Epilogue
Laura’s phone won’t stop buzzing.
Two months as Covey's official anthem singer, and she's got agents, producers, and half the sports media in the state calling her, but right now, with her warm and soft body pressed against mine in nothing but my jersey, I don't give a fuck who wants her attention.
She's all mine for the next hour.
Her warm, soft body shifts when I slide my fingers along the inside of her thigh, and even though her eyes are closed, her legs part for me, letting me know exactly what she wants.
I push the jersey higher, exposing more skin just as she gives me this sleepy, needy little sound that goes straight to my already hard dick.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
“You should probably check that,” I murmur against her neck, dragging my lips across her throat as I draw lazy circles with my fingers at the top of her thighs.
Do I want her to get it? No, of course not. What with our busy schedules, the only time I get to see her is at my games when she’s getting ready to sing or in our English literature class when we argue over every main character we’ve ever read.
Selfishly, I miss the days when we were sneaking around in the rink.
“I don’t care,” she whispers, purposely shifting her hips back into me, grinding her perfect ass into me. “I want you.”
“Oh, yeah?” I smirk against her skin. I feel her shiver as my fingers travel higher. She’s not wearing any underwear. I made sure of it last night when she showed up and got on my knees for her. “What do you want first, Princess? My cock, or my fingers? Because you’re getting both.”
Her head falls back onto my chest. Her eyes are still closed, but there’s this small, placid smile on her face. I watch her lips just as my fingers graze her clit. It’s a whisper of a touch, one that’s almost so light, she might not notice it.
She moans. Yup, she noticed.
“I just want you, Scotty,” she says as her hand reaches up behind her so she can thread her fingers through my hair.
Fuck, I love the way her nails feel when they scrape across my scalp.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Her hips tilt toward my fingers, begging me to play. So, I do.
I rest my fingers on her slit before moving down. “Fuck, you’re already soaked.”
She answers with a soft hum as I move my fingers through her slick heat. I kiss her cheek. “Were you thinking about me while you were sleeping?”
Another whimper instead of responding with anything coherent. I get it. Whenever she’s touching my cock, I find it hard to think straight too.
I dip my fingers lower, gathering more of her wetness, deliberately teasing her by touching around her clit.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
She lets out this tiny, frustrated sound that makes me grin against her skin. “Don’t tease me,” she says just as her hips shift against my cock. She’s one to talk.
“Oh, Princess, I’m gonna tease you until you’re begging so loud the person blowing up your phone knows you’re too busy getting fucked to answer.”
That’s when she pulls on my hair. Hard.
Circling her clit lightly with my thumb, I keep my fingers just out of reach. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
“I want your fingers inside me,” she whispers, her voice wrecked, her thighs shaking with need. “Please, Scotty. I need them. I need you.”
“As you wish.”
I slide my fingers into her—two of them, slow at first so I can feel every breath she takes as she adjusts around me. Fuck, she’s wet, tight, and gripping me like she never plans on letting go. Her back arches, as a soft cry spills out of her.
It’s so freaking hot, I have to press my teeth into her skin just to stop myself from moaning too loudly.
Her pussy clenches just as I curl my fingers, stroking her from the inside.
“Oh my god.” She lets out this wrecked, broken moan that shoots straight through me. I ease my thumb down to her clit, circling slowly, deliberately, while my fingers thrust harder inside her.
“Scotty…” She’s shaking now, her thighs trembling around my hand. “I’m—I’m close—”
The moment those words leave her mouth, I pull my fingers out of her.
She gasps, and her hips buck helplessly at the loss.
“Shhh,” I murmur against her neck, gripping her hip to hold her still when she tries to chase my hand. “I’m not stopping. I just want to feel you around me when you come.”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I guide her forward just an inch, so her ass presses against my hips instead of my hand. My cock fits right between her thighs from behind, sliding across her slit as I coat myself in her wetness.
She tilts her hips higher just as I press forward and slip into her in one slow, perfect thrust. Her pussy pulls me in. Tight, wet, and unreal.
I wrap my arm around her waist, hold her tight, and slide my other hand right back between her thighs and find her clit to play with her.
“Scotty—”
“Yeah,” I rasp, thrusting into her while my fingers circle her clit. “You’re gonna come on my cock this time, Princess, and I’m gonna feel every fucking second of it.”
