Chapter 11
eleven
Ethan
A fter a night of not much sleep and lots of loving, Tessa pokes at my sore shoulder until I get out of bed to help her with the chickens. Had I not overused the muscles holding myself above her or lifting her in my arms, the effects of my fall wouldn’t be a bother. Grumbling and complaining I make a big deal out of the ache until she agrees to rub the pain cream on it, after we feed the chickens.
My jacket is still damp so Tessa finds one of her granddad’s old coats. It won’t button across my chest but should keep me warm enough for chicken tending. A wool hunter’s cap and thick, yellow work gloves complete my failed fashion statement. Thank fuck none of the team can see me dressed like this.
Tessa simply grins and kisses my cheek.
The sight meeting us when she opens the back door prevents us from leaving the house. She glances back at me. “I had no idea it was supposed to snow so much.”
Drifts that must be hip high pile against the outbuildings. Thankfully the wind kept the short path to the coop reasonably clear of snow and we make our way carefully across the yard.
I expect typical white or brown hens. The exotic looking birds in her coop are far from ordinary. She introduces each one and tells me about the breed. I hold a small basket while she finds five eggs. After thanking the ladies, she closes the coop door securely.
“Shouldn’t we turn off the light?” I ask.
“No. I’m using the light to play a trick on them. When days are shorter, many hens stop laying. So I give them an extra-long artificial day. To keep them laying. We’ve got breakfast, so it’s working.”
“I need to check my truck. See how drifted in it is.”
The bright sparkle fades from her eyes. “Go see. I’ll start breakfast.”
Tugging her scarf down to expose her mouth, I brush my lips over hers. “I won’t be long.”
Snow hides the slick layer of ice so I shuffle carefully to the front of the house and my poor truck. Snow has filled the bed, but otherwise there’s only a few small drifts between it and the drive. Shouldn’t be too difficult to tow it out. Whenever a truck can get here.
Smiling, I turn back to the house. I have absolutely no problem being stuck here with Tessa. The longer the snow lasts, the better.
In the kitchen I nearly trip over Sam as the cat weaves between my feet as I’m trying to walk. Tessa’s expressive eyes are happy again and she chuckles. “He wants you to feed him.”
“Point me to the cat chow.”
“Sam doesn’t eat anything so pedestrian. He tolerates only the finest, most expensive kibble. Mixed with a little wet food.” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “And a pile of cat nummies next to the bowl.”
I pick up the cat and he immediately starts to purr. “Spoiled much?”
“He’s quite the diva. Your truck okay?”
While she prepared a huge breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and sausage, I tell her the condition of the truck’s entrapment then find the number and call the local towing company. I relay my conversation as she sets my plate before me. “He said the roads are still pretty bad and to stay put if we can. As long as the weather doesn’t turn nasty again, he should be around sometime tomorrow to pull me out. Damn, honey, this smells great.”
Tastes even better with the warmed real maple syrup. After I help with the dishes and we straighten the mess of quilts and pillows we left in the living room last night, I stack the wood and start a fire in the fireplace. Turning to where she sits on the couch, I waggle my eyebrows. “So, what would you like to do today?”
“Some of that would be nice, but later.” A pink blush fills her cheeks. “I am a little tender.”
“There’s plenty we can do that will gentle for you. Later.” I point toward one corner of the room. “Want to put up your Christmas tree?”
Her lower lip trembles. Tears glisten along her lashes. Fuck, she’s going to cry. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Pressing her lips together, she takes a deep breath and blinks a few times, regaining control. “I got the tree out a few weeks ago. But I haven’t been able to put it up. Granddad and I… it was our thing to decorate. Especially after Gram got sick. I…I just couldn’t face it alone. I couldn’t.”
Both of my folks are still alive and off in Europe somewhere. I never knew any of my grandparents. I don’t completely understand her sorrow but I can offer comfort. Taking her in my arms, I press a kiss to her hair. “Cry if you need to, honey. You’ll feel better. Then we’ll talk.”
Her voice is muffled by my shirt. “How did you get to be so smart?” Then with a harsh sob, her tears fall, wetting the fabric over my heart. She doesn’t cry long yet doesn’t pull away when only the sound of her shuddering breaths fill the room. “I’m fine. Oh my stars, I’ve soaked your shirt.”
I chuckle and hold her tighter. “I love how ‘stars’ is your only cuss word, honey.”
She shrugs. “Sometimes I say ‘damn’. Only in extreme circumstances.”
“I suppose you think I have a filthy mouth then?”
“I’ve heard worse. It’s not that I can’t say ‘fuck’. I just don’t want to. Think it sometimes on rare occasions. As long as the context is right, I don’t care what words you use. I understand locker room culture.”
I doubt she really does, but I’m not going to call her on it.
She pulls away from my embrace, squares her shoulders, and faces the boxes in the corner. “Let’s fucking get this tree up and decorated.”
Resting my hands on her hips I lean into her and whisper, “Stick with ‘stars’, honey. Don’t try to change anything about you to impress me. I love you just as you are.”
