Epilogue Dalton
POP THE CHAMPAGNE AND DON’T THINK ABOUT IF THIS IS STICKY…
Months Later…clearly.
The final period of the Stanley Cup Final was electric.
The air crackled with tension and excitement. Fans of both teams roared, their collective energy vibrating through the boards and up into my chest.
Stars Arena was alive. It felt like all of San Jose was here tonight to witness game seven.
The score was tied, 2-2, with just under a minute left on the clock. Every muscle in my body hummed with adrenaline, trying to fight off the exhaustion, but fuck stopping now. Not when the cup was this close.
I glanced toward the bench, my attention snagging on Ari, her dark eyes focused, shouting directions with Monroe next to her. I chuckled. Her job title might have been strength and conditioning coach, but damn was she a good unofficial assistant coach when it was game time.
She claimed it was because she was forced to live with “ the star center,” so she couldn’t help herself during a game. Her tailored suit coat moved as she gestured. The number 55 was stitched on the back of this one, too, but I’d made one special addition, and THATCHER ran across the top of her shoulder in a soft blue, matching my jersey.
“Focus,” Jimenez growled beside me as we lined up for the faceoff. “We’re taking this.”
I grinned, my mouthguard flashing. “Damn right, we are.”
The puck dropped.
The ice beneath my skates was slick, cold, and unforgiving as I lunged forward, swiping it cleanly and shooting it to Hogan. He darted down the boards, but Nashville’s defense closed in like a pack of wolves. I shadowed him, weaving through the chaos, the seconds ticking down.
Twenty seconds.
The puck snapped loose from Hogan’s stick, skittering across the blue line. Jimenez charged in, muscling through two Nashville players, and sent it my way. I caught it clean, and for a split second, everything went silent. The noise of the crowd, the players shouting—it all faded as I locked eyes on the net.
Ten seconds.
I wound up and fired, the puck sailing, slipping past the goalie’s glove and slamming into the back of the net.
The arena exploded, and it felt like my heart stopped.
The buzzer sounded.
I just stood there, letting the noise wash over me. Then Jimenez barreled into me. “We won the fucking Stanley Cup,” he screamed, knocking me into the boards as our teammates piled on.
As soon as I broke free, my eyes searched for her.
She wasn’t shouting anymore, she was beaming, her hands pressed to the sides of her face as tears spilled down her cheeks. Her suit coat gleamed under the arena lights, and I couldn’t help it. I skated right to her, tossing my helmet, wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground, spinning us in a circle.
“We did it,” I whispered against her ear, my breath ragged from the effort and the pure joy coursing through me. “We fucking did it, Sunshine.”
She laughed, her hands gripping my shoulders as she looked down at me, her smile radiant. “You did it, Thatcher. You deserve this.”
“I deserve you,” I countered, my lips brushing her temple before I set her down.
The locker room was chaos.
Champagne sprayed everywhere, music blasted, and players shouted, their voices hoarse from celebrating. I’d showered and changed, but my buzz was still running hot, my heart thundering in time with the bass.
Like a damn moth to a flame, I spotted her across the room, surrounded by players and team staff, laughing, her face glowing, and something primal inside me stirred.
This wasn’t how I wanted to celebrate.
I grabbed a bottle of champagne and crossed the room in what felt like two steps, my hand sliding into hers without a word.
“Dalton, what—” she started as I pulled her out of the locker room, silencing her with a smirk. I tugged her into a supply closet and shut the door behind us.
Pine-Sol and bleach permeated the small space, but I didn’t fucking care. Nothing mattered except her.
“You’re mine, Sunshine,” I murmured, my voice low and full of heat, caging her against the wall with my hands. Loving the way her breath hitched, lips parting as I dipped my head to brush my mouth against hers. “Stanley Cup or not, you’re my victory.”
Her calloused hands fisted in my shirt, slamming my lips down on hers. The kiss was searing. It was like someone pressed a livewire to my skin. Her nails scraped lightly against the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I pressed her tighter against the wall, my body molding to hers as I deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of gratitude, relief, and love into it.
“Dalton,” she whispered against me, her voice breathless, sending a shot of lust to my cock. “I love you.”
Fuck. I’d never get tired of that.
The words were everything.
I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, my chest heaving harder than it had during the game. “And I love you, Sunshine. Always.”
Her smile was enough to light up the entire room, and as our mouths found each other again, the sounds of the locker room celebration faded away.
I slid my hands over her strong body and I dropped to my knees, making quick work of the button on her suit pants.
“What are you doing? Someone could walk in.”
