Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CATALINA
"You grew up here?" I asked.
Cruz kicked at a weed which grew in the middle of the gravel road running through the centre of the caravan park.
"Yeah this shit hole was home for the first ten years of my life." He stopped in front of one of the caravans and stared like he was looking at a ghost.
"There's worse things than living in a caravan." I kept my voice down, so a group of kids playing soccer at the end of the road couldn't hear. If this was their reality, I wasn't going to put it down in front of them.
"Yeah, I had a friend who spent a few nights living under the bridge leading into town," he said. "Others who lived in tents. A caravan was a roof over my head, but when you have friends who live in houses, with rooms of their own and a backyard for a dog, you kinda wish that was you. You know?"
I put a hand on his bicep. He went one better by draping an arm over my shoulders.
"Easton told me you guys wanted to make things better for kids, so they didn't have to live under a bridge or in a tent," I said.
Cruz glanced over at me. "We do. I don't want to make too much of a big deal of it. I'm not doing it for the pat on the back or any of that shit. I just think kids deserve better." He shrugged one shoulder.
"They do," I agreed. "Where would you be if you grew up in a fancy house with a backyard and dog?"
He grinned. "Still not singing. Maybe I could have afforded someone to be the front man and sing while I looked pretty."
I snorted. "You're pretty all right. Especially with a pink feather boa around your neck. Maybe you should start wearing one on the ice."
"Kage Foster would have a fit." He laughed. "I might have to try that sometime. Only if you're there to video the look on his face."
"He might ban me from all your games," I said.
"He wouldn't dare," Cruz growled playfully. "Me, Easton and Shaw would go on strike."
"If that doesn't piss him off, nothing would." I leaned against him.
"Seriously, I like to think I'd be playing hockey no matter what happened," he said thoughtfully. "It's the one thing I'm really good at. Everything else, I tend to fuck up. You've probably noticed that already."
"I'm sure you're good at lots of things," I assured him.
"I'm very good at being an asshole," he said. "I'm great at putting my foot in my mouth. I excel at making dumb bets. On the other hand, I'm very, very good at giving orgasms. In fact, I might be better at that than I am at playing hockey." He massaged my shoulder lightly with his fingertips.
My face heated from his touch and the memory of the locker room. "I can't argue with that. You do seem to know what you're doing with your fingers."
He leaned in to whisper in my ear. "It helps when you have a glorious pussy like yours. I haven't stopped thinking about touching you. The way you told me you hated me, and glared at me while I fucked you with my hand. It was awesome."
"Would you like me to tell you I hate you more often?" I asked.
"If I get to fuck you, definitely," he replied. He licked the side of my jaw and traced his tongue down to my throat.
I shivered. "In that case, I hate you very much. I hate you more than I have ever hated anyone else in my life."
"Mmmm, talk dirty to me, baby." He kissed my throat and crossed to the other side of my jaw.
"You're the biggest asshole I ever…mmm, we shouldn't do this here." I didn't want the kids playing nearby to see my panties burst into flame. Or flood.
Cruz glanced at the kids and took my hand. "I know a place. No one will find us there."
I hesitated for a moment, but let him lead me back past his car and onto the street behind the caravan park. The houses here were small, but looked cosy and well-loved.
The front lawns were all neatly mowed, some edged with flower beds which must be beautiful in spring and summer. Only the camellias were in bloom at this time of year. Every few houses had a tree with white or pink blooms, brightening up the neighbourhood.
"I used to walk this way to school," Cruz said. "I thought the people that lived in these houses were rich. Some of them even had two cars. How dumb is that?"
"It's not dumb," I said. "If you don't have much, anyone who has a bit more would seem as though they were rich. Compared to a tent or a bridge, these were castles."
"Yeah, they were. There was always friction between the kids who lived here and kids like me. Like somehow we were less because we lived in that." He jerked his head back to the caravan park. "I promised myself I'd buy one of these houses when I was rich."
He pulled his keys out of his pocket and started down the driveway of a cute, weatherboard cottage. The slats on the front were off-white, the window frames stained dark brown. Outside the front was a Camellia, bright pink flowers all over it.
He pushed the key into the lock and shoved the door open. "Welcome to my castle. I'm not rich, but it's home for now. Easton lives here too, but he promised to stay away for the night."
I followed Cruz inside. The cottage was open plan, the living room to one side, a kitchen to the other. All of the furniture looked second hand and mismatched.
"When we go pro, I'm getting better shit," Cruz remarked. He tossed his keys down onto the dining table and his phone beside it.
"It's nice," I said. I glanced around, which didn't take long.
He crossed his arms and leaned against a wall. "You expected us to live somewhere fancy, didn't you? Big, bad ass hockey gods and all."
"I did," I admitted. "Which is stupid. I know how much money amateur athletes make. Or rather, how little."
