Chapter 67
NOW
Bennett
We win our regional semifinal—a hard-fought win, but I play nearly perfectly, only letting in one goal through the three periods. Thankfully, Rhys carries the team well—though the winning goal was scored by Toren, who was quiet and almost somber in his acceptance of the award from Coach Harris.
Paloma worked the game on the bench, eyes twinkling as Harris kept her close and spoke with her often, including her entirely in the real coaching experience. She was glowing by the end of the game, cheeks pink.
Now, she’s standing in the line of coaches as Harris finishes his speech, hands tucked into the pockets of her oversized navy blazer, hair slicked back tightly into an elegant ponytail I’m desperate to tug on.
Rhys takes over as soon as our coach is done, announcing the Final Bash at the Hockey Dorms this weekend but being very clear on the usual rules: party as hard as you want, but then zero tolerance policy into the Frozen Four stretch.
Cheers erupt and Paloma breaks away from the line, stepping carefully toward my spot on the bench where I’ve removed most of my pads and am wiping off my neck, only dressed in my compression pants.
“Hey,” she says, hesitant, picking at the sleeve of her jacket.
My smile is soft, eyes glimmering as I mumble, “Come here, P.”
She steps forward into my embrace, letting me kiss her mouth in front of them all.
We aren’t usually the public-display-of-affection couple, but I feel possessive of her—always, but especially here in this locker room.
I know how many of my teammates feel about Paloma, know the way some of them have fantasized vocally about her, have tried their hand at having her, so I want them to know.
She’s taken. Forever, if I can keep hold of her like this. And God, am I going to try.
There’s a few hoots and cheers, Rhys smirking next to me as he smacks my shoulder. Freddy catcalls us, shaking out his wet hair. Paloma pulls back from me and rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are pink, and her eyes are full up with love.
For me.
“You and Reiner now?” Holden smirks, shaking his head. “Come on, Paloma. Just give me a chance. When is it my turn?”
“Knock it off,” Rhys says, still lighthearted, but clearly a warning.
“You’re only saying that cause you already got a chance with her, Cap.” Holden laughs, seemingly not noticing the shift at his words. “Paloma, baby, let me try. I bet I can—”
Paloma leaps for him suddenly, like she might hit him. Before I can move, Toren’s arms wrap around her waist and yank her off Holden and back against him.
“Calm the fuck down, Blake,” he whispers to her.
Holden wrinkles his brow, sobering quickly. “What the hell—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Toren snaps, eyes darting toward his partner. “For one goddamn minute, Holden, shut up.”
I’m crossing to them, half-dressed and sweaty, but it only takes a second for Paloma to realize I’m there. Toren lets her go, eyes staying on Holden even as he looks thoroughly apologetic.
“You okay, P?” I ask, voice a whisper as I move my hands to bracket her face and turn it toward me. She nods but huffs a breath. Angry tears build in her eyes as she hides her face in my chest.
Paloma sinks into my embrace easily and I pet her hair, kissing her temple. I don’t say anything, but the way we move together seems to be enough.
“Why don’t you go get your stuff and meet me right outside.”
She agrees, her heels clicking loudly in the silence of the locker room.
My eyes scan over the entire room, where everyone is focused on me. I might not be the shimmering captain of gold or the terrifying defenseman who snaps at the drop of a hat, but I’ve made my place here. I have my own stoic, intense reputation.
My words aren’t a yell, but they don’t have to be. “Talk about her again like that, see what fucking happens.”
My voice is solid and plain, no growl, no fury—just a threatening calm.
Most of them nod—Holden still watching me with a clear remorseful look on his face. And I know that he didn’t mean to hurt either of us, but I’ve spent three years watching him shamelessly flirt with her. I just need a minute.
“See you all tomorrow,” I say, tossing on my track pants and sweatshirt. For the first time, I leave without cleaning my pads or doing a single one of my postgame routines.
· · ·
“Please—”
She’s panting, eyes glazed and looking at me adoringly.
