Chapter Twenty Routine
“It’s Wednesday. Do you have practice?”
Ingrid uses an old paper and pen calendar as well as the one on her phone. “I thought I shared the schedule with you. Here, mark down all the days in red. The ones in white are away. The ones in green are free days.”
I slide her my phone, and she beams at me. “What?”
“Some men don’t hand women their phones so trustingly.”
“But I trust you.” I nibble her ear and pull her closer.
Tonight marks two weeks since my accident, and a week of settling into a routine with my girlfriend.
I call her that in my videos—I make them at every practice.
At the dog park. At the senior apartments.
At the coffee shop. Almost every video begins with, “My gorgeous girlfriend and I are...” And then I tell people about how awesome people in Pine Ridge are, or how awesome my teammates are.
All I’m doing is saying what I’m seeing, but because I have a number on my back and can get a puck past a goalie, people get excited about it.
“Stop eating me, we have all that leftover spanakopita from the Angelakises,” Ingrid giggles and scrolls through my team schedule.
She’s writing my practices and doctor’s appointments in her phone and on her calendar. We’re adding things in on both of our schedules, like when people are dropping off meals to my house, when we’re visiting at Hilltop, and when we have home games.
“Want me to heat it up? Did I remember to bring it over?” I ask and limp to the fridge. This Saturday night, we’re free. My team is away in Cleveland, and so I’m at Ingrid’s house. On nights when I’m expecting meals, we’re at mine.
“Yeah, put it in the oven. Oh, and can you turn the coffee maker on?”
“You want coffee? This late? Ooh. Does someone need energy?” I tease.
Ingrid gives me a long look. “I filled the reservoir with water. I just want it hot for my tea.” She points to a pretty little canister on her counter.
My mouth dries out, and my cock springs up. “Okay. Tea. H-how often have you been having this?”
“Marina said I should drink it several times a day. She says hi, by the way. The bleeding totally stopped, and she has an ultrasound on Monday.”
“That’s good. Wonderful.” But I’m back on the tea. “Did you have some today?”
Ingrid finishes making a note on her calendar. “This is cup number four. I didn’t really love it at first, but I put honey and a couple of mint leaves in it, and it’s pretty good.”
“Good. Good.”
“How was your session with Kev yesterday? I think we rushed right to the game and we never got to discuss it.”
Her voice is so casual. It’s killing me.
“He said one more week in the immobilizer and then another X-ray. If the X-ray looks good, then he wants me to start mobility exercises, nice and slow.”
“But you can’t put weight on it yet?”
“No. But there are a thousand positions that don’t need me to put weight on it,” I blurt.
She smirks. “Ah ha!”
“You asked about putting weight on it!” I protest, hopping over to her.
“You connected it to sex.”
“You’re drinking pints of knotting tea. You want to have sex with me. You want,” I slap my palms down on either side of her on the kitchen table, and lean over, my face close to hers, “me inside of you.”
For a second, our eyes battle, and then our lips battle. “I don’t know if it’ll fit,” she says faintly. “I want it to, but...”
I pull back, startled. “You know I won’t.
.. ‘make’ it fit, right?” I sit down in a chair and scoot it up close to her, the wooden legs screeching on the tile as I put my knees outside of hers, one leg bent, the other awkward and stiff out to the side.
“I just want to have more with you. More of everything. More life. More love. More intense orgasms that make you decorate the sheets. But nothing that hurts you. My God.” I rub my throat, which instantly goes tight.
“Thinking about you hurting makes me sick. Like, physically sick. I l-love you, remember?” I haven’t said it again, and she’s still not told me, but I want her to be reminded.
Ingrid’s smile lights up the night. Her real smile, so natural and always looking like she’s about to laugh, so different than the polite, patient smiles she gives to everyone who comes into her office.
“I’m not worried about you trying to force it to fit.
I’m worried about disappointing you, or frustrating you.
Or... I don’t know. Not being the one you really want once you discover that sex will always be limited. ”
“You know what?” I stand back up and get the spanakopitas out of the fridge.
“I like our routine just how it is, and it can stay that way as long as you like. I love when you come meet me after work at the games. I love when you come to practices. Dinner. Then the evening dog walks. Hey, babe, you want to see about putting a fence up around the yard? Like, enclosing the whole yard? With a gate? Then the dogs could really cut loose and—”
Ingrid reaches past me and shuts the fridge door. With a slow, burning look that melts the words right out of my mouth, she heads to the coffee maker and pours the scalding water into her mug, guiding the water through the strainer of herbs and tea leaves.