"Tell me about it," he said. "I'm still living on a mechanic’s wage. I only finished my apprenticeship a few years ago. That was shit money. The first thing I'm going to do when I get paid by the Ghouls is pay off the mortgage on this place. Fucking bank owns most of it."
"It's important to you isn't it?" I asked. "Making sure you have a solid roof over your head."
"It's everything." His lips pressed together in a tight line.
"I'm never going back to living in a fucking caravan.
I saved up everything I had to put a deposit on this place.
I know too many guys who spend all their pay, or drink it all.
Fuck that. A bigger place would be nice someday, but I'm never selling this.
This is my assurance that I'm never going backwards. "
"You own more houses than I do," I said.
I understood where he was coming from. They say money can't make you happy, but financial security must make life that much easier. I had a long way to go before I got there. I had to finish my degree first. And pay for it.
"If we keep talking like this, people might start to think we're responsible adults or some shit." He curled his lip.
I grimaced. "Ewww. Now who's talking dirty?"
He dropped his arms, grinned and sauntered over to me. "Babe, if you think that's dirty, you ain't heard nothing yet."
He grabbed my ass, picked me up and pressed me against the wall.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him, eagerly and hungrily.
One arm holding me in place, he slipped the other hand up the front of my shirt.
He lightly ghosted his fingers over my stomach and cupped my breast. He pushed my shirt up higher until, between us both we took it off over my head and let it drop to the floor.
He unhooked my bra and tossed it aside to join my shirt.
"Your breasts are fucking beautiful," he said.
"For someone you hate," I teased.
He chuckled. "Yeah, for someone I hate." He leaned in and nibbled on my ear. "I'm going to fuck you like I hate you."
"I was going to say the same to you." I pulled up his shirt over his head and took a long moment to admire his bare chest and abs, decorated with an abundance of ink. "See how ridiculously hot you are?"
He glanced down at himself. "It's stupid isn't it? All those muscles."
"Definitely stupid," I agreed. I wriggled until my pussy was resting right against his cock, only layers of jeans between us. "I can feel how much you hate me." He was hard as a rock.
"So much." He palmed my nipples before leaning in to suck one, then the other. He put me down long enough for us to help each other out of our shoes and jeans. He picked me back up and rubbed the tip of his cock against my entrance.
"You hate me so much you're wet as fuck."
"If you don't put that inside me, I'm going to hate you even more," I growled.
"How much will you hate me?" He positioned his cock carefully and inserted just the tip.
"More than anyone I've ever met," I said. "I hate everything about you."
He slammed all the way inside me. "Do you hate that too?"
"Definitely." I was breathless with how good it felt to have him inside me all the way to his balls.
"Excellent." He gritted his teeth, pulled out and pounded back in again, over and over like he was taking out every ounce of frustration he ever had, on my body.
I dug my heels into his ass and my nails into his back and rocked against him as hard as he was doing to me.
"Are you sure you hate me?" I asked. "It feels like you're being gentle to me."
He laughed-growled, held on to me and swung me around until my ass was on the edge of the table. He yanked my knees apart and thrust in all the way, as deep as he could go. Without restraint or mercy, he fucked me harder than I'd ever been fucked before.
I pressed the palms of my hands into the smooth timber on either side of me. I dropped my head back and closed my eyes.
"That better?" he asked. "Does that feel like I hate you?"
"Absolutely," I agreed.
"Good." He pulled out of me and stepped away for a few moments before stepping back, a vibrator in one hand and a tube of lube in the other. He rolled me over onto my stomach and opened the tube to slather lube over my rear hole.
"I'm going to fuck you in here." He slid a finger inside my ass and turned it around to spread the lubricant and stretch my muscles. He added another finger to the first, then a third.
"Has anyone ever fucked you here?" he asked.
"No," I said breathlessly. "Fuck my ass like you hate me."
He groaned, gripped my hips and pulled me slowly onto his cock. Every couple of seconds, he stopped to let my muscles get used to him. After a few moments, he was fully seated inside me. Like he had with my pussy, he started to fuck my ass hard, hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.
He angled me and bent my knees so he could slide the vibrator inside my pussy.
I moaned. The sensation of being filled like this was incredible. Like nothing I'd ever felt before. He fucked both my holes, deliberate and rough.
He thrust and thrust until I screamed out my orgasm, my cheek pressed against the top of the table.
He came a moment later, spilling hot cum into my ass. Grinding and thrusting, milking himself for every last drop. Finally, he slumped over me, panting.
"Fucking hell, woman. You're incredible." He slid his cock and the vibrator out of me and gathered me up to hold me on the edge of the table.
"You're not so bad yourself," I admitted. "I forgive you."
"I forgive you too," he said.
I drew my head back and frowned at him. "For what?"
"For being so fucking gorgeous and having the tightest ass I've ever fucked." He grinned. "And letting my cock be the first to fuck you there." He slapped my ass cheek.
"You're such a brat." I slapped his chest.
"That's undeniably true," he agreed. "Let's have a shower. I want to show you how much I hate your mouth."