Her thighs tighten around my hand as I thrust again. I’m slow at first because I like to take my time and feel how perfectly she fits around me, but it never lasts long.
Especially when she’s this close.
Her chest rises, her head falls back, and when I feel the little flutters around my cock, I know she’s there.
She calls out my name just as her pussy clenches around me, gripping me so tight I have to brace my hand on her hip to keep from losing control. My fingers work her clit in tight circles, in sync with my thrusts, every movement sending little shivers through her.
She’s still shaking around me, trembling through the aftershocks, her pussy fluttering with every tiny movement I make, and I swear to god I can feel every pulse of it.
“Fuck…” I groan against her shoulder, tightening my arm around her waist. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She’s so wet, so warm, still gripping me even as she melts into my chest. I try to breathe through it, try to hold it together, but it’s hard to do when her pussy pulses with every thrust.
“You feel—” I choke on my own breath, hips stuttering, “—so fucking good. I can’t—fuck—I can’t.”
I lose it.
I thrust into her once, slow and deep, and my voice breaks.
“Fuck—Princess—”
I spill into her in hard, pulsing waves, clutching her tight against me as my release hits, every muscle straining with it.
I ride it out against her skin, panting, shaking, still kissing her shoulder, her neck, any place my mouth can reach. My hips finally slow, then stop, but I stay inside her, holding her close, breathing her in.
I ease out of her carefully, kissing her shoulder before I slide out of bed. “Don’t move,” I whisper, brushing her thigh. “I’ve got you.”
She makes a soft, sleepy sound as I head to the bathroom. I run a washcloth under warm water, wring it out, and come back to the bed where she’s curled on her side in my shirt.
She keeps her eyes closed as I gently clean her up and then toss the cloth into my laundry basket.
Once I’m done, I pull the blanket up over both of us and settle behind her.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I sigh into her neck. “Who the hell keeps calling? Is it your parents? Are they still coming tonight?”
“They’re coming, but it isn’t them.” She exhales, embarrassed. “It’s just my agent.”
Yeah. My girlfriend has an agent now. After the second performance of the national anthem, she started to get so many calls, she needed someone to vet opportunities for her. Hence why I relish every moment I can get with her now.
“What does she want this time?” I brush my thumb along her waist. “The Catfish aren’t looking for a new singer during the stretch are they?”
“No.” She shrugs and snuggles deeper into me, her cheek resting right over my heartbeat. “A couple of Broadway producers want to talk through an opportunity. I figured I’d wait until after your game today to look at it.”
“You’re kidding? You’re ignoring Broadway?”
She sighs. “No. I’m just protecting what’s important to me right now, and that’s honoring my commitments with the Covey Crushers.”
Something warm spreads through my chest—pride, love, all of it tangled up. I slide my hand to her hip and pull her back against me, kissing the corner of her cheek, slow and lingering.
“Princess,” I murmur against her skin, “I am so fucking proud of you. You know that, right?”
She turns her head just enough to meet my eyes, hers soft in the dim light. “Yeah,” she whispers, touching my jaw. “And I’m proud of you too.”
I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, just watching her—my girl, in my jersey, in my bed, in my life. For a second, we just stay there, wrapped up in each other, the whole day waiting for us on the other side of the door.
Different worlds. Different dreams, but somehow, we’re able to do this together.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Her phone is still going, reminding us that we can’t stay here like this forever. “We should probably get ready,” I say quietly, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “Big game today.”
She lifts her eyes to mine, soft and certain. “Yeah. I’ve gotta get to the rink for sound check.”
I lace my fingers with hers, give her a gentle squeeze. “Guess it’s our big day then.”
Her smile answers mine. “Ours,” she repeats.
We get out of bed hand in hand, ready to step into whatever comes next—side by side, the way it’ll always be now.
The final note rings out across the arena, and for a moment, there's perfect silence.
Then the crowd erupts.
I stand at center ice with the microphone in my hand and let the sound wash over me. Five thousand people on their feet, cheering for me. For my voice. For what I can do.
It never gets old.
Turning on the red carpet, I start to head off the ice, passing both teams on either side. When I pass Scotty, I give him a wink, making him grin.
He taps his stick against the ice: a motion that’s become our signal.
I mouth “good luck” before I head off the ice and through the locker room.
As I move through the arena hallway, I nearly collide with two familiar figures.
“Laura, sweetheart!”