Chapter Twenty
Twenty
Jack
We won our fourth game against Dallas on their turf, and by those standards I should be over the moon, which I am, to a degree.
It’s just that Coach took me out after the first period because of a particularly rough hit into the boards, and for the remaining two periods, I had to sit on the sidelines with my thumb up my ass, wishing I could be more helpful.
We won by one point again, and the game being so close still feels like a direct result of my inability to have more ice time.
Which I suppose might seem bigheaded, but in reality, it’s just my guilt talking.
The rest of the guys went out to celebrate after, but I just wasn’t feeling it.
Truth be told, the only thing I could imagine doing was talking to Abby, which would alarm me if I weren’t so fucking enamored with her.
The last few weeks have been a rush of kisses and touches and whisperings of the promise of more—and with every moment I spend with her, I find myself only wanting more.
It’s becoming a bit of a problem. Not to mention the fact that she seems to be the only thing that can pull me out of my mood when I’m feeling like this.
We’ve been texting back and forth for the last several minutes, and already it’s enough to make me feel better.
Almost like I can hear her voice through the screen.
I don’t really expect much when I shoot her the flirty what are you wearing text, so when she texts back for me to FaceTime her and find out, I slam the call button so fast, I nearly break my finger.
Her face on the screen is like a breath of fresh air, making all the worry and stress I’ve carried from tonight’s game seem to melt away when she gives me that small smile of hers.
“Hey,” she says.
I notice the shirt she’s wearing, feeling a stirring between my legs because she looks damn good in my clothes.
The shirt is so big on her that it almost falls off one of her shoulders, and just that peek of bare skin is enough to have me leaning in closer to the screen, almost as if I might be able to reach out and taste her through it.
“Someone really missed me,” I tease.
She shrugs that same bare shoulder. “Like I said, maybe a little.”
“You look better in my clothes than I do,” I tell her.
She bites her lower lip. “You think so?”
“You’d look better out of them though.”
She arches a brow. “Are you trying to get me naked?”
“Just to be clear,” I say seriously, “I am always trying to get you naked.”
“Tell me about the game,” she urges, shaking her head at me.
“Can’t believe you didn’t watch,” I tut.
She rolls her eyes. “You know I have no idea what’s going on. Besides, I promised Christine I would come visit.”
“And how did that go?”
“It was…good,” she says carefully. “We had a good talk.”
“Mm, about me?”
“Why do you think everything is about you?”
“I just like to pretend that you’re always thinking about me.”
“If your head got any bigger, it would need its own platform just to stay up.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
“Stop stalling and tell me how the game went.”
I frown. “Coach took me out after the first period.”
“Shit,” she says. “I’m sorry. How do you feel about it?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I mean, we won, so I’m happy about that, but it was close. Too close. It didn’t feel great having to sit on the sidelines and do nothing but watch.”
“Did you hurt yourself?”
I roll my wrist, noting the stiffness there, but ultimately shake my head. “It feels okay. I just took a bad hit at the end of the period, and Coach didn’t want to take any chances.”
“I mean, that’s probably for the best,” she hedges.
“I guess so.”
She must note the bitterness in my tone, because she gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry that he took you out.”
“It’s whatever,” I answer, not wanting to talk about it anymore. “I notice you didn’t confirm or deny whether or not you and Christine talked about me.”
She chuckles softly. “You might have come up.”
“Did you tell her I’m the most spectacular lover you’ve ever had?”
“I absolutely did not tell her that, no.”
“Bummer.”
“I really hope you’re alone in your room right now,” she says with narrowed eyes.
I turn my phone so she can see the empty room around me, bringing it back to my face as I flash her a grin. “It’s just you and me, baby.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about ‘baby’ either.”
“Keep it up and all that will be left for me to call you is ‘sugar tits.’ ”
“If you want to continue touching them, I would advise against it.”
“What if I wanted to see them?”
Her brows shoot up, her cheeks pinkening. “Now?”
“Mm. I mean, always, but…yes. Now.”
I watch the flush spread from her face down to her neck, but she doesn’t look put off by it, no. Instead she looks…intrigued.
“That feels a little one-sided,” she notes.
I turn the phone to show her the bare expanse of my chest and legs, noting the soft sound she makes when she sees that I’m in nothing but my black boxer briefs as I lie on top of the covers.
“I am absolutely down with getting completely naked for you,” I tell her. “Just say the word.”
“None of that surprises me really.”
