Chapter 9
TRICK
“Hey, turtle boy.” Van laughs as he passes by me and attempts to snap his towel at me. I’m not slow enough to let him catch me, and I give him the obligatory F-U finger. But I can’t blame him because I was fucking slow on the ice.
Slouched in a chair, wearing nothing but boxers, I’m not in a hurry to get into the shower, and I stifle a yawn. The locker room is busy, and none of the other guys seem to have my energy deficit problem.
Bog sits on the bench nearby. “You staying over again, or have you found a more comfortable bed?” He grins as he towels off.
“He looks like he needs a good bed right now,” Sully says from his locker next to Bog, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “Sluggish much? My Great Aunt Betty has more pep than you do—and she’s missing a leg.”
There’s enough balking at Sully’s comment for the missing leg TMI from my teammates, so I don’t feel a need to respond. Normally, I’d whip my towel at him—because I’m the best at it—to shut him up.
The problem is he’s right. And wrong. It’s not last night’s sleep or needing a good bed that’s getting to me; it’s commuting from home and trying to bridge the gap between my hockey team and my family, trying to be present and focused for both that’s killing me.
Now with Fifi in my life, well, shit, I feel like a psycho with a split personality. Or maybe too much like a dirt-bag leading two lives and lying to everyone. Even if I spilled the secret I’m holding, it wouldn’t solve anything. I’d still have a problem handling the split in my focus.
How can I give enough attention to hockey, my family, and Fifi? I’m not even counting schoolwork—which I damn well ought to count since I may need that degree in the long run. If hockey doesn’t work out, and if I have the nerve to tell Dad I don’t want to work in the fish business.
Maybe that’s the worst secret of all. My mind flips to Pop’s reaction when I tell him I can’t stomach the smell of fish, and I picture him running after me with a fat smelly haddock in one hand and a fish knife in the other. I shake the image from my head.
So far, only two people know about that dark and smelly secret: Bog and Fifi.
Standing, I grab a towel from my cubby, drop my shorts, and wrap the towel around my hips before my dick starts thinking about Fifi and gets any ideas. Then I escape to the shower.
“Nothing to say?” Sully calls after me. I hear Bog telling him to leave me alone.
Then an argument starts, but I don’t hear the fading words.
The exhaustion I feel right now, like someone pulled the plug in my gas tank and drained me dry, is past bone deep and past even what a banquet-sized meal or twenty-four hours of sleep can cure.
Letting the hot shower wash my invisible turmoil away, I relax, and my tension eases until the only turmoil left on my mind is Fifi.
After the team dinner in the facility’s dining room, I pick up my backpack and stand. “Gotta go, guys.” I’m the first one at our table to leave. Usually, I’m the last.
“Headed home?” Bog asks.
I nod because it’s easier than explaining that I may not be going straight home depending on what Fifi says when I text her. Or maybe I should call.
“See you in the morning.”
“Final practice before the B.C. game,” Sully says. “Make sure you’re well rested, Trick.” He levels a knowing stare at me, and I wonder if he’s a mind reader. But I shake it off. I’ll be fine. I can have a girlfriend if other guys can. Sully has a girlfriend, doesn’t he?
“You make sure you’re rested, Sully. You’re the one with the steady girl in your bed.”
Bog looks at me with raised brows like I’ve lost my mind. Van blows out a whistle.
Sully stands and steps into me. “My girlfriend is none of your business and has nothing to do with this. I’m not the one falling asleep during drills.”
“Fuck you. I yawned. Big fucking crime.” I shove my chair in and turn away because this conversation is over. As I walk to the door, I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I get outside, relieved that Sully didn’t follow me and punch me out. He could do it. He’s bigger.
I’m a bigger ass, though, and I might fight dirty if he tried, if he weren’t a decent guy and our fucking team captain. But that’s not why he’s leaving me alone. He doesn’t want to bruise the star player of the team, because we both know that’s who I am.
Up until now, I haven’t abused my status, haven’t thought of myself differently, and don’t want to go near that level of assholery. So why did I do it? Why did I get personal with him and call him out on his bullshit when he was doing his usual thing as captain?
Fifi. I have Fifi on my mind. I reach my car in the rink’s lot and hesitate. “Fuck.” I can’t let Sully get in my head. I pull my phone from my pocket and get in the car as I punch in Fifi’s number. She picks up after one ring.
“You up for a visitor this evening?”
“Why, of course, big boy—what’s your name?”
