Fourteen #2
Blaine leans forward, his tongue peeking out to swipe over his bottom lip. “Because believe me, Alex, when I get to taste you, once isn’t going to be enough.”
* * *
Our eyes flirt between mouthfuls of delicious food, allowing our imaginations to run wild after our heated conversation.
My dick settles down eventually, and I admit defeat after my twelfth taco. It lived up to the hype as the most amazing tacos I’ve ever tasted, and the side of guacamole, rice, and beans made my mouth water with every bite.
I relax back into my seat as Blaine, however, shoves more food into his mouth, and I’m amazed when he picks up what must be his twentieth taco.
He licks the tips of his fingers as he finishes chewing the last mouthful, then sits back in his seat with a groan, his hands holding his stomach. “Maybe I was a little too ambitious…”
I chuckle, balling up my napkin and dropping it onto my empty plate. “I’m very impressed, but I hope you’ve got an off day tomorrow because I’m pretty sure practice won’t be fun when you’ve got that many tacos swimming around in your stomach.”
He briefly closes his eyes, rubbing his hands in a circular motion over his stomach. “Thankfully, yeah. We leave for an eight-day-away stretch early Thursday, so there's morning skate, but it’s only optional, so I think I’ll skip it.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I laugh before asking, “Do you like road trips?”
I feel weird asking because it seems I’m back to being a fan, but it's clear Blaine has lived and breathed hockey since he was a child, and he didn’t seem to mind talking about it earlier.
“Yeah and no. I like it because I love playing hockey. You could ask me to play in the middle of nowhere, and I’d still wanna do it, but I don’t like all the traveling that’s involved with long road trips.
Going from time zone to time zone, it fucks with your system.
You’re exhausted from that, exhausted from playing, plus there’s something about sleeping in hotel beds…
” He starts to stack the empty plates, placing them in a neat pile at the end of the table. “I don’t sleep well in hotel beds.”
I’m a creature of comfort too, so hopping from hotel to hotel sounds like my kind of nightmare.
“Do you share a room with a teammate?”
“Not anymore. In my rookie year, I shared with Zach, and I wouldn’t mind sharing with him now because I love the guy.
He’s so laid-back and chill that you don’t really hear much from him.
He’s either engrossed in texting Carter or he’s playing some game on his Switch.
But I have my own room now, so whenever we’re not together as a team, I usually just watch a movie on my iPad or I go out to find…
” He trails off, but I can guess what he was about to say.
He goes out to find someone to fuck.
He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable at having gone there. But I’m not going to hold his past against him. We all have one and it’d be unfair of me to judge him based on that.
It’s how he treats me going forward that matters.
Just please don ’ t treat me like the rest.
I swallow down the niggling feeling in my gut and change the subject.
“Is it nice having Elliot on the same team as you now? I read something that mentioned you’ve dreamed of being on the same team since you were kids?”
He nods, his face lighting up at the mention of his brother.
“Fuck yeah, it’s been our dream since we were like four years old.
In all our school projects where the teacher would ask you things like ‘what do you want to be when you grow up’, we’d write 'hockey players on the same NHL team’.
We even went to the same college because we couldn’t bear the thought of being separated, but then I signed with Chicago, and moved end of junior year. ”
“That must have been really hard on both of you.”
“Yeah, it sucked because it was the first time in our entire lives we had been separated, but we didn’t give up hope.
He signed as a free agent after he graduated and spent a few years in the AHL before moving up to play for Vancouver two seasons ago, and when his contract was up in the summer, Thunder snapped him up instantly.
” He snaps his fingers. “It was fate, in a way.”
“Doughty retired last season, right?”
He smiles softly. “Good memory; yeah, he did, and Coach mentioned he’d been keeping an eye on Elliot throughout the years. He knew Elliot would be a great addition for the team, with it being a family-oriented head office and all.”
I’ve read a lot about the Thunder organization being family-run and passed down through generations, so it was nice to hear they also took their players' family lives into consideration, even if Blaine and Elliot’s situation is rare.
The waiter comes to clear the plates, asking if we’d like to order dessert.
There’s no way I can eat another thing, so I thank Blaine when he orders us another beer.
Time slips away from us as we chat, and when the waiter returns again, he has a sheepish look on his face and is holding the bill.
“I’m so sorry, guys, but we’re closing now. ”
Blaine looks at his watch. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t realize the time.” He places his card inside the binder and hands it over to the waiter.
“What time do you start work tomorrow?” He asks when the waiter disappears.
“My alarm is set for four, and I normally get to the shop around five to help Jacob with the prep for the day before we open at nine.”