“Routines are wonderful, especially when you add new, special things to them.” Her fingers lace with mine before she releases them and carefully picks up her mug. “Like, next week, aren’t you supposed to go talk to the high school gym class about the pet program?”
“Mhm. And next year at this time, we could be babysitting for Kev and Marina.” Next year at this time, she could be my wife. She could be carrying our baby.
“Promise not to be disappointed?”
“Never in a billion years.”
It’s not like I don’t want to. I want to.
King drops his sweats and boxers, then leans on the wall for a second, all of his muscles taut.
The shallow part of my brain screams that I really, really, really, oh-my-God-never-been-so-wet-in-my-life want to.
My heart is bellowing right along with my libido. That little speech about loving our simple routine and never wanting anything to hurt me made me tear up. King opens up with me in a way I don’t see him do with others, in a way I don’t see anyone do with others.
And I do the same. I wonder if this is what it is like when you find the one you love, the one you’re supposed to be with.
“I think the tea works,” I say, my voice hovering in the calm and informative zone while my hands ball into fists so I don’t rake my claws down King’s chest on my way to my knees.
My hands and mouth are itching to get around that cock, and my pussy drips at the thought. “It makes everything slippery.”
“It’s supposed to. We could test it, I think?” King takes off his immobilizer and sits on the edge of the bed.
I have candles. Black lace lingerie. Mood music.
None of that manifests, just King sitting naked on the edge of my bed, lifting my shirt over my head, and gasping in delight when he sees the red lace bra I have on tonight. “Oooh, hello, sexy thing,” he purrs.
“Stop,” I tease. “No, keep going. What do you mean—ah!—test it?” I ask, gasping when he undoes the hooks of my bra and catches my nipple expertly in his mouth.
He releases it long enough to say, “Do you have something bigger than my fingers but smaller than me?”
“Oh. T-toys.” I did not stammer. I’m a grown-ass woman who knows sex toys are healthy and fun.
It’s more the way the dripping between my legs turns to a geyser when I think of King using toys with me.
“I just thought that maybe we could see how much is comfortable before we dive right in. Although I’m okay with diving in,” he whispers.
“I have some.” I have one I just ordered a couple of days ago, one I haven’t broken in yet. “That drawer in the bottom of the nightstand.”
King opens the drawer, and I hold my breath. Will he say anything about what I have?
Nope. “Which one feels best?” he asks eagerly.
I love it. I love how excited he is to learn what I want. “The pink one is my favorite, but the one in the purple bag is new. I bought it thinking about us,” I confess.
“Aww. You’re so sweet, babe.” King grabs the small pink toy and then lifts the purple silk bag out. “Can we warm up with this one?” he asks, holding out my favorite.
“Warm up?”
“Yeah. Why don’t you use it while I help?” He rubs my hips, looking up at me, chin coming to rest on one breast. “Or I could just watch and see how you like it.”
“You know how I like it,” I point out with a kiss on his forehead. “You make me come every single time. No man has ever done that. Okay?”
“I could do better? Besides, there is nothing in the world sexier than you—unless it’s watching you play with that pussy.” King’s hands slide into my leggings and push them down. “Look at you. Soaked for me? Is this the tea?” he whispers, and his fingers slip the crotch of my panties to one side.
I moan and hold onto his hair while his head dips. His lips land in my curls, and his tongue swipes the puffy split of my swollen labia.
“It’s you. And the tea.” My eyes close when his fingers slide between my folds without any resistance, sinking in as if my pussy has suction, swallowing up two fingers.
With a whirl, King swoops me up and onto the bed, letting himself crash back. “Up here,” he pats his shoulders.
“I’ll drown you,” I protest with a giggle.
“I’m a strong swimmer, Ingrid, now come and let me have my favorite drink!”
It doesn’t take too much coaxing to get Ingrid to kneel over my face, planting her dripping slit on my hungry mouth. She’s so much juicier now. So much wetter. I don’t tell her how much I love seeing her up close like this, how much I love all the changes that are proof she wants my cock.
While I begin a slow, gentle lapping that sends breathy, quiet moans into the still bedroom, I reach beside me and find Ingrid’s pink toy. I run it along her slit, turning the soft buzzing on. I roll it over her clit and down into her soaked opening. “Ride this for me,” I murmur from my sweet nest.
“What? But you’re—”