28. Lydia
Ishould probably stop gambling away all my money.
I’ve been sitting here for hours now, and after not churning out anything positive on roulette—my bet on the twenty-three trick backfired on me—I’ve fed too many dollars into this slot machine for it to not make a fun noise telling me “I did it!”
I definitely do not have a problem.
As I see the number of credits dwindle down to a number too low to make another bet, I sigh, defeated, and press the “cash out” button. I can always be thankful that I had a fun time playing the slots and other table games when I came here, never reaching a point where I went bottom up.
But if Griffin’s going to be taking this long, I might be nearing that point.
No, he’s seeing Micah at the hospital. That’s what a good friend should be doing. We’ve got the rest of our lives to make memories together, so I shouldn’t be harping on about not seeing him after only an hour.
I get up from the very comfortable cushioned seat at the slot machine with my ticket for a whopping fifty cents when I almost ram right into the man that just occupied my thoughts.
“Griffin!” I squeal.
“Hey, babe,” he grins at me. “Going somewhere?”
“I was just about to head up to my room.” Because I spent my slush fund already, very quickly.
“Good,” he beams. He bends down and gives me a quick peck.
“How’s Micah?”
“He’s good. Well, as good as you can be being holed up in a hospital room. He’s....accepted that shit happens, and he’s made the decision to retire. Tonight was it.”
“Oh my god.” With all these thoughts of giving up and everyone who’s told me that I shouldn’t, there’s Micah, who just did it. Micah’s a quiet guy; he didn’t talk much the one time I met him at Griffin’s games night, compared to Griffin and Ross. He’s played in his fair share of All-Star games, and people always talk about how good of a player he is. If he didn’t get injured, then he probably would still play until Griffin or Ross retires. It blows me away that they’ve been playing for the past ten seasons together. Dedicating yourself to one team for that long is wild. I’d be amazed if LGU had me for ten years. But there might be bigger things on the horizon, and I just haven’t found it yet.
“How do you feel about that?” I ask Griffin.
“I’m not enthused that Micah’s deciding to retire. I wanted the three of us to retire together. There’s an emptiness without him on the ice after playing with him for so long.”
“When do you think you’ll retire?” I ask Griffin. “I know that’s a heavy question.” I’m not asking it to try and push him to retire. But I wonder if Griffin has a point where he’ll be ready to not play hockey anymore.
“It’s funny,” he laughs, taking my hand to guide me to a chaise near the elevators. “I was upset at Micah for seeming like a quitter. I could argue with him that if he did enough physical therapy, he’ll make a full recovery and play almost as good as he used to. But he doesn’t think he can. He’d rather stop playing hockey than come back and do worse. Or get injured again.
But I thought more about it and...I don’t know how much time I have left in me. I love hockey. It’s my favorite thing in the world.” He looks at me, takes a strand of hair covering my face, and pushes it behind my ear to look me straight in the eyes. “But eventually, I’m going to want to think about my future with you.”
I bark out a laugh. Wow, this skyrocketed to a level I was not expecting. The most I thought we were going to do was have sex and watch AdultSwim naked until we fell asleep.
“Wait, this isn’t a proposal, right?”
“What?” Griffin’s eyes go wide. “No. No, I mean, we’re in Vegas, so it’s not the most far-fetched thing to happen, but I’m somewhat of a romantic. I have big plans for when I propose to you.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. The thought of us and this proposed future together makes me feel all giddy inside. I never thought that I’d be so in love with someone, where I’d be thinking about marriage and the future we’ll build together.
“Oh yeah?” I peer up at him and raise a brow. “Care to share?”
He tsks, and suddenly, his big arms envelop me from the side, pulling me in so my head rests against his hard chest. The place where I feel safe. The place where I want to be when I wake up in the morning and when I go to sleep at night.
“I can’t ruin any surprises,” he tells me. “Just know that adventure is out there, Lydia. And I can’t wait to embark on the journey with you.”
We sit for a beat, still in each other’s arms. A fan comes up to Griffin and asks for an autograph. Although Griffin hesitates at first, he softens and gets up to sign a cocktail napkin the guy runs to the bar to grab. Griffin even goes so far as to ask if he would like to take a selfie. The fan’s face lights up as he frantically tries to take out his phone from his pocket. His hand shakes when he tries to get a photo of them together, so that’s when I muster up some courage to jump in and ask if they would like me to take the photo. The fan excitedly nods and hands me his phone.
“Thank you. Lydia, right?”
I blush. Slightly creepy? Maybe. Am I thinking to myself that it’s sweet that a fan recognizes me because I’m on some euphoric high right now? Yes.
I take the photo and hand him back his phone. He thanks us for taking the time to stop and snap a photo with him—we soon find out his name is Everett and he flew from San Jose to watch the game, also wishing for a better outcome, but he’s excited to indulge in some crab legs tomorrow to make himself feel better—and goes on his merry way.
Griffin stares down at me once we’re alone again. He bends down and whispers into my ear. “Why do you still have your clothes on?”
“Hey!” I point at his chest. “I’m not the one who stopped to take a photo with a fan. I’m proud of you, though. You didn’t seem overwhelmed by that at all.”
“It’s amazing what airing out your anxieties in therapy can do. And realizing you’re so in love with someone that it squashes those anxieties. Now,” he takes my legs and hoists me up in one fell swoop. I let out a cackling yelp as I grip him like a tree trunk. “About this clothes problem we have...”
Griffin carries me to the elevator, and when the doors close, he sets me down and pins me to the back wall. I jump a little, and go to crane my head over Griffin’s body to make sure the door doesn’t open, and someone walks in on our rather hot moment.
“Don’t worry, I’m listening,” he whispers with his hot breath on my neck. He’s planting small kisses down from my neck to my breast after each word is muttered.
