but the backlight from the Harbor Hawks logo on the ceiling. The players’ lockers with the bench seats are arranged in an oval around another logo on the floor. Accent lights on the lockers streak the wood in blue.
“That’s the point, Gumdrop. You need to have more sex in public places.”
“We’re going to get caught.”
“I hope it’s by Austen. I want him to watch as I cum up your ass.”
“Wait, we’re doing that? I thought—” I struggle against him as he plants hot kisses down my throat.
He rips off the jersey I’m wearing.
I’m standing there in front of him in my bra and my skirt.
“I know you want me.” He tears off his own jersey then the black shirt underneath.
In the dim light from the logo above us, Talbot is bathed in pale blue, looking like an ice warrior come to life with tattoos rippling over muscle as he stalks me, backing me up until my hip bangs into the side of the captain’s berth.
AUSTEN LANGLEY—the name glows above me.
“Show me.” He nips my neck.
My bra ends up on the floor, then his mouth is hot on my tits, sucking a nipple, biting it, his teeth pulling it as his hands carve desire into my skin.
“What?” The round room with the identical lockers plus all the liquor I’ve downed makes me feel like I’m in a carnival ride. “Show you what?”
“Show me how much you want me.” He steps back. “I want to watch you.”
I lick my lips.
Talbot’s gray eyes look like they’re glowing blue in the light.
I sit back on the bench. Austen’s number is blazed above me. What am I doing? The small rational part of me that hasn’t been drowned in alcohol screams.
I ignore it.
I arch my back as I slide off the skirt.
My pussy gushes at his sharp intake of breath.
I’m pretty sure he’s rock-hard under those ripped black jeans.
Breathing hard from the desire and the anxiety and the thrill of potentially being caught, I slide off my panties.
Talbot’s eyes are locked on me. Legs spread, I stroke my pussy, arching into my hand.
My fingers come up to draw circles on my tits, pinching the nipples, tugging them as he watches.
His zipper rasps. He slowly palms his cock as my fingers work in my pussy, play with my clit, stroke the hot, swollen slit, then slide down to dip into my opening.
The juices drip onto the vinyl seat of Austen’s bench.
“Fuck yeah.” In two steps, he’s kneeling in front of me.
I moan as his tongue licks a slow stripe down my slit.
I grip the wood sides of the locker, my legs up on the bench seat as he licks me, his tongue plowing my opening then up and swirling around my clit.
My head tips back as I pant and mewl and beg as he licks me.
Above me, Austen’s name burns menacingly.
Fuck you, I silently whisper, then I’m coming. I grab at Talbot’s black hair with its blue highlights, my hips rocking into his mouth.
“That was cathartic,” I tell him when I can finally breathe.
I taste myself on him when he kisses me. He slaps the side of my hip.
“Bend over.”
“What?” The post-orgasm clarity is hitting me. “Talbot, we should leave. We’re going to get caught.”
“Fine.” He picks up the jerseys. Talbot turns like he’s about to leave. “Suit yourself.”
“Wait, you can’t—give it back,” I whimper. “You can’t leave me here like this.”
“Why not? It seems like you only fall for the bad boys, the ones who disrespect you.”
“You’re not a bad boy. You’re a horrible man.”