Chapter 19
A GIFT FROM THE HOCKEY GUYS
Trina
In the morning, I get ready for work quietly so I don’t wake the sleeping athletes. It’s game day—well, night—for both of them, and I want them to have their rest. I tiptoe to the kitchen.
I’m as fast as can be as I whip up pancakes and slice strawberries, then leave them on a plate, along with instructions for heating up the stack on a pink sheet of paper I ripped off from a notebook in my purse.
Don’t fight over the pancakes, guys. I made enough for both of you. Now, go work out hard and play harder tonight. And don’t forget, strawberries make everything better.
PS: I’m thinking #4 on the list sounds good. Maybe soon?
Then, I tell them what number four is.
I head to the door with Nacho leashed up and ready to rumble at doggie daycare, but before I reach it, a voice still gravelly with sleep calls out gruffly to me, “Where are you sneaking off to with that cutie?”
My heart thumps from the affectionate term for my dog.
I swivel around. Chase’s a snack and a half.
His hair is beyond disheveled, all golden brown and messy in the morning light.
His stubble’s a day thicker. He must not have shaved yesterday.
He scratches his jaw as he strides across the hardwood floors, all backlit from the windows, looking like scrumptious morning sin as he comes up to me at the door, then bends and scratches Nacho’s head.
“Well, I was leaving for work a little early so I could take him to doggy daycare,” I say. “I have an author coming in for a signing this morning, so I figured it’d be easier if Nacho went to Throw Me A Bone.”
Slowly Chase rises, cocking his head, one brow arched. Clearly that doesn’t compute for him. “Um, no.”
“No…what?”
“No, you’re not taking him to doggy daycare.” He’s as commanding as he is in bed, and the tone is dangerous for me to hear first thing in the morning. I’ll be ordering new panties before sundown.
But I focus on the conversation, not my reaction to his voice.
“Why?” I ask, letting the word stretch out because I’m really not getting his meaning.
He points his thumb at his bare chest. “I’m doggy daycare.
I want to help with your dog. I’m free for the next several hours,” he says with a lopsided grin.
“Coach stopped morning skate this season, so I don’t have to head to the arena until the early afternoon.
So if that works out for you, I’d really like to spend the morning with Nacho.
If you must know, we made plans already. ”
We.
He’s talking about my dog the same way I do.
Dear god. My heart is thundering stupidly fast. Yes, it’s just an offer to take care of my dog, but it’s also the way to my bruised heart. “Sure,” I say, with a smile. “I’d really appreciate that. But what are your plans?”
He closes the remaining distance. “Don’t you worry about that,” he says, then curls a hand around my head and presses a stubbly kiss to my cheek.
Mmm. That tone of voice is definitely doing its thing. “Since I don’t have to rush to doggy daycare now, I suppose I can say thank you properly,” I say, lifting my chin and meeting his naughty gaze.
The man reads me instantly, since his eyes darken, and he erases his grin, replacing it with a stern expression. “Get down on your knees like a good girl.”
I obey, then part my lips seductively, opening for him, waiting. He takes out his cock, then pushes my hair from my face and slides a thumb along my jawline. “I almost hate to mess up your lipstick. But I’m going to do it anyway.”
Once I draw him into my mouth, he continues to lavish me with praise and dirty words. “That’s right. That’s a proper thank you.”
I take him deeper and he fucks my mouth mercilessly, till his groans get longer, telling me he’s close.
I steal a glance at my dog, and the perv is staring up at Chase like he’s tapping an annoyed paw and saying can you move it along.
But that’s better than trying to hump Chase’s leg while I finish him. I give a deep suck, then Chase floods my throat with a strangled grunt.
And I spoke too soon.
My randy dog has wrapped his arms around Chase’s calf and is doing the doggy dance. I swat my dog away as Chase eases out of my mouth with a laugh.
I jerk my gaze to the dog. “Couch. Now. Go sit.”
Like he wasn’t the paragon of perv, Nacho trots away, tail wagging.
Once my pooch is curled up on the couch, Chase looks down at me with a sexy smirk. “Your multitasking with simultaneous dog training and BJ finishing deserves a reward.”
“A peanut butter biscuit?”
“Better,” he says, then hauls me up, spins me around, and pushes me against the door. He yanks up my sundress, tugs down my panties, and squeezes my ass.
“I bet more spanking is on your list after the other night,” he says huskily.
I shiver. “It is.”
He kneads my right cheek, soft, gentle, a little tantalizing, before he lifts a hand and smacks.
I gasp. Then I moan when he rubs his palm over me tenderly again, smoothing out the sting. He does the same to my other cheek, and when he raises his hand again, I tense but with delicious anticipation. His palm comes down harder this time. I moan again.
“Remember when you said you just had unreasonable expectations in bed?” he whispers in my ear. “The night we met you?”
“Yes.”
He brushes his lips across my ear. “You should have unreasonable expectations. So we can exceed every single one of them.”
God. Yes. “News flash. You are. Oh, and I learned I like spanking.”
Yup. That’s another kink I’ll toss into my big box of bedroom quirks. I’m gonna need a bigger boat for my fantasies.
“Good,” he says, then squeezes my ass again. “Mmm. This ass. I want to play with it, Trina.”
He hasn’t even seen my note yet, but he’s clearly eager for number four. Me too, since the only way I’ll be able to climb the double dick mountain is with a little booty action beforehand. Hence, number four—butt play.
“You should then. Soon,” I say, encouraging him.
“The things we’ll do to you next time,” he says, and I love that we. Love that he talks dirty to me about their plans for me as he plays with my clit while smacking my ass, then pinching my nipples till I’m melting and breaking apart before work.
