Chapter 33 – Brianna
Seth: Who’s the couple?
I've only been home from Sawyer's game for thirty minutes—barely enough time to shower and climb into bed.
Brianna: What?
Seth: The new couple that you’ve been watching late at night while avoiding my bed.
My heart races. Seth thinks I've been avoiding him, and he's not wrong. Ever since my conversation with my dad about his possible trade, I've been keeping my distance, mostly because I hate lying to him. And staying quiet about this feels exactly like a lie of omission.
Brianna: Shouldn’t you be sleeping?
Seth: Can’t sleep.
I get up to close my bedroom door, careful to lock it quietly so I don’t wake Natasha. She’s finishing a nap since she’s on the late-night shift tonight at the bar.
Seth: Aren’t you going to ask me why I can’t sleep?
Brianna: No, because I don’t want to keep you awake. You have a game. You need to be resting!
Seth: I can’t sleep because I keep thinking about you in those tight spandex shorts you wore today. Maybe if you were here, I wouldn’t be wide awake right now. I’d probably be satiated and able to fall asleep. You’d be in my arms, and I’d be able to relax.
Brianna: Seth…
Seth: Tell me the name of the new couple. The one you’re cheating on me with.
Brianna: The Greys.
Seth: I like it. Sounds dirty. I’m calling you. Answer on video or I’m walking down to your house, and you know my hamstring’s tight already.
My phone lights up the room in a soft blue glow, Seth’s name flashing across the screen almost immediately. I bite back a grin as I swipe up and accept the video call.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, sliding to lay back against my pillows. His dark blond hair’s a mess, hazel eyes stormy as they gaze back at me on the screen. It’s dark in his room, all the lights are turned off and I can tell he’s laying down in his bed too.
“Facetiming you so that we can watch our new favorite couple together.”
“Seth!” I laugh and then clamp a hand over my mouth.
“You won’t come over,” he says with a shrug of one shoulder, completely unbothered, “so this is the next best thing.”
He flips the camera around and shows me—the big TV screen hanging across from his bed, the same one we watched The Wellingtons on last weekend. Back when I was curled up beside him, tucked into his warmth, his arm slung over my waist like I belonged there.
But tonight, it’s not the Wellingtons frozen on the screen; it’s The Greys. My newest favorite couple. A married pair with this low-simmer kind of love that you can practically feel through the device.
“What episode are you on?” I whisper, already reaching for my phone’s earbuds so that we can have this conversation in private.
“Eighteen,” he says, his voice husky. “I skipped ahead to one that looked good.”
I pull the app open on my phone, find episode eighteen and hit play, muting the audio and switching on subtitles. Then I split the screen so it’s half his face, shadowed and sleepy in the dark of his room, the other half the show.
“You naked now?” he asks.
I shift until my pajama bottoms are off and my skin’s bare and soft against the silk sheets.
“I am now.”
“Good.”
He has the camera angling up from below his face which gives me the perfect view of his strong jawline, his bare chest dusted with dark blond and his messy hair.
“You missed the opening,” he murmurs. “Someone asked them how long they’ve been married.”
I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth. “What’d they say?”
“Twenty years.”
“That’s a long time,” I whisper. “They met as teenagers.”
“Hm...” he hums softly. “I wish I knew you when I was a teenager.”
“I was a nerd, and you were a jock. I doubt you would have been into me.”
He chuckles. “You’re wrong about that. There’s no world where I wouldn’t have liked you.”
We’re silent as we both watch the screen. Mrs. Grey is sucking her husband off while Mr. Grey works a butt plug into her ass.
“Someone asked them what the secret was to a long, happy marriage.” His gaze shifts to my face on the screen. “Want to know what their answer was?”
I nod, and he leans in like he’s about to tell me something sacred. “The woman always comes first.”
I raise an eyebrow. “They did not say that.”
He smiles and lays back, relaxed. “He did. I know marriage takes more than that, but I can’t believe there’s a world where a man wouldn’t make sure the woman comes first.”
I laugh softly. “You always make sure I come first.”
“Damn right I do,” he says, voice rough. “But if that’s the key to a happy marriage, then marriage would be easy.”
“You say that like it isn’t.”
His smile fades, just slightly, eyes darkening with something quieter.
“Maybe it wasn’t marriage that was hard for me,” he says after a beat. “Maybe it was the person and the timing. I was young and na?ve when I got married the first time.” He swallows thickly and I can tell we’re entering a heavier topic.
“Do you think it could be easy? Like the Greys? Like the Wellingtons make it seem?”
He nods slowly. “I’m starting to believe it could be.”
I shift beneath the covers, watching the screen, watching him, thinking about how turned on I am and how much I miss spending time with him.
Things with Seth have never felt purely physical.
There’s always been a deeper friendship to our relationship.
A level of comfort that allows us to watch porn together and talk about the tough things while being vulnerable.
“Maybe we should pay attention. See how things end for them tonight.”
His voice softens. “I already know how I want it to end.”
I think about that for a second—about what he said, about how easy it could be with the right person—as my fingers drift lower.
I slide through my own slickness, hips twitching at the contact.
