Chapter 11
HAPPY
Before I can even formulate a response, Hannah moves my right hand from the steering wheel and lowers her head.
I know this is so not a good idea considering I’m currently careening through the city behind the wheel of my truck, but the second I feel her lips wrap around my cock, it’s like I’ve lost all ability to speak.
Gripping the steering wheel, I stare straight ahead, trying hard to focus while she takes me in so deep, I hit the back of her throat and hear her gag, a sound that makes me almost come. “Shit.”
Hannah grips the base of my cock with her hand, holding me tight, and her head bobs up and down, sucking me like a goddamn Dyson. It takes everything I have to keep my head from falling back against the seat.
Popping off me, Hannah lifts up, her hand jerking me off, and when I glimpse over to see her lips all wet and swollen, her cheeks flushed and eyes dazed with lust, I can’t stop myself from wrapping a hand around the back of her head and pulling her in to claim her lips with a rough kiss all while still keeping one eye on the road.
“You’re a bad fucking influence, Baby Draper,” I murmur against her mouth.
With a mischievous grin, she ducks down once more, swallowing my cock until she’s gagging again, only this time she doesn’t pull back; she takes me deeper until I’m not even sure she can breathe.
“Fuck!” I shout out, a low groan rumbling from deep in my chest. So fucking close.
Sucking in a gasp of air, Hannah pulls off before taking me again, and again, and again, and I swear to God, I almost veer off the road and into a rack of motherfucking city bikes.
“You’re gonna make me come if you don’t stop,” I warn through gritted teeth.
“That’s the plan,” she mutters around my cock, licking the tip before taking me deep.
When I stop at a red light, I look down and catch sight of her right as she chokes on my dick, and she turns her head enough to look up at me, the telltale tears glistening in her eyes doing something to me that I can’t even begin to explain.
“Christ,” I gruff through ragged, choppy breaths.
“Pull my hair,” she demands roughly.
I release my grip on the steering wheel, collecting her soft hair and wrapping it around my fist. When I give it a little tug, she moans around my dick, and the vibrations do nothing to help the state of my balls ready to release at any goddamn second.
“You’re so good at sucking my cock,” I grit out, pulling her hair a little harder. “Your mouth is like a fucking dream.”
Gripping my cock in her hand and jerking me hard, I feel her tongue on my balls, and when she sucks them into her mouth, I know I’m a fucking goner.
“I’m gonna come,” I warn her.
Hannah releases my balls and takes my cock deep just as my orgasm barrels through me, and I come hard against the back of her throat with a fucking roar that echoes around the truck and sounds nothing like me.
After a few beats, I’m still trembling, still breathless as Hannah releases me, sitting up with a smug smile as she wipes her lips with the back of her hand.
“Feel better?”
I huff a laugh. “Yeah, thanks for that.”
She nestles back into the passenger seat, and we settle into a comfortable silence as I turn onto her street, my head still swirling with that post-orgasmic bliss.
When I pull up outside Hannah’s apartment building, I know I should be getting home.
After tonight’s game and Chris Garret’s not so subtle warning, I need to hit the ice early in the morning, but when I look at Hannah, taking her in amongst the low light of the streetlamp outside, I can’t stop myself from shutting off the engine and unfastening my seatbelt because fuck me, the need to be inside her right now trumps every other one of my responsibilities.
The second we enter Hannah’s apartment, I’m on her, pushing her up against the wall, my lips rough as they claim hers.
She grips my shirt, holding me tight against her, and I roll my hips, allowing her to feel just how hard I already am, despite coming less than five minutes ago.
I swear to God, Hannah Draper has turned me into a goddamn teenager again.
I slide my hand down the front of her jeans, groaning at just how wet she is, soaking through her panties, and as I rub her clit through the cotton, I thrust my tongue inside her sweet, warm mouth, eliciting the neediest of whimpers from the back of her throat.
“Jesus Christ, Baby Draper,” I mutter against her lips. “This wet just from sucking my dick?”
“Yes,” she breathes out, her hips bucking as I put pressure on her prefect clit.
“You’re a goddamn dream girl, you know that?” I grit, peppering kisses down her neck and sucking hard on her pulse point, making her moan.
