Chapter 15
dirks
The game was unreal. One of those where the puck felt glued to my stick, where every shift hit right, every pass connected.
We shut them down and came out blazing. Third period, I snagged a rebound off the boards and roofed it top shelf, clean, brutal, and fucking loud.
The place fucking exploded so loudly my ears were still ringing.
None of that compared to the moment I glanced up and saw her, standing front and center in a glass seat. She wasn’t tucked away in the family box upstairs like everyone else. No. Luna was right there, ice-level, where I could see her every time I skated by.
She looked like sin in a cropped Ravens top Alex’s wife whipped together at the last minute for me. Black, tight, my name stitched across her back like she’d been wearing it for years. Red lips, big blonde curls, that look in her eyes like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
This—this was why I begged her to come back from London.
It wasn’t only for late-night talks or mornings in my T-shirt or the way she curled into me like she was built for it.
But for this exact fucking moment. Seeing her there, glowing, proud, standing in a sea of fans and looking like she belonged to me?
That was everything.
I didn’t know what we were calling each other yet. Girlfriend. Partner. Walking heart attack in lipstick. Didn’t matter.
All I knew was that she was mine.
I came out of the locker room still riding the edge of that game high, hair damp, suit sharp, tie barely done right.
She was waiting outside the tunnel, leaning against the wall. The second she saw me, her face lit up. She launched herself at me, arms around my neck, legs wrapping around my waist.
Her cropped Ravens top rode up as she clung to me, bare skin warm against my torso, curls bouncing around her face.
“Wow,” she murmured, breath catching. “You did amazing tonight.”
I wrapped my arms tighter around her, pressing my face into her shoulder, letting myself have her for just a second.
I didn’t want to tell her that for a split second, a thin, invisible line of a thought ran through me.
She’s done this before.
Gone to games. Waited in tunnels. Cheered from the stands.
With Will.
I hated that. Hated that I even thought it. That I cared.
Because this—this—wasn’t about the past. She was here with me.
She slid down from my arms, her top riding high enough to flash a sliver of skin, curls bouncing as she adjusted herself.
“Tell me . . . ” she purred, brushing her fingers against the lapel of my suit, “is there a corner somewhere around here? Maybe a dark hallway? Or, I don’t know . . . a janitor’s closet?”
I blinked. “A what?”
She smirked and leaned up, grazing her lips against the shell of my ear. “You know exactly what. So go be my good boy and find us a door that locks or a wall that doesn’t shake.”
Fuck.
My pulse kicked hard.
“Yes, Madame,” I murmured as I scanned the chaos around us.
Everyone was distracted, teammates tangled up with families, girlfriends pulling them in for photos, coaches wrapped in their own postgame debriefs. No one was watching.
My hand found hers instinctively, lacing our fingers tight as I pulled her back down the tunnel—away from the lights, the noise, the crowd.
She followed without hesitation, heels clicking confidently beside me, her thumb teasing the inside of my palm as we moved.
We didn’t run so much as moved . . . fast, like we were afraid we’d change our minds if we slowed down.
I still couldn’t find a damn closet. Somewhere near the weight room? Whatever. It didn’t matter.
Right before the tunnel opened to the stands, I spotted it.
A small corner tucked between a concrete pillar and the wall, out of direct view. It wasn’t a private closet or perfect, but it would do. Because I needed her.
Because I’d been needing her for years.
I turned, pressing her back against the wall with more control than I felt. She looked up at me with a grin that told me she already knew how far gone I was.
She toyed with my jacket. “Couldn’t wait, huh?” she murmured, lips brushing mine, teasing.
I shook my head. “Couldn’t fucking breathe.”
She kissed me. Slow at first—like she wanted to savor it—but then I deepened it, chasing her mouth, tasting her lip gloss and need and everything I’d been holding back since the second she came back into my life.
We hadn’t crossed this line since she got back. Everything but. Hands, mouths, messy late-night teasing that left us both wrecked.
The way she moved against me—grinding, lips hot and urgent, one hand already working at my belt—I knew there was no going back.
She kissed me hard, biting my bottom lip and making me grunt. My cock was straining against my zipper, and when she palmed me through my pants, I nearly lost it right there.
“You’re so fucking hard,” she murmured. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”
I grabbed the hem of her cropped Ravens top, but she slapped my hands away and did it herself, peeling it off slowly, giving me a show.
Her tits bounced free, and her nipples were already hard, those big pink areolas practically daring me to touch.
“Jacket. Off.”
My hands flew to the buttons. I shrugged it down my arms, and she nodded in approval. I’d passed the first test.
She stepped close, fingers hooking in my tie. “This too. Loosen it, but leave it on. I like how you look in it.”
I obeyed.
She didn’t touch me. Instead she dropped to her knees, right there on the fucking concrete.
My belt came undone slowly, like we weren’t somehow still in public. She looked up at me with that calm, cool stare as she freed my cock from my slacks.
“You missed this, didn’t you?”
“Y-yeah,” I rasped, unable to take my eyes off her. “Missed you.”