I’m still gasping for air when he brushes a tender kiss to my lips. “Love your ground rules. Make sure to take care of my buddy sometime too,” he says.
“You looking out for your friend’s dick?”
“I’m thoughtful like that.”
You know, he really is. And since he mentions Ryker, that reminds me. “There’s something you can help me with for Ryker.”
“Name it,” Chase says.
I tell him what I need. “Can you send it sometime today?”
“I’m on it,” he says, then I kiss him back, a buzzy, druggy kiss that’s dangerous. It could lead to skipping work and lazing away the day. So I break it. I’m not such a hot mess that I’d miss work.
I am, however, a hot mess in other ways, so before I head to the store, I brush my teeth and change my panties.
* * *
That afternoon, I’m leaving the bookstore when Chase sends me a picture of Nacho sitting on a chair staring longingly at a latte—presumably—next to a guy who looks a lot like Chase.
Chase: Took Nacho out for coffee with my little brother this morning. Travis tried to use your dog as a lady magnet, but I said nope. Travis has to learn to be charming on his own.
Trina: Such a good big brother. Teaching him important life lessons.
Chase: You’ll be pleased to know Nacho didn’t try to hump Travis’s leg. So…maybe that’s progress for him?
Trina: Or perhaps your brother doesn’t have a humpable leg.
Chase: Fair point. My calf might just be very fuckable. But I’m concerned your dog might be trying to recruit a third guy into our night-time crew, Trina. He was pretty excited when the UPS driver showed up to drop off a delivery of protein powder right after you left.
Trina: Please say he didn’t try to make little leg babies with the delivery guy?
Chase: He’s easing him in with tongue first. He licked his leg rather than mated with it.
Trina: So…we keep proving the fuckable-ness of most legs.
Chase: You and your fancy words.
As I turn onto California Street, heading to my temporary quarters, my phone pings again.
This time, though, it’s Ryker. Well, this is like the double jackpot text day.
I open it, but there’s no message. Just a link to a Scrabble game.
Bring it on. I hit accept. A minute later, he’s made the first move.
Latex.
Trina: Show off.
Ryker: That implies I only played that word to peacock in front of you.
Trina: You did.
Ryker: I play to win.
Trina: Well, Mister Competitive I’ve got…
I play the word…moxie.
Ryker: Yes, you do.
We vie a little more, then the group chat pings, the one I’ve so cleverly named The Hockey Guys At Your Service.
I open it as I reach Chase’s block.
Ryker: Placing an online order. Do you need anything from the store?
Trina: Hardware store? Shoe store? Toy shop?
Ryker: Hardware store, Trina. I’m ordering from the hardware store.
Trina: Oh, I love tools. A lot.
Chase: She definitely doesn’t need a hammer though.
Ryker: She has access to two already.
Trina: But can you order me some screws? It’ll help me with some items on my to-do list.
Chase: Fixed your last text for you.
He sends back a screenshot that changes the last word to screwing.
Trina: Actually, please make it a nailing.
Ryker: That’s a step above a screwing.
Chase: And right below a pounding. Pretty sure that’s on your list.
Trina: Why, yes it is. Then ideally, some avocado sushi later.
Ryker: Order accepted for everything.
* * *
That night, while I’m lounging on Chase’s couch with my main squeeze, and finishing a romance for this week’s book club, there’s a food delivery, but no chance for leg babies.
Nacho stays on the sofa. I take the bags and thank the guy.
Back inside, I unload some scrumptious groceries.
Eggs and strawberries, blueberries and yummy bread, veggies and noodles.
It’s a feast. The best part though is when the doorbell rings a few minutes later and a delivery guy from Ding and Dine drops off fresh avocado sushi.
And a note.
From the hockey guys.
It’s delicious, but the thought tastes even better. So good in fact that I turn on the last few minutes of some hockey. But when the game ends, one guy will likely come home tense and tight. The other exuberant.
* * *
Ryker is home first from his game, but I’m only half awake when he slides into bed.
“Saw you won,” I say sleepily.
“We did.”
“And you played well,” I add.
He chuckles as he nuzzles my neck. “How do you even know?”
“Hey, I’m a fast learner,” I say.
“Are you a hockey expert now like you’re a lexiphile?”
I roll my eyes at the ridiculous word. “Like I said, you’re such a show-off.”
He drops a soft kiss to my shoulder. “You like word show-offs.”
“Also, how do you even know the word for word lover?” Then I shake my head, answering the question myself. “One of your word podcasts.”
“Yes,” he says. “It’s called…wait for it…Lexiphiles.”
“Then impress me with some word thing you learned on the Lexiphiles podcast.”
In a raspy voice, he whispers, “Lexiphiles rhymes with sexiphiles.”
“Is that even a word?”
“I think the term for that is just horndog.”
I laugh, then it turns into a yawn.
“Go to sleep,” he says softly.
It’s sweet, the way he doesn’t push for sex, just like it’s sweet how he lowers his guard with me when the lights are down.
“I will, but how’s Chase?” I ask, a little worried since his team lost. Will he want to fuck it out or does he shut down after a loss?
I’ve only seen him after a win—the other night.
Ryker’s team lost that game on Friday, and he was moody.
Then again, I think he was moody because he didn’t want to entertain a VIP guest. Maybe they’ve been doing this long enough that they let the losses roll off them.
Ryker’s quiet for a beat, then in a resigned voice, he says, “In a bit of a funk. I ran into him outside. He’s going for a walk.”
My brow knits. “Is that what he does when his team loses?”
“Sometimes. He just beats himself up so much.”
“Does he need anything?”
Ryker shakes his head. “To stop beating himself up,” he says with a heavy sigh.
I sigh too. “I hope he does.”
“Me too.”