“Celebrating,” I responded, yanking the fabric down her toned legs to reveal her hot pink silk underwear. I about choked at the sight, my fingers grazing over her ass and her already wet pussy. This pounding in my chest had to be what a heart attack felt like.
Death by pussy sounded like a fucking great way to go to me.
“So wet, darlin’,” I growled, pressing her back against the cinderblock and spreading her legs wide. “And I’m about to add to it.” I licked over her silk-covered center, relishing in her moan.
Some players dreamt about drinking champagne out of the Stanley Cup, but that wasn’t how I wanted my bubbly. Picking up the already opened bottle, I poured it down the front of her white tank top, lapping up the liquid at the apex of her thighs.
“Fuck, Dalton.” Her voice shook, and I pressed my mouth against her pussy, teasing her the way I knew she liked. Alternating between hard and soft licks before the fabric got in my way, and I ripped her panties down too.
Those little gasps were like a drug, and I wasted no time pressing the flat of my tongue on her swollen clit until her legs shook around me.
Regular champagne would never be good enough now. Fuck, nothing would be good enough unless I was lapping it up straight from between her thighs.
She begged me for more, hair swishing back and forth as she shook her head. I got her right to the brink before slowing a few times, edging her so I could watch her writhe in pleasure.
“I swear, Dalton.”
She shivered as I chuckled against her clit, the vibration causing her to spasm. “You’re doing so good,” I said, latching back onto her clit and sucking right as I slipped a finger in. Then a second. By the third, she fell apart on my tongue.
“Did I do a good job fucking with my fingers, Coach?” I asked, smiling up at her when she had finally finished shaking. I barely got the words out before she tackled me to the ground.
“Star fucking athlete, but I’d really like you to fuck me with something else.” She frantically pulled my shorts down my hips, gripping the length of my cock in her hands.
I was so hard it hurt.
“Fuck,” I breathed, my head falling back as she pumped me, dipping down to lick the head of my cock. Those sinfully beautiful eyes locked on me, cataloging every reaction on my face to the witchcraft she was performing with her mouth.
Shouts and laughter started getting louder and we both froze. But then Ari’s eyes took on a mischievous glint. “Better hurry, Dalton. See if you can secure one more win tonight before the clock runs out.”
I scoffed, reaching over and moving her body so she was straddling my hips. “I’m insulted you think we are only fucking once tonight. You’re going to stay naked for days .”
She giggled, lining up my cock at her entrance before sinking down, head rolling so far back as sounds of pleasure fell from her lips that the tips of her long hair tickled my thighs.
Later tonight, I’m wrapping my fists around all that hair.
“That’s a good girl. Show me how well you take my cock, darlin’.”
“Where’s the damn hat when I need it?” she moaned, bouncing up and down.
We really needed to get back home so I could strip her down completely, but at least the liquid I’d poured down her chest had caused the white fabric to turn see-through, giving me a peek at her pebbled nipples.
“They don’t wear those out here,” I grunted, my balls tightening every time her ass cheeks brushed them.
“I don’t give a shit.” Her eyes popped open and she stared me down while she moved on top of me. “You’re still going to wear yours, Longest Ride.”
I smirked at the nickname she’d used that first night we met, digging my fingers into her hips as she rode me.
“Anything for you,” I said, moving my hand so I could circle her clit.
She moaned, arching her back and taking me deeper. God, she was fucking sexy. Feeling her pussy bare was my favorite way to fuck her. Knowing that I could fill her with my cum, and there was something that much hotter about the fact that she’d walk out of this closet dripping our release.
If that was wrong…I didn’t give a shit.
“Come on, show me what you’ve got. Show me how well you take my cock, Coach. ”
I pistoned into her, unable to hold back any longer. My hands trailed up her body, roaming over every curve and muscle. Breathtaking. So strong, in more ways than just physically.
Suddenly, there was too much space between us.
She cried out as I sat up, staying inside her. The new position made me feel like I was so much deeper, and when she started circling her hips…I forgot how to function.
The sensation nearly sent me to another dimension. A damn factory reset via her pussy, and I knew we were moments away from falling over the edge together.
“Be a good girl and come,” I whispered into her ear, pulling the sensitive lobe into my mouth.
Her cries echoed off the walls, her pussy clenching around, sending me into my own release.
I held her in my arms through the aftershocks, burying my face in her hair. “Fuck the afterparty, I’m taking you home to do that again…and again.”
She laughed, that bright sound filling me with joy and warming me from the inside. She outshone the sun in my life.
“Sunshine, you’re the other piece to my soul.”