She hummed, then licked the tip once—just once—before pulling back, watching me twitch in her hand.
“You don’t come,” she said, stroking me with maddening precision. “Not until I say.”
“Fuck,” I breathed, hands fisting at my sides. “Yes, Madame.”
She rewarded me with her mouth. Her tits bounced with each shift of her body, her control absolute. She didn’t gag. Didn’t moan unless she wanted to. It was practiced, intentional, and powerful.
She flattened her palm against my thigh when my hips bucked, pulling off with a wet pop. “Don’t,” she said. “You stay still.”
I bit back a groan, panting. “I’m trying.”
She smiled. “Try harder.”
She swallowed me again, deeper this time, eyes on mine as if daring me to fall apart. This was her game, and I was so fucking lucky to be a player
I was so close, seconds away from coming, and she pulled off me with one last slow drag of her tongue.
She stood and moved her hands to her waistband, shoving the skirt down her hips and letting it pool at her ankles.
No panties.
Just smooth, bare skin and that perfect, shaved pussy glistening in the low light.
My mouth went dry.
“Jesus,” I whispered, eyes glued to her. My hands twitched, aching to grab her. “What does Madame want?”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “I want you to fuck me.”
It wasn’t a request.
“Are you sure, Lune?”
That was the one question I had to ask because I needed to be damn sure.
Her eyes burned as she stepped between my legs and whispered, “Yes.”
That single word was all I needed. I grabbed her hips, fingers sinking into her skin, and lifted her effortlessly. Her thighs spread around me. I pulled her down onto my cock in one smooth, desperate motion.
I choked on a moan. “Fuuuck, Luna—”
She grabbed my tie and yanked, her lips brushing mine, but not kissing me.
“Don’t speak unless I ask you to.”
I nodded fast, jaw clenched, because I was already hanging by a goddamn thread. She was hot, soaked, gripping me like a fucking vise, and I could feel her heartbeat through her cunt.
She rolled her hips and dragged herself up until just my tip remained inside her, then slammed back down.
I clenched her ass with both hands, fingers bruising her skin, but I didn’t dare move. She set the pace.
Her pussy squeezed every time she took me back inside. Her tits bounced in my face. Her teeth sank into her lip, teasing the hell out of me.
And then she came—fucking broke apart on top of me.
“Fuuuck—yes,” she hissed, burying her face in my neck as she trembled, her cunt spasming around my cock in deep, rolling waves. “Fuck, I needed that.”
I whimpered. Literally whimpered, because I was still inside her, still straining, still so fucking close it hurt.
She lifted off, leaving my cock wet and twitching against my stomach.
She sank to her knees between my legs, her flushed chest heaving, cum glistening on her thighs. Her hooded eyes met mine as she pressed her tits together with both hands, presenting them like a fucking gift.
“You were such a good boy at your game,” she murmured. “So many goals.”
She stuck out her tongue just a little, watching me unravel.
“I think you earned a reward.”
My throat bobbed.
“I’ll let you come now,” she said softly. “Right here.”
I stroked once before I exploded everywhere. My cum painted her chest in thick ropes, across her breasts, her throat, her hands.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she cried, watching it happen.
Her skin was a masterpiece, dripping with my cum, her tits still pushed together, flushed and sticky.
I dropped to my knees without hesitation. Didn’t need her to ask or remind me.
This was what I used to do back when it was the three of us. Back when Jeremy would fuck her, claim her, and I’d be the one on my knees afterward, licking up everything he left behind. That had been my place.
I remembered.
Even without him here, I remembered my role.
I leaned in slowly, dragging my tongue across the curve of her left breast, lapping up the thick, warm streak of cum that clung to her skin. She was still flushed and glowing from her orgasm, breathing hard, chest heaving with each pass of my mouth.
I licked higher, over the swell, up to her collarbone where a drop had landed. I sucked it off with a low groan and moved to the other side, spreading my hands over her waist as I buried my face in her tits.
“Fuck,” I breathed against her. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
I cleaned every inch of her with slow, thorough strokes. My jaw worked as I swallowed it down, the taste of her sweat and my own release coating my mouth. I couldn’t get enough.
She sighed, all smug and satisfied, threading her fingers through my hair, guiding me just how she liked.
“So fucking obedient.”
I licked the final streak from just above her nipple, then tilted my head back and opened my mouth wide, tongue flat to show her I’d finished. That I hadn’t wasted a single drop.
Her eyes locked on mine, full of approval and power. “Swallow.”
I did.
“Good boy,” she said, dragging her nails through my hair.
I stood and wrapped her in my arms, kissed her like she was the only thing keeping me alive. She tasted like salt and sex and control, and I was fucking drunk on all of it.
She laughed against my lips, still catching her breath. “We need to get the fuck out of here before someone arrests me for indecent exposure.”
She pulled her skirt back on, no panties, her skin still sticky, her thighs still slick.
“Come home with me, Lune?” I asked, my voice a little hoarse.
“I already told you,” she said, pressing her lips to my jaw. “I’m yours.”