Chapter 36
JUST A TASTE
Lake
Hockey.
Just hockey.
Only hockey.
That’s what goes through my head the rest of the day as we practice at the Evergreen Falls Arena.
Since Remy will be moving on when this ends, and I’ll have to as well. Don’t want to move on from her. Don’t know how to convince her to move on with me. Hockey though? That’s what I’ll never move on from.
I remind myself of that as we shoot press photos with the Sea Dogs for The Sports Network before the game.
Our first line heads to the ice as if we’re facing off against theirs.
Wesley Bryant, their hotshot right winger, Asher Callahan, their veteran left winger, and Miles Falcon, their center.
Since it’s a promo shot, our goalies are here too at center ice, looming ominously.
Miller’s next to me, mask on, game face tight for the cameras. But once the cameras are off, he grins like an excited kid. “This is going to be so fun.”
“’Cause you like losing,” Wesley tosses out.
Miller shakes his head. “Nah. It’s going to be so fun to beat you here just like we did on your home turf earlier this year.”
Wesley snarls. Miles deals us an ominous stare.
But Asher just gives a shoulder shrug. “Miracles do happen, boys,” he muses like nothing can bother him.
I know that feeling too when I’m on the ice. The ice is the place where nothing can hurt me. Where emotions don’t touch me. Where I’m one with the puck.
“It’s not going to take a miracle,” I drawl as I skate away. “It’s just going to take me.”
Maybe I’ve put a target on my back, but I don’t care. I want to beat our crosstown rivals as much as I want to beat any team, but I especially want to tonight.
We might not be a real thing, but I promised Remy I’d show her how a good man would treat her, and I’ll do that till the planned end. I’ll do it as well as I play the game I’m obsessed with. There’s something about winning in front of the woman you want to impress. It’s hot, plain and simple.
Once we’re in the locker room, taping up before the game, I turn to the guys, starting with Miller. “A thousand dollars for every goal saved.”
He scoffs, “You don’t have to bribe me. I’m going to fucking save them anyway.”
“Consider it an extra incentive.” I switch my attention to Riggs and Corbin. “And a thousand for every point you fuckers score.”
“Love it when you pay us extra to do what we were already going to do,” Riggs says, then points his stick at me. “But don’t forget we still have a grand on you falling in love.”
I wince at the reminder of the bet. At the way it makes my chest squirm. Love is for other people. Love is for other times. Someday when she’s ready, Remy will find a man who gives her the world—someone who knows how the hell to make love work.
When we hit the ice, both teams join some local kids all suited up in skates and gear.
It’s part of an effort to drive awareness of mental health for young players.
As I stretch out the hammies with some teenagers, I briefly wish my father would take his mental health as seriously as these young athletes do, but I’ve suggested that in the past to him to no avail.
You can’t make someone you love get help. All I can do is still love him. And I show him that at game time when I tap my left shoulder for him. Then I look to the press box where Remy is and I give a chin nod. Mouthing the word presume. So she knows that gesture is for her.
Even if this is all going to end after the wedding, she deserves the full boyfriend treatment now. Like I promised.
At the face-off I jostle for the puck, snagging it from Bryant, then flying down the ice with it.
I spot an opening, line up at just the right angle for a sharp, precise wrist shot, and bam!
It sails past their goalie and lands in the twine with a satisfying thwap.
Victorious, I give a fist pump, then shoot Bryant a look like told you so.
After the scoreboard boasts of our early lead, I dig in, and focus on each second, and keep playing at the top of my game the whole night.
And as promised I enjoy destroying the Sea Dogs very much. When the scoreboard flashes with a W, I turn my attention to the press box once more, and I feel like the king of the ice when I spot Remy cheering.
* * *
When we’re back at the hotel, I’m so amped up from the win that my hands are aching to touch her.
I want to peel off our clothes in the hallway as we walk back to the room—no need for a suite tonight, after all, so I kept this room.
By the time we reach the door I’m kissing the back of her neck, roaming my hands up her sweater, whispering filthy things in her ear.
She shudders and says, “I can’t even concentrate and open the door.”
“Let me,” I say, taking the key card, sliding it over the pad, and pushing the door open. Once we’re inside, I strip off her sweater in no time, but then stop since she’s staring at something behind me, pointing. “You got us champagne?”
I just spin around, spotting a bucket of champagne and two flutes on the table in the corner. “Actually, no,” I say, feeling a little sheepish that I didn’t. Maybe I should have.
She walks over to the bucket and picks up the card next to it. “Thank you so much for staying at the Chestnut Inn. Come back anytime. Best wishes, Cedric. He must have felt really bad for the one room thing.”
“And clearly wanted to make up for it.”