We both freeze at my words. I hadn’t meant to use the ‘l’ word yet. To expose myself and my feelings toward her. Fuck, I hope I haven’t messed up.
“The tree then,” she says softly. “Want to watch another movie or put on some music while we decorate?”
“Music’s good. I like just about any style, so you choose.”
She steps toward an old stereo turntable and slides open the cabinet door beneath it to expose a shelf stuffed with vinyl albums. “It’s got to be Christmas oldies then.”
The smooth voices from the forties and fifties encourage us to celebrate Christmas as we unbox what feels like a hundred silver aluminum branches and fit them into the correct holes on the trunk.
“So, Crunch,” Tessa says as she unwraps ornaments. “You were going to tell me how you got your nickname.”
“I was hoping you’d forgotten.”
She taps her temple. “Memory like an elephant. Spill.”
I hate recounting this story. The fans love it and won’t let me forget. I don’t want my woman to get the wrong impression. She looks ready to start tapping her foot and I know she won’t let this go. She’ll need to hear it sometime anyway, so why not now.
“Sometimes television network or people doing sports documentaries have this great idea to have certain players wear a mic.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen that.”
“The Lynx and a team from the west coast were filming an exhibition game and one of their players thought it would be fun to get in my face. I’m more in control now, even when facing down a rival. It was my first year on the team and I thought I was some hot shit.”
“You are one of the star players.”
“Think so?”
“Of course.” She stands to begin placing ornaments on the tree. “Go on.”
“This player wore a mic. I didn’t, not that it would have mattered. Anyway, I punched him. My fist went up under his visor. Because of the mic, everyone in the rink heard the sound, the crunch, when I broke his nose.”
Her shudder shakes the tree branch she’s holding. “Eww. I see why you don’t want to talk about that.”
“Every time I’m introduced pre-game with ‘Crunch’ it’s like it’s happening again. Doesn’t help some ‘fan’ figured out how to make crunching noises with empty cups. Then someone took that cereal tiger’s roar and substituted crrrrrruunnnnch.”
She tries not to laugh at my imitation but fails and I give into the moment, joining her. Her acceptance and sweet nature takes away the sting of guilt I normally experience when describing the moment.
We work together in pleasant silence until the tree is almost covered with ornaments. She pauses holding a glitter-filled clear ball. Her voice wavers when she speaks. “Every year my family made one special ornament for the tree. This is last year’s. The last one Granddad and I made.”
Gently, I take the ornament from her. “Then let’s put it in a place of honor near the top.” At her nod, I attach it to the tree. She plugs in the small spotlight with a turning wheel that shines different colored lights on the silver tree. I snuggle her close as we watch the colors cycle through a couple times.
“If I had some craft supplies, we could make an ornament for this year.”
“Hold on. I have an idea.” After settling her on the couch, I stride to the guest room and dig through my duffle for a couple things. After about two seconds consideration, I drop the duffle in her bedroom on my way back to her. I plop beside her and rest a puck on her thigh.
“What’s this?”
“A puck.”
“I know that, silly. What’s it for? Besides whacking around on the ice?”
“Let’s use it to make our first ornament. For now we can balance it against the trunk until we figure out how to hang it.”
She glances at the tree then back to the puck. “How are we going to decorate it?”
I pull out a white paint pen. “Coach wants us to always carry a couple of these. With the Lynx colors being black and gold, lots of times the programs or posters fans want us to sign don’t have enough white space to use a regular marker.”
“That’s why you had one at the rink.”
“Yep. We could maybe, oh, I don’t know. What about drawing a snowflake and putting the date on it? To remember getting snowed in together.”
“And our names.”
Having our names together on an ornament feels like a step toward a permanent relationship. This might be a way of her responding to my saying I love her. Or just a way to remember the icy weather. It could go either way. “That sounds nice.”
She draws an intricate snowflake on one side of the puck then we each print our first name and she adds the date. “It needs something around the sides,” she says then bends her head over the puck and creates a series of swirls that remind me of blowing wind.
“That’s perfect, honey. Where do you want me to place it?”
“Up near the top, close to Granddad’s last ornament.”
Using a piece of thin wire that had held some of the branches together, I’m able to keep the puck-ornament in place. “That’s perfect,” Tessa sighs. “Thank you for thinking of that.”
“You’re welcome.”
Before I can kiss her, she yawns. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean…” She covers her mouth and yawns again. “I need a nap. You didn’t let me sleep much last night.”
“Hey, not all that was my idea.” I love how her cheeks fill with color and press my lips to her warming skin there.
“Take a nap with me?” My expression must have betrayed my lusty thoughts because she lightly slaps my chest. “I mean to sleep. Other stuff later. Okay?”
Fully clothed we crawl into her bed and snuggle under the thick comforter. With my arm around her waist, I spoon her close to my body, kiss her exposed neck and wish her sweet dreams. Her breathing shifts almost immediately as she falls asleep. My woman is sleeping in my arms. Everything is right and perfect in my world.