But, of course, just as I’m about to slide my hand inside her underwear and probably take her right here against the wall, my ministrations are stopped abruptly by the sound of a whining groan coming from behind me.
With a muttered expletive, I bury my face in Hannah’s neck, my shoulders falling with resignation.
“He needs to go out for a pee,” Hannah manages through her breathlessness.
Still pressed against her, I glance over my shoulder to find Toast Malone sitting there staring at me long and hard with a what-the-fuck-are-you-waiting-for-peasant look on his face. “Captain Cockblock strikes again.”
With a giggle, Hannah smacks me in my chest, pushing me off her, and I have to reach into my pants to adjust my painful erection, grimacing at the ache in my balls.
“Come on, buddy,” Hannah coos, opening the closet and pulling out the familiar blue leash. “Let’s go for a walk.”
When she has the beast secured, she stands and looks at me over her shoulder, her smirk playful and suggestive. “You coming?”
“Not the way I want to,” I mutter, following her and Toast Malone out of the apartment.
“So, what happened tonight?”
Hannah’s question throws me off guard as we walk down the street, Toast Malone stopping to cock his leg at every signpost we pass.
“I almost lost us our game,” I say with a shrug, looking down at the pavement.
“It’s more than that,” Hannah says, knocking me purposely with her shoulder. “I can tell.”
I look down at her to find her eyes smiling as she gazes up, and it feels like she can see straight through me. And man, what is it about this woman that I want to tell her all my secrets? This is new, and scary. And… if I’m honest, I don’t completely hate it.
“I’m at risk of being traded this summer,” I say with a resigned sigh.
Hannah stops suddenly, Toast Malone grunting in objection. She gapes up at me, confusion causing a crease to burrow between her eyebrows as she studies my face. “What makes you think that?” She narrows one eye. “Does this have anything to do with Chris?”
Avoiding her eyes, I rub at the nagging pinch in the back of my neck.
“Nah, my agent told me to prepare.” I swallow hard.
And, sure, I could tell her about Chris Garret’s thinly veiled threat from earlier today, but I really don’t want to risk bringing him up right now.
“And, if I’m traded, then I can say goodbye to hockey for good, because I—” I snap my mouth shut when I almost say too much.
“I-I… My mom’s here, and… I-I can’t leave New York. ”
She continues studying me for a long moment, her lips twisting to the side in thought before she says, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” She shakes her head dismissively, and we begin walking again. “Besides, my dad loves you.”
This time it’s me who stops—so suddenly I almost fall flat on my face. Gawking at the back of Hannah’s head, she turns, looking at me like I’m the delusional one. “What?”
“Your dad… Coach Lance Draper… loves me?” I blow out a raspberry. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“He does.”
“Your dad fucking hates me.” I bark an incredulous laugh.
“You’re wrong,” she says so matter-of-factly, I can’t help but balk. “My father loves you and he loves Dallas. I don’t know why. It’s just always been the case. He calls you and Dallas his boys.” She stabs the air with finger quotes.
Me and Dallas? I take a moment to ponder that because, surely, she’s mistaken. Coach Draper makes my and Dallas’s lives a living hell, more than anyone else on the team. There’s even been a few instances where I was sure he was going to beat the shit out of me with my own damn hockey stick.
“Trust me, out of everyone on that team, my dad will fight for you,” Hannah assures me, and I don’t know why, but there’s just something so sincere in the way she says it that I can’t help but believe her.
We continue walking in a companionable silence until we reach the green space on the corner of Mercer. Hannah releases Toast Malone off his leash, and he trots off, sniffing around for the perfect spot to cop a squat while we stand off to the side.
“It’s a nice night,” I say for the sake of it.
“Yeah,” Hannah muses, craning her head back to look up toward the sky. “Winter is officially over. Thank God.”
It’s only then that I realize just how close we are, the vanilla scent in her hair wafting up through the gentle breeze and assaulting my nostrils in the best kind of way.
I peer down at her, studying her beneath the dull glow of the safety lights dotted about the park, and I’m momentarily captivated by just how goddamn pretty she is.
Yes, she’s hot and sexy as hell and all that, but she’s also just…
pretty. She takes my fucking breath away.