“Okay.” I tilt my head back and let out a loud moan when his hands hurry to push my bra up, and his mouth latches onto my nipple.
“Oh, Griffin,” I breathe.
“God,” he says, gritting his teeth together. “The way you say my name like that makes me absolutely feral, Lydia. Are we there yet? I want to rip your pants off and eat you out right now.”
Shit, with the way he’s spilling his feelings like it is, I want him to also. Thankfully, Vegas hotel elevators move quickly to expedite getting guests to high floor levels, and before I spontaneously combust a la orgasm in the elevator, the soothing, sensual voice calling out Griffin’s floor number rings out.
“Finally,” he whispers and grabs me by the legs to hoist me over his shoulder. I playfully squirm a little at how the feeling makes me feel so light and airy. He takes long strides down the quiet hallway and, while still keeping his arm around my ass, fishes out his keycard from his wallet and taps it on the door.
Griffin’s room is on the 68th floor of the Blossom, which is also its top floor. Most of the floor is taken up by a penthouse suite that’s about the size of my childhood home, but his room has a beautiful view overlooking the Strip, across from the Bellagio fountains.
The door closes, and he throws me gently onto the King-sized bed. I don’t have to do any of the work to take my clothes off. Griffin’s doing it all for me. He’s unbuttoning my jeans, he’s propping me up to take my shirt off, he’s unclasping my bra with quick work of his hands.
He’s doing everything to take care of me, sprinkling kisses in between each garment leaving my body.
“I’ve missed you,” he tells me, and I see his eyes go glassy. “I’ve missed you so much. You’re it for me. You and all your beautiful curves.” He takes a hand and strokes it down my body, from my neck and over my breast, down to trace the curve of my ass and over my thigh.
“I never want to be in a place where I’m so low that I let go of the one person who brings out the best in me. I want to grow old with you, Lydia.”
When a tear falls onto my naked body, I start feeling those emotions too. Our relationship feels like it’s straight out of a fairytale. I mean, statistically, what are the chances you’ll find your soulmate in a video game? It seems more unlikely than swiping right on a dating app. It took a lot of tears and heartache, but I always hoped we’d find our way back to one another. I just had to keep telling myself to not give up.
“I want to grow old with you too.” I want future us to be in our reclining chairs, holding hands and watching game shows. “Are you sure you don’t want to just get married while we’re here? Even the Taco Bell has a chapel!”
His eyes perk up, and he flashes a smirk. “Well, how can you say no to a Taco Bell wedding?” He kisses me tenderly. “Right now, though, I want to take you on a little ride.”
He pushes one of my legs up and holds it before he bends over and buries his head down there, taking one, two licks over my folds before he’s sucking on my clit.
I take a deep breath in and let it out through my mouth. The only thing I can utter is a satisfying “fuuuck.”
“Good?” Griffin whispers as he comes up for air.
The absolute best. There’s little that can top it. Being treated like a queen on the brink of coming.
“Amazing. Stellar. Impossible to beat.”
He caresses my cheek and lightly pinches at the end. “I haven’t even finished yet. I’m still trying to end up inside you.”
I lean into his touch. I think Griffin underestimates how much I’ve longed for this. Come to think of it, maybe he does understand. Because I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Griffin Markey cry. Not when we broke up or at any point we were together. But he shed a tear tonight when looking at me unclothed and thinking about us and our forever.
“Well, then. Carry on.”
“You still on birth control?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I nod.
“Is it okay if I’m bare?”
“Yeah.”
He kisses me on the forehead and slides his briefs down his legs, tossing them behind him. He crawls up over me slowly, tenderly, and in an instant, he’s pushed his way into me. His dick fills me up, and my eyes widen when he slowly thrusts in and out.
In.
Out.
In.
“Damn, Lydia.” Griffin’s chest rapidly rises and falls. “I’m so obsessed with you.”
“Yeah?” I whisper. Seems like that’s the only word in my vernacular when my mind is fixated on Griffin and his magical dick.
“Yeah, baby.” He kisses me tenderly. But I don’t let him leave. I bite his bottom lip, and he moans. He thrusts with more force now, and I’m losing my breath, moaning into Griffin’s mouth, kissing, tilting my neck back until Griffin enters into me one last time, and he lets a breath out.
He pants over my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around him.
“That was...” great? Better than great. It was like I was catapulted into the sky. Like when you feel yourself lift out of your seat when you’re coming down on a rollercoaster.
“That sent me to space,” I say, giving him a quick peck.
“Too bad we have to come back down,” he says.
We go over to the bathroom to clean up, and he moves to turn the shower on.
“Need to rinse off?” he asks.
“I could use a good shower.”
He opens the curtain and beckons for me to enter, before he steps in and closes the curtain behind him. I feel the hot water beating on my back and start to wet my hair.
“Here,” he says, reaching for the shampoo. “Can I wash your hair?”
I purse my lips. Talk about getting the royal treatment. I grin and turn around so my back is up against Griffin’s naked body. He starts to massage the shampoo into my scalp, and I exhale, leaning my head into his chest so he can cover the rest of my head.
“This is nice,” I tell him. “Thanks.”
“Anything for my Liddy. And this just gives me an excuse to spend more time with you.”
As we continue, taking turns washing each other’s hair, scrubbing soap on each other’s bodies, Griffin noting to “make sure I get his dick squeaky clean,” we end the night back in bed, unclothed. We watch adult cartoons until I feel my eyelids get heavy, and I start to fall asleep on Griffin’s chest. He kisses my head and whispers, “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too. So much,” I mumble, nuzzling my cheek into his body like he’s the most comfortable pillow. It’s the best way to end our night and to begin our rekindled forever.