“It’s been killing me not to touch you these last couple days,” I admit.
Her eyes go hooded, her teeth worrying at the corner of her lower lip. “Yeah?”
“I haven’t thought about anything except you since we flew out.”
Her smile is slow—sensual, really—and I feel it all the way down to my cock.
“Hold that thought,” she says.
She leaves the frame for a second or more, and I can hear a rustling sound just out of view, but when she comes back, she’s still in my shirt.
“And here I thought you were going to take it off,” I tell her.
“And who says I didn’t?” she asks coyly.
She pans the phone down to give me a peek of her bare legs, my T-shirt just covering everything between them in a way that probably shouldn’t be as arousing as it is, but lights me the fuck up anyway.
I lean back into the pillows of the bed, tossing one arm over my head as I get comfortable. “And what did you take off?”
“Everything but your shirt,” she says, her voice a little huskier.
“Yeah?” I feel my cock starting to thicken in my boxer briefs as I imagine her pretty pussy bare and waiting for me underneath my shirt. “Fuck, I wish I were there.”
I can just notice her hand creeping out of the frame toward her thighs, and I watch as she throws herself back onto her own pillows. “And what would you do if you were here?”
“Anything you’d let me,” I practically pant. “Hands, tongue, cock…I’d touch you any way I could have you.”
“And if I told you I was touching myself and pretending it was you?” she asks breathily.
“Fuck, Abby. Please tell me you have a toy.”
Her eyes widen. “I do.”
“Get it. I want to see you work that pretty pussy for me.”
She makes a helpless noise, but then I see her roll to her side, rifling through her bedside table until she pulls out a purple toy that isn’t as big as I am, but just big enough for what I have in mind.
It’s not shaped like an actual cock, but it’s longer with a wider head.
Just wide enough to hit all those good spots inside her while I watch.
There’s a smaller attachment just above it, one that I assume is for working her clit.
“That’s perfect,” I hum. “Does it vibrate?”
She gives me a slow nod, her fair skin flushed fully pink now, like she’s either embarrassed or horribly turned on. I really hope it’s the latter.
“Are you wet for me, Abby?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s my good girl. Show me.”
Her lips form a small o. “Show you?”
“I want to see just how wet you are.”
She hesitates for a moment, long enough that I’m just about to tell her that she doesn’t have to do it, but then she’s inching up my T-shirt, tilting the phone down so I can see the soft juncture of her thighs where damp, blond curls rest. She parts her legs just enough that I can see slick, pink flesh between them, and in an instant, my cock goes from stiff to aching, pre-cum dripping from my tip and wetting the front of my boxer briefs.
“Fuck, Abby. Look at you. You’re fucking soaked for me. Aren’t you.”
“I wish you were here,” she admits quietly, so quietly it feels like a confession.
“Oh, baby,” I groan. “You have no idea what I’d do to you if I was there.”
“Tell me,” she whispers.
“Turn that toy on, and I’ll show you.”
Her hands are trembling slightly when she flicks the button that makes the toy start to hum with vibration, her lips parted as her breathing grows harsh enough for me to hear it through the phone speakers.
“Touch yourself, but don’t put it in yet,” I tell her. “I want you to tease that pretty little pussy for me first.”
“Jesus, Jack.”
Maybe they’re too much, the things I’m saying, but I can’t help it. Something about Abby makes me absolutely feral, and every time seems to be just a little bit better than the last. I’m fucking addicted to her, even when I can’t touch her.
The toy disappears from view, and I can tell when it finds its place between her legs. Her mouth opens just a little wider, her lashes fluttering as her wrist works just out of frame.
“Uh-uh,” I practically growl. “I want to see.”
She hesitates again. “Really?”
“Only if you’re okay with it,” I assure her. “I only want what you’re willing to give me.”
She seems to consider it, watching me through the camera lens as I drink in every bit of her my eyes can see.
I can tell when she makes the decision, a sort of fire in her eyes that I can almost feel burning from thousands of miles away.
The camera tilts, and then suddenly I feel on fire myself—unable to tear my eyes away from the purple head of the toy slicking its way through her wet folds, lingering at the apex where her clit is hidden away by her blond curls.
“Fuck, that’s it,” I breathe. “Just like that. Does it feel good?”
“It would feel better if you were doing it,” she tells me.
“I know it would. Except I wouldn’t give you a fucking toy. I’d be feeding that tight little cunt my cock.”