Chapter 5 Brody
FIVE
brODY
I’ve died and gone to heaven.
Maybe it’s hell, because I’m sure there will be consequences to all of this, but I really don’t give a shit.
I can’t bring myself to care when Hannah is blinking up at me with pretty eyes and asking me to fuck her.
I put a hand on the back of her head, tracing her jaw with my knuckles. “Glad to know having my cock in your mouth is the way to keep you from insulting my age.”
Her grin is coy when she tilts her head to the side and swirls her tongue over the head. I groan, my restraint splitting in half when she scratches her nails down the front of my thighs.
I’d love to finish in her mouth. I’d love to see my cum on her lips and watch her swallow it down. Or maybe on her chest, decorating her tits. I blow out a breath knowing there’s no way in hell I’m going to be satisfied with having her just one time.
“There are other ways to keep me quiet.” Hannah touches my balls again, and my groan turns wild. I grip her hair so tightly I’m sure I’m hurting her, but she doesn’t complain. “I want you inside me, Brody.”
“Last time you were tested?” I ask, trying to be responsible. We need to have this conversation before we do anything else. Before she obliterates all of my brain cells.
“Recently, and everything came back negative. I haven’t been with anyone since. I’m also on birth control.”
“Me too. Negative. No one since.” I pull out of her mouth and reach for the bedside table.
I almost knock over a glass of water when I tug on the drawer, grabbing the box of condoms she mentioned and ripping it open.
Foil packets go everywhere. I hold one up, my eyes meeting hers.
“I need to hear you say you want me to fuck you, Hannah.”
“Brody.” She sits up, legs open wider, and I can’t miss the wet spot on her sheets she left behind after her orgasm. I swear I’m going to think about the sounds she makes when she comes for the rest of my life. “I want you so badly. Don’t you want me?”
“Yeah.” My voice cracks. “What—how—” I swallow. “Tell me your favorite position.”
“I like being on top,” Hannah says. She pats the pillows, switching places with me. “For round two, maybe you can fuck me from behind.”
“A second round is optimistic. I have a feeling you’re going to be the death of me.” I adjust my position, stretching out on her bed and reaching for her. “Come here.”
She moves, straddling me. Her thighs press against mine, and I sigh. Her body is warm and soft and perfect. I put a hand on her waist, my thumb running over her hip bone. Hannah hovers above me, then lowers herself slightly, the ultimate tease.
“It’s, ah, been a while for me.” My grip on her tightens when she leans forward to kiss my cheek. One lift of my hips and I’d be buried in her. How fucking reckless. “No judging.”
“I’d never judge my elders. That’s disrespectful,” she whispers, gasping when I give her clit a light tap. “Brody.”
“I might need to take you over my knee.” My hands move to her ass, cupping both round cheeks. Her muscles are solid from years of being an athlete, and she has the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen. “Would you like that?”
“Maybe I would, Daddy,” she teases, whining when I give her ass a hard smack.
“You can’t say that to me.”
“Why? Because you like it too much?”
I grind my teeth when she lowers herself another inch. There’s almost no space between us. “Hannah.”
“I want to feel you.”
“You can’t feel me?” I give in to temptation and lift my hips, close to losing myself entirely when the head of my cock pushes past her pussy lips. “Do you feel me now?”
“You’re so big, Brody. I want you to fuck me and—” Hannah pulls her mouth away from my neck. I rub a hand up her back, grabbing some of her hair. “Is that your phone?”
I blink, yanked out of the trance she’s put me in by the sound of my ringtone echoing down the hall. “Shit. Yeah. I think it is. I’m sorry. I hate to be the dickbag who pays more attention to his phone than to you, but I need to check it. It could be Olivia or her mom letting me know—”
“Don’t apologize. Family first.” She smiles and climbs off me. My eyes rake down her body, and I have to stroke myself when she holds up a foil square. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“Two seconds.”
I kiss her forehead and almost sprint down the hall, ignoring the twinge in my knee.
My daughter left the arena with Kali, my ex, after the game, but they both know my phone is always on.
I never consider the days I don’t have custody a childfree time, and if Olivia needs me, she has my full attention.
I grab the phone off the table where I left it in the living room and roll my eyes at the name on the screen. I silence the noise and walk back to Hannah’s room, tossing it on the pile with my clothes.
“Not important. Just my drunk captain calling me.”
“You’re not going to answer it?”