Blaine’s face drops. “Fuck, it’s past midnight. You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow.”
“It’s okay, it’s been worth it,” I confess.
His face morphs into the widest smile. “Yeah?”
I nod, smiling. “Yeah, I’d say one of the top three best dates I’ve been on.”
“Top three?” He practically growls. “I wanna be first. I’m gonna make the next one better.”
The next one?
“You wanna see me again?” I don’t mean for the surprise or slight insecurity to filter into my voice.
“Fuck yeah, I do.” He pauses for a beat. “I mean, if you wanna see me again, that is.”
Blaine Olsen, notorious playboy, suddenly becomes unsure and shy. It’s fucking adorable.
I chuckle. “Yeah, I do.”
He lets out a relieved breath, smiling shyly.
As the waiter returns for a final time with Blaine’s card and the receipt, we thank him for the incredible food and service. I pull out my wallet to leave a tip, wanting to at least contribute something to this amazing evening. I scribble “cash” on the receipt.
“The next date will be on me,” I smile.
The drive back home is over too quickly, and before I know it, Blaine is parking his Range Rover next to the curb outside my house. He unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face me. I mirror his position, butterflies swarming like crazy in my stomach.
“I’ve had an incredible night tonight,” he states.
“Me too. Thank you for a great evening.”
He rubs the back of his neck nervously, glancing out the window and then back at me again. “Can I see you when I get back from my road trip?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Good, good.” He nods several times, like he’s reassuring himself. “Can I text you while I’m away, too?”
A breathy laugh escapes me. I’m loving his awkwardness. It’s so unlike how he’s perceived by the world.
“Yeah, you can talk to me whenever you like.” I lean in. “In fact, I would be upset if I didn’t hear from you. I’ve grown used to your cheesy pick-up lines.”
When I’m an inch away from him, I stare into those gorgeous eyes, and my skin buzzes from the anticipation that's been building all night.
“Maybe we could even FaceTime, obviously when you’re alone,” I whisper.
A low growl reverberates from the depths of his chest, his nostrils flaring. His eyes drop to my mouth as I run my tongue along my bottom lip in a slow, teasing sweep, knowing it drives him wild.
I’m rewarded when it gets the reaction out of him that I was hoping for.
His large hand grips the back of my head, pulling me to him, causing a bolt of desire to shoot through me.
Blaine swallows my moan, our mouths crashing together in a hot, frantic kiss, pent-up sexual tension burning like a wildfire with every glide of his tongue.
Exploring.
Claiming.
He tastes like beer, tacos, and pure want.
I could get addicted to his kisses. They are absolutely intoxicating.
The hard planes of muscle beneath the soft fabric of his shirt feel delicious under my hands, and I want to explore him with my mouth. I wouldn’t be surprised if the zipper of my jeans leaves indents on my shaft from how hard I am right now.
We’re both gasping for air when we pull apart, pressing our foreheads together. His lips are swollen, and I can’t help but drop my eyes to his lap, letting out a whimper when I see the outline of his hard cock bulging in his pants. As I move to touch him, he stops me.
“I want to do this properly, Alex. I want to date you, seduce you, treat you like the bright star that you are. I might not be any good at it, but you make me wanna try.” His voice is deep and strained, like he’s barely holding on. “But I need you to do something for me.”
I give a shaky nod. At this point, I’d do anything he asked.
“I need you to go inside and get into your bed, completely naked. I want you to think of me while you touch yourself, and I want you to moan my name when you come,” he demands.
“And I want you to know that the next time you moan my name, it’ll be because I’m so deep inside you, you won’t know what fucking planet you’re on. ”
I can’t stop the rush of breath that escapes me. I press a hand down on my crotch, hoping that I can at least make it into my room before I explode.
I give him a small nod. “Okay,” comes out in a whispered breath.
I steal one final kiss from those luscious lips, say my goodbyes, and head toward my house. Once inside, I quickly lock the door and head straight to my room. Thankfully, my brother is fast asleep, but I still slide the latch on my bedroom door because I don’t want anything interrupting me.
I do as he instructed, stripping out of my clothes and climbing into bed with shaky limbs.
Taking my cock in hand, I stroke it, twisting my palm over the sensitive head as I imagine him thrusting deep inside me.
It only takes a few pumps of my fist for my release to hit.
My balls draw up tight, and his name comes out in a hushed moan as I spill over my hand and onto my stomach.
While I lay there, trying to regulate my breathing, I realize that I might be fucked already.
Because Blaine Olsen might be trouble, but he might be the best kind of trouble.