Remy flashes me a naughty grin. “He hardly has to. You’re going to make it up to me with your mouth,” she says, then steps closer and drags her thumb along my bottom lip, making me forget my fucking name as my skin lights up.
But the star of the show tonight is her.
“Get naked and get on the bed.”
“If you insist.”
“I do,” I say, then open the bottle. When she’s down to nothing, I tug off my shirt, leaving only my jeans on as I climb on the bed, champagne in hand. It’s not lost on me that she bought champagne for her ex and didn’t get to drink it. This champagne isn’t going to waste.
I drizzle some of the bubbly on her breasts, then spend a good long time worshiping those gorgeous globes, licking the champagne off her flesh, sucking her nipples till she’s writhing and I’m aching.
Grabbing at the sheets with one hand, she pushes my head lower with the other, practically begging me to eat her up.
I set the bottle of champagne aside and then kiss my way down her body, reaching her hips.
I pause for a second or two, amazed I get to do this. I get to touch her. It’s such a privilege.
I can’t believe that the woman I crushed on from afar is so much better in real life. More fun, more caring, more kind than I’d imagined. And for a few more days, she’s all mine. As that heady thought roars through me, I settle between her thighs.
But she presses a hand to my shoulder, stopping me. “I have to warn you, I don’t come this way easily.”
She gives me an apologetic look, but there’s nothing to apologize for. This isn’t a problem. This is something we can figure out together.
“Is it that you don’t like it?”
“No, I like it. I mean, I think I like it. It’s just that it’s sort of hard to let go.”
I could say something cocky like it’s because whoever was with you wasn’t doing it right, but now is not the time for crowing. Now is the time for listening. “Do you want to let go?”
She pauses and shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Then how about this? I’ll just go down on you for a few minutes. No pressure. Come or don’t come—whatever works for you. And when you want to stop, I’ll fuck you instead just the way you like it.”
“Okay,” she says, sounding breathy, and sounding happy too, like that was the right answer I gave.
Thank fuck.
I’m not some kind of expert in the mind or intimacy. But if she’s worried about letting go, maybe the most important thing is to let her know she doesn’t have to with me. She can just be herself.
I slide my hands under her ass, scoop her up, and bring her close to my mouth.
And then I kiss and lick and suck. I flatten my tongue, dragging it slowly, luxuriously up and down.
I savor every single taste of her, flicking her clit with the tip of my tongue.
Letting her know with my hands digging into her ass, with my sounds, moans, and grunts that come from the center of my filthy soul how absolutely fucking good it is whether she lets go or not.
And I kiss her pussy more deeply, like I’m French kissing her. Like I can’t get enough of her taste, her scent, her pleasure as I listen to her every sound.
As she starts to whimper, as she arches her hips, as she grabs my hair, I don’t stop. I pick up the pace a little bit while the pleasure runs roughshod through my veins. She grinds against my face then lets out the sexiest little squeak, digs her nails into my skull and then shouts, “Oh my god.”
Like it surprised her. Like she wasn’t expecting the orgasm to take her hostage.
She rocks up into my mouth as pleasure seems to take over her body, and I kiss her through it as lust barrels through mine.
When I let go, she’s panting, breathing hard, running a hand through her hair, basking in the letting go, and it’s a stunning sight. Made even more so when her eyes flutter open, and she looks both satisfied and powerful. And like a woman with a plan.
She scoots up a little on the pillows, then pushes her tits together. “Come on me.”
I’m not saying no to that.
I rip off my jeans and boxer briefs, then drag my fingers through her sweet, wet pussy, and lube my dick with her orgasm.
She gasps.
“Knew you could do it, beautiful. I fucking believe in you, my horny, dirty woman.”
“Lake,” she says, but it comes out like a needy rasp.
“Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you need,” I say, then slide my fingers through her one more time, watching her shudder, then shudder again as I stroke myself.
I straddle her chest and slide my slick cock between her breasts, give a few quick pumps, then stop when she darts out her tongue. “You want a taste of me?”
“I really do.”
I move higher, offering her my dick.
She parts her lips so perfectly, so seamlessly. Yes, she’s letting go indeed.
I give her an inch, and she takes it, flicking her tongue all over the head. My thighs are shaking. My brain is scrambling.
“I’m close,” I mutter, then shift back down to her tits.
She squeezes them again, offering me the fantastic valley between them. And I take, and I fuck, till I’m eaten alive by pleasure and coming all over this woman.
When I collapse next to her, both of us a sticky mess, she runs a hand along her breasts, drags her fingers through my release, then brings it to her mouth. She sucks me off her fingers, closes her eyes, and moans.
And right now, nothing feels fake between us.