“So, why do they call you Happy?”
Confused by her sudden and unexpected question, my eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean?”
“Happy Slater?” She says my name like it’s a question. “Why Happy?”
“Um… b-because… that’s my name…?”
She stares at me for a long moment, blinking once. “Your name is Happy?”
I shake my head once, so damn confused, I feel like at some point during the last thirty seconds I’ve been sucked into some sort of alternate universe. “Yeah, hi… have we met?” I jokingly extend my hand with a guffaw.
Hannah cocks her head to the side like she doesn’t believe me. “Your legal name is Happy?”
I scoff a laugh. “Yes.”
“Oh my God. All this time I’ve thought it was just some nickname because… well… because Happy. Really?” She shrieks with laughter. “Your parents actually named you Happy?”
I groan through my own self-deprecating laughter, dragging a hand down my face. “Well, I mean, no. Okay, so, the story goes, I was supposed to be named Harry after my mom’s favorite grandpa.”
Hannah nods, grinning up at me.
“But my dad was so fucking stoned when he filled out the paperwork at the hospital that Harry apparently looked like Happy, so… that’s what was filed.
Happy fuckin’ Slater.” I hold my arms out at the sides.
“They were going to get it fixed, but my mom said it kinda just stuck, so they decided to roll with it,” I add with a shrug.
Hannah stares up at me, her dimpled smile infectious. “Okay, so, that’s, like, my new favorite story ever!”
“I’d never tell my mom this, but I’m kind of glad my dad was high that night.” I narrow my eyes in thought. “I can’t imagine being Harry.”
“What was it like?” Hannah asks.
I quirk a brow.
“Growing up the son of a supermodel and a rockstar.”
Somehow, I refrain from rolling my eyes.
“A supermodel and a rockstar. It sounds so… cringe. They’re just Mom and Dad.
” I chuckle. “And growing up it was normal except my dad was always touring. And when he wasn’t touring, he was recording.
And when he wasn’t recording, he was messing around with groupies behind my mom’s back.
” I roll my eyes, remembering back to when I was a kid, hearing my parents argue, listening to my mom cry late at night when she thought I was asleep, seeing the incriminating photos of my dad in the tabloid magazines she’d try to hide from me.
“Do you get along with him? Your dad, I mean.”
I nod. “Yeah. I mean, there was a time when I hated him for what he did to my mom, but I was just a kid. I didn’t understand.
My parents were never meant to be, and they only stayed together because Mom got pregnant with me.
They lasted way longer than they should have.
Finally got divorced when I was fourteen, and I had to split my time between Los Angeles with my dad and here with Mom.
The first couple of years after the split were hard because there was so much resentment.
But as I got older, it was easy to see that they were just not right for each other.
They were better off as friends. Now, they’re, like, best friends.
It’s so weird. My dad calls my mom for relationship advice.
Of course, my mom tells him to stop dating women less than half his age, but my dad is a man of habit. ”
Hannah laughs.
“What about you?” I ask, nudging her with my hip. “What was it like growing up the daughter of a badass hockey player turned hard-ass coach?”
I don’t miss the way she beams at the mention of her father, and that makes my heart swell.
“My dad is and always has been my best friend. Growing up, when he was still playing, it was hard because I never really had a great relationship with my mom, so I hated it when he was away.”
“Your mom still around?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. She still lives in Charleston. With soon-to-be husband number three.”
“You were a beauty queen, weren’t you?” I smirk.
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” She groans. “When my parents divorced, Dad got the assistant coach position here, and he had to leave. I was stuck with my mother, and she… she’s not a nice person. I mean, that sounds really dramatic, but she’s not. She was so mean. She used to call me fat every day.”
“I beg your fuckin’ pardon!” I balk before I can stop myself.
“Just a horrible person to the core.” She shakes her head to herself. “She tried to change me, tried to turn me into the perfect southern belle. And, yes, she forced me into pageants. A few of which I won. But it just wasn’t me. I hated all that bullshit.”
“Still got your crown?” I nudge her again, waggling my eyebrow suggestively.
She offers me a droll look and I laugh, holding my hands up in defense. “Always wanted to fuck a beauty queen.”