It’s a shot to my heart, as it always is with Paloma.
But here, with her stretched out like an offering over my bed, arms tied together and held above her head—making her beautiful tits push forward even more—my gaze on her is almost worshipful.
“Bennett,” she cries, body jerking as those same wide brown eyes shut tight.
My hand slides across her cheek to her mouth, covering it briefly with my finger to quiet her. I’m not surprised by the way her body curves and arches into even my smallest touch—I’ve been playing with her for ten minutes already, and she’d been dripping since I tied her hands.
She was fucking made for me.
“Can you be quieter for me, love?”
She nods over and over.
“Good girl,” I say, dragging the word along her skin as I run my finger over her chin, down her neck, into the valley between her breasts. “You’re holding it in for me, aren’t you? Waiting for me to tell you to come?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “Please—”
“Shh,” I coo. “Tonight is going to be different. I’m going to make you come with my fingers, my mouth, my cock—” She moans so loud, I cover her mouth again. “And you can come as much as you want, without asking for permission, okay?”
Her nod is like a bobblehead, hair spilling from the tight ponytail it was in before. Unable to resist, I reach up and tug the elastic carefully, running my hands through the blond strands until they lay like water across my sheets.
“Do you know why?”
She doesn’t say anything, grinding into the air—so keyed up. So free beneath my hands, trusting me so thoroughly. It’s intoxicating.
“Paloma? Answer me, love. Do you know why I’m going to let you come as much as you want?”
She shakes her head, eyes tracking back to me.
“Because you deserve this. Because you are so good and strong and perfect. I want to make you feel good—to show you exactly how good you always are for me.”
The words are softer than anything else I’ve said. And her body stills, eyes welling slightly with tears, mouth tipping into a soft smile.
I’ll pour praise over her again and again for as long as I live, or as long as she lets me. Because this is how it makes her feel. And when she’s so vulnerable beneath my hands, tied up and splayed in her purest form, I want her to know that I will care for her, love her, worship her.
“Are you going to let me take care of you? The way I want to?”
“Yes,” she says. It’s almost a plea. “Bennett.”
Pulling her closer, I kneel on the floor between her spread thighs, tossing each one over the bulk of my shoulders, hand down my sweatpants as I lick at the seam of her pussy, pulling moans from Paloma’s mouth.
I take my time with her, pressing my words into her skin, using my fingers to keep her suspended in pleasure while I praise her. I’m finally able to say everything I want to her, no fear of scaring her away or waking up without her beside me. She’s mine.
“You’re so beautiful. So smart.
“I’ve dreamt about these thighs, entangled with mine.
“When I fantasize about you, you’re soft and warm in my embrace, letting me take care of you—just like this. Come again for me, P. I know you can.”
I give her my fingers, my tongue, even my thigh so she can grind into it—making her come over and over again.
Her face is flushed, eyes bright and waterlogged, shimmering with release and need and the aftereffects of my praise I’ve come to expect. But still, I don’t stop. I won’t, until she understands how desperately I love her.
It’s heady, my own pulse thrumming as I fit another finger into her, watching her body arch and pushing down on her abdomen lightly as I curl my fingers inside. She goes off again, clenching around me as I lean over her body and coo, talking her through it the way I know she loves.
“You are everything to me, Paloma,” I whisper. “You breathe; I breathe. All I want is to make you feel good—here and everywhere. To keep you here, safe, if you want. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“I love you,” she sobs out, body arching again and this time, I come, too—untouched, in my fucking pants.
Sitting back for a second, I huff out a few breaths.
Paloma stares at me with tears in her eyes before her mouth cracks open to whisper, “Can you untie me, please?”
Scooting up by her head, I carefully unfasten her hands, massaging her wrists as I check them over carefully. But the second I let one go, she leaps toward me, arms encircling my neck, her naked body attaching tightly to my clothed one.
Holding on to me. Whispering still, over and over, “Thank you. Thank you.”
Something in my chest burns, the pieces of my once-shattered heart remade by her love and care of me now.