I laugh even while a rush of hot jealousy rears up from nowhere. “My name is your one-and-only.”
“Ooh. The Trick has a jealous streak. Don’t worry, lover-boy, you’re the only visitor to my bedroom.” Her voice soothes like honey and spikes my adrenaline like a siren call at the same time.
“You’re in a mood.” I want to ask her if I can stay the night, but I need to be patient and wait to be invited. She’s flirting shamelessly, but I know letting her take the lead is the right way to do this.
“I am.” She pauses, and my dick twitches with hope. “What are the chances you can stay all night tonight?”
With the rush of blood buzzing in my ears, I manage to remain cool enough to answer her without stuttering. Which is fucking wild. She has me so far off my game that I hardly recognize myself. “The chances are so good you can bet the house,” I rasp.
She laughs. “I’ll be waiting.”
“I’ll be there in ten.” Maybe five. But I don’t want her to think I’m too anxious.
This time when I knock on her back door, Fifi isn’t the only one waiting in the kitchen when I walk in.
“If it isn’t Trick with the playful dick,” Ricci says, grinning. I wink at her.
Fifi smacks her arm. “Don’t be rude.”
Ricci laughs. “I was teasing. Don’t worry, I’m on my way out. Nina’s meeting me at the Hop & Grind for a few beers. Maybe I’ll see you in the morning.” She gives me a sly look and a pat on the arm as she passes me on her way out the still-open door.
I can almost see her tongue wagging in preparation to gossip her heart out. As soon as the door closes behind her, Fifi takes me by the arm to her room.
“I’m sorry. Don’t pay attention to her. She won’t gossip about us. I made her promise.” A worry line streaks her forehead.
“It’s okay. Who’s she going to tell? Other students? It’s not like she’s going to call your parents and rat you out.”
“No. Ricci’s no problem, but my roommate Darcy is home, upstairs in her room. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not unless she has a key to your bedroom door.” I back her up to her bed as I kick her bedroom door closed behind us.
“No.” She laughs and bounces up, scooting around me. “But it would help if I locked the door.” She flips the lock and turns to me.
There’s something irresistibly sexy about a beautiful woman standing with her back against the door.
As if I need more instigation, the sight stirs my animal instincts until my dick comes fully to life, standing straight and tall.
Fifi, the star of my wet dreams for most of my misspent youth, is a special case, and without a conscious thought, I close in on her.
There’s more invitation than surprise in her eyes as we lock stares. When my body comes up against hers, I reflexively thrust my hips forward. My dick directs the action, and what it lacks in subtlety, it makes up for in pure passion.
Her arms come up around my neck, and her fingers spread through my hair as her plump breasts press against my chest, making my eyes almost roll back in my head with pure ecstasy.
“Trick, I think the time for waiting is done—”
My mouth dries up, and I struggle to keep my dick from taking control and spilling everything right this second. “Are you sure?” I force the unstable words, desperate for her answer.
“I’m so sure, Trick. I want to know you this way, the most intimate way possible, and I don’t know why I’m fighting it. I trust you more than anyone.”
Her words sound crazy. “More than your family?” Shit. What am I asking? And why the fuck am I asking her this now?
“You’re asking me this now? I trust you as much as I trust them.” She touches her hand to my face. “I’m right to trust you. You’re proving that by asking me if I’m ready.”
I take her face in my hands, my mouth hovering a breath from hers. “Tell me you’re sure.” My whisper wavers between harsh and hopeful.
“I’m sure. I want you here and now. No more waiting.” She closes the space between our mouths, and I wrap my hand in her hair, cupping her head, trying to keep myself from ravaging her mindlessly, trying not to lose my shit as I taste her lips and tease her tongue.
Whatever intentions I have to make our first time more tender than wild slip away as my other hand slides down to hold her ass and pull her hard against my over-excited dick.
She moans and slides her hands down my chest and around my back. “Your mouth is so perfect. No one’s kiss has ever felt this good, this passionate.”
Her words make me dizzy as my blood rages, swelling my dick and leaving me nearly unconscious with want. I want to tell her not to say those things, but how can I when I need more, more words, more of her mouth, more of everything from her? I grind my dick against her with painful need.
“Fifi…” I have no idea what to say next as I kiss her jaw, then nibble on the delicate soft skin of her earlobe, taking in the scent of her as I breathe raggedly, as if I’ve been holding my breath until now.
Maybe I have been. For years, I’ve wanted Fifi, and now I’m overwhelmed with having her. “I need to slow down.”
She whimpers.