I’m soaked, not because of the scene that’s playing out on the screen, I’m hardly paying it any mind, but because of him.
I’m only looking at his face. I’m only seeing him.
And though I know he has the TV on in the background of his bedroom, he’s only looking at me now.
There’s something wildly filthy about this—knowing Seth’s watching the same thing I am from just a few houses over.
Knowing he’s hard and wanting, with only my voice and this moment to touch.
On-screen, Mr. Grey has his wife bent over now, her teeth sunk into a bite guard while he works a dildo into her ass with slow, practiced rhythm.
It’s theatrical, over-the-top, the kind of porn that makes people roll their eyes, but that’s not what’s got my clit tingling and my nipples tightening.
It’s Seth. On the other end of the line. Breathing harder.
“Are you turned on, Soul?” he asks, voice low and hoarse, eyes pinned to mine through the screen.
“Yeah,” I breathe.
“Show me.”
I angle the phone downward, nestling it under the covers so he has a perfect view of my fingers circling my clit.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Keep doing that. Keep the camera right there.”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Stroking myself.”
“Because of the Grey’s?”
“No. Because of your pussy. The way you sound when you’re turned on. I just know it’s soaked for me. I’m stroking myself because of you. I wish you were here.”
A soft, breathy laugh escapes me as I continue to tease myself and circle my clit, my gaze flicking from the show to the tiny box on my screen where his face is strained. The veins in his neck flex, his mouth falling open as he watches me.
“Put two fingers inside your cunt,” he commands.
I obey, sliding them inside my pussy. They glide easily, my body clenching around them instantly.
“That’s it, Soul. Fuck—wish I was in there instead. Why the hell are we apart again?”
“You need your sleep,” I whisper, even though I know that’s not the real reason.
The truth sits heavy in my chest. His hamstring.
His game tomorrow. His career. If he plays poorly tomorrow, if he’s distracted because I spent the night, if he gives my dad and Coach Steele any reason to doubt him, he will be traded, and I’d lose him and Sawyer.
This late-night distraction could cost him everything.
“I’d throw it all away for you,” he says suddenly, voice stripped of playfulness.
My fingers go still.
“Seth. I don’t ever want you to give up hockey for me.”
“I know. But I would.”
On-screen, Mr. Grey is on his back now, and Mrs. Grey is bouncing on his cock, her large tits swaying, her head tossed back while she talks to him about her day like this is a normal way for them to catch up.
I hear something about laundry, yoga, dinner for the kids.
It’s a casual conversation between two married people.
It’s safe and wholesome. Well, as wholesome as it can be.
He’s looking up at her, like she’s the moon and he’s an astronaut.
That’s the part I’m addicted to. The realness of it.
The love. The emotional intimacy underneath all that heat.
Somehow, they’ve found a way to make the absolute mundane activities that we all do, the stressful moments that come with having kids and managing a household, beautiful, romantic and sexy.
That’s what I want. I want the heat of passionate sex, and I want the romance of an evening spent in, cuddled up, doing chores and cooking meals together.
“You want this,” he says simply. “I want this, too” he murmurs, eyes boring into the screen even though he can’t see my face since I have the screen angled under the sheets. “I never thought I was much of a romantic ‘til I met you. Now I know I like being in love.”
He doesn’t say the words outright, but they’re there. Hanging between us, thick and full and real. Seth loves me. I draw in a breath as I press into myself harder. I love Seth, too.
“I don’t want to spend another night apart. This is torture.”
I wet my lips, breathe shallow as I start to sweep my fingers inside me. The pressure builds fast, like it always does when he says something that’s vulnerable.
“I know.”
“Good. Then this is the last night.” He groans.
“Okay.”
“Fuck, just like that, baby.” His eyes flutter closed and I know he’s close.
“Let me see you,” I beg.
He flips the camera around and angles it toward his cock.
He’s huge and hard. A slight curve to the left and thick in his palm.
His tip glistens, his hand wrapped tight, stroking with purpose.
He’s leaking, the swollen head flushed dark and wet, and I feel my orgasm coil fast in my pelvis, sharp and dizzying.
He’s watching me. Watching me watching him. And then I see it—that perfect, electric moment when his body tenses and jerks, cum spilling down his fist and onto his stomach and thighs.
It’s enough. I gasp his name and come, thighs shaking, breath catching on a moan I barely manage to swallow. It’s the hardest I’ve ever come because of how I feel—because of him, of us, of everything unsaid between the lines of what was said.
I work my clit slower, chasing the tremors down as he lets out a long, shaky sigh, jerking himself one last time before collapsing back against his pillow.
His heavy cock rests against his stomach, and then he spins the camera around to show his face.
His eyelids are heavy; lips parted like he’s still catching his breath.
“I’ll see you before the game tomorrow. Remember what you agreed to. This is the last night we’re spending apart. We’re doing this. You and me.”
I nod, unable to trust my voice. My body’s still humming, my mind still spinning from everything we just said.
“I’ll see you then,” I whisper, and the screen goes dark.
And I’m left in the quiet, my chest aching in the most beautiful, terrifying way.