“Why? So I can hear him sing some terrible karaoke song?” I climb back on the bed. Run a hand up her leg, squeezing when I get to her hip. “He called five other times, which tells me he’s plastered. I’m not dealing with that.”
“What would be your karaoke song?” Hannah hisses when I push a finger inside her. “Something dark and gloomy, I bet.”
“You’d never catch me doing karaoke.” My phone rings again. I look over my shoulder and Maverick’s name flashes across the screen a second time. “You know what? I’m not going to wait to kick Miller’s ass. I’m going by his house first thing in the morning with a marching band.”
“Just answer it, Brody. You can tell them to fuck off, then you can fuck me.”
I can’t help but smile when she sticks out her bottom lip in a pout. Another call comes through. This time, it’s Hudson.
“That’s a tempting argument,” I say.
“Here. I’ll do it for you. They’re probably so drunk they won’t recognize my voice.”
“Be my guest.”
I hand over my phone and Hannah answers it, just as I push another finger inside her.
“Brody’s phone.” She gasps, a hand on my wrist. “Can I help you?”
I don’t hear what’s being said on the other end of the line, but I can tell something is wrong. Hannah freezes. She moves her hand to my shoulder, tapping me. I look at her, watching her palm shake as she shoves the phone in my direction.
“What?” I ask.
“This sounds important.”
The thing they don’t tell you about being a coach is how you assume the role of big brother or father figure to the guys on your team. There is glitz and glamour and all the good stuff that comes with winning, but you’re also the one they turn to when something goes wrong.
I’ve been there for the death of parents. Divorce announcements and guy’s wives miscarrying.
There’s no manual or guide for empathy, and you figure out how to navigate the heavy shit as you go. Balancing being a human while also being a professional athlete is hard, and I know firsthand it never ends up how you want.
I sit on the edge of the bed and take the phone, pressing it to my ear.
“This better be really fucking good,” I bark out.
“Coach?” Hudson croaks, and my spine straightens. “Is that you?”
“Hayes. What’s wrong?”
There’s a long pause, and I’m fearing the worst.
He’s the most responsible one on the team. I count on him to keep the guys in line when I’m not around, but I remember the day I found him in the locker room when his mom passed away. The blank stare he gave me when I helped him to his feet and the way he crumbled in my arms.
I hope to god nothing happened to his dad.
“Riley,” he says.
“Riley? Riley Mitchell?” I ask, mentioning my star defenseman.
“He was in an accident.”
“What do you mean an accident?”
“A car accident,” Hudson says, and my knees buckle.
“What?” I collapse to the ground, a hand over my mouth. My heart stops beating. “When? How?”
“In his Uber on the way home from the club. The driver called Maverick and—” There’s a wail from his end of the line, and my body moves without me directing it. I stand and fumble with my clothes, grabbing anything I can find. “They aren’t sure he’s going to make it.”
“Where are you?” I put on my shirt and yank my jeans up my legs. I’m trying not to panic, but bile creeps its way up my throat. My head pounds, excruciating pain radiating across my temples. “I need a hospital name, Hudson.”
“MedStar. Georgetown. We just got here and—”
“Be there in twenty.”
I hang up. Silence hangs in the room, and I press the heels of my palms into my eyes.
“Brody?” Hannah touches my shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“Riley was in an accident.” My voice is flat, monotone. I lift my chin to look at her, the hazy outline of her shape blurred by my tears. “They aren’t sure if he’s going to make it.”
“Oh my god.” She scrambles to grab a blanket, wrapping it around her body. “Is he—of course he’s not okay. I’m so sorry.”
Guilt grips me so tight, I struggle to breathe.
I want to ask how the fuck I missed their earlier calls.
I want to figure out why I didn’t hear the phone ring the other five times, but the answer is obvious.
I was too distracted. Too caught up in Hannah and ignoring my responsibilities when I should’ve stayed at the club.
I should’ve been the one to make sure all my guys got home safe, but I left the second a beautiful woman gave me her attention.
I gave in too quickly. I acted too stupidly, and now one of my players is in a hospital fighting for his life.
I should’ve been there to answer the fucking phone.
I could’ve stopped it. I could’ve told Riley to wait and take a different car. I could’ve fucking driven him.
“I need to get to the hospital.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“It’s better if you don’t.” I’m numb. The room is spinning. “There would be questions about why we’re there together. Questions I don’t want to answer.”
“Can I do anything to help?” she whispers.