When I open my eyes the room is filled with shadows. We’ve slept through most of the afternoon. Tessa is pressed against my side, facing me and I sense the weight of her eyes on me. “Hey, honey.”
“Ethan.” The whispered sigh of my name shoots lust straight to my cock. Her fingers dance over my chest and I shift slightly to aid her exploration.
“Ethan, would you teach me how to pleasure you?”
“Honey, you do please me.”
“I mean… stars, this is tough to say… I want to give you pleasure with my mouth.” Her hand moves to the front of my jeans. “Here.”
It’s cute how there’s some words she’s reluctant to say and I can’t help teasing just a bit. “You mean fellatio? Oral sex? You want to give me a blow job? Suck my?—”
Laughing she slaps her hand over my mouth. “Yes, darn you. That’s exactly what I mean.” Her expression turns serious. “To learn what and how you like it. I haven’t done… well, I’m sure you figured that out. No experience. Will you?”
I tap one finger against my cheek in contemplation before staring into her hopeful blue eyes. “I’m not sure one lesson will be enough. Then there’s practice time.”
Tessa turns her face from me. The length of her hair hides her features. “I understand if you don’t want to.”
“Not what I mean at all, my sweet girl. I am, umm, more than willing to commit to the practice time if you are.” The commitment possibilities with Tessa fill me with hope. I know I can’t hide out here forever. I have responsibilities to the Lynx, our next game is in a few days and I need to get on the practice ice. Before I have to leave, I’ll make my commitment to Tessa, making sure she knows how much I love her.
“You’ll teach me? Now?” There’s a note of desperation in her request and I assume it’s because she needs to connect sexually with me as much as I need her. How can I deny her anything? Especially when it’ll make us both feel great.
I look down at my body. “Seems I’m overdressed. First lesson is you’ll need to get me out of my jeans.”
Catching her lower lip between her teeth—an unconscious act that never fails to turn me on—she shoves the comforter to one side and reaches for the button on my jeans. My cock’s already pressed painfully against the zipper. It’s all I can do to keep my hands at my sides and not hurry her through the process.
We both need these lessons to be successful.
As soon as I’m naked and propped in a cushion of pillows against the headboard, she tugs off her clothes and curls beside me. She rests her cheek against my chest to study how my cock twitches against my stomach. “You have a handsome cock.”
“You said cock. I’m surprised.”
“Under the circumstances I think penis is the unattractive word.”
“Whatever words you want to use, honey. This first time, all I want you to do is kiss and lick. No more than the head inside your mouth.”
“But I want to experience every inch of you this way.”
Dear god, this is gonna kill me. “You will eventually, Tessa. I promise. You, we need to start slow. I sure as hell don’t expect you to deep throat me your first time.” Curling my fingers under her chin, I lift until she looks at me. “Tessa, honey, we need to go slow. Alright?”
“Yes.”
I take her hand and kiss each finger. “Use your hand to stroke me while you explore the head with your mouth. I’ll guide you at first, okay?”
Her beauteous smile lightens my concerns and she sighs as my cock leaps into her hand. After a few strokes, I release her and crush the bedding in my fist. With my free hand I caress her scalp and tangle my fingers in her hair. The warmth of her breath flows over my cock, followed by short flicks of her tongue. My head falls back and I surrender to her mouth.
Without my instruction, the strokes of her hand coordinate with the swirl of her tongue and the suction of her mouth. It’s nearly impossible for me to remain still as the need to come tightens my balls. When I lift my heavy eyelids and watch how her cheeks hollow I groan. I want to move, need to thrust. My hips arch and she takes more of my length into her mouth and sighs.
“Tessa, honey, I don’t want to come like this.”
She pulls her lips from me with a soft pop. “Why not? Am I not doing it right?”
“God, woman. It’s so right. I need you hard. Fast. Not in your mouth. Not this time.”
“You want to fu…fuck me? Oh, Ethan, I hope so. I’m so ready to feel you inside me.”
I need to get her ready but when I take a closer look, she’s got one hand between her thighs, fingering herself. “Baby girl, you got yourself wet and ready for me?”
She lifts her hand to show me her wet fingers, then presses them into my mouth. “Have I?”
“Fuck yeah.” I ease her to her back and settle in the hot cradle of her thighs. Cupping one breast, I suck hard on her nipple then scrape my teeth over the swollen peak. After lavishing the same treatment to her other nipple I plunder her mouth, showing her with my tongue what I’m going to do with my cock.
“Desperate for you, honey. Don’t know if I… oh god… can be gentle.”
“Don’t be. I want to feel you. All of it. Now, Ethan. Please, make me…”
“Wrap your legs around my waist.”
I’m able to slow my entrance, drawing out our pleasure. But once seated I lose control. We both lose control. I suck hard on the tender skin of her neck as she comes, leaving my mark on her. Then I follow her into that sensual oblivion, shouting her name.