Chapter 32
I’m in another wet dream of Isla and my cock. Her delicate hands on my shaft, licking and jerking me until my sword is drawn in battle. I hiss out a breath and buck my hips, reaching for her hair the way I always do, raking my fingers through gruffly until I’ve got a good grip. “Fuck, baby.”
She moans and the sound vibrates along my length. Too good. Too real.
My hand slides off her hair and I blink my eyes open, finding her gorgeous face at my cock.
“Isla? What are you doing?”
Now that she’s got my attention, she dips and takes me back in her mouth, dark hair falling around my hips.
“Shit, baby,” I groan. “You need to give a guy some warning.”
Me—she needs to give me a warning. Not any other guy. Mainly because her mouth is mine. But also because I could have started fucking her mouth in my dreams if I didn’t wake up.
She doesn’t swirl her tongue around the tip like all the other girls before they ease their way down. She draws me in deep into the warmth of her mouth. My piercing hits her teeth but she works around it.
She’s beside me on her knees, her ass perked as her head bobs, sucking me off.
God, what a fucking sight.
I’m not going to last.
I reach my hand down to grasp her hair, slowing her down. “Baby, take it easy.” Not that I don’t love Isla’s mouth on me, but I know she’s never done this before and I really don’t want to blow too soon, or risk her hurting herself on my piercing.
Letting me guide her, she slows her movements, her hand still gripping me like she’s not willing to let go.
I hiss. “Lower baby. Keep one hand at the base.” When she does, I move my hand over hers as a guide. She cups my balls and massages them, making me want to explode.
“That’s so good,” I grunt, but it barely scratches the surface of how much I want to praise her right now. I buck my hips into her mouth, unable to stop myself.
My hand moves down her bare back, over her ass until I find her wet center.
“Fuck, you didn’t tell me you were wet for me, baby.
” I tease her with my fingers, distracting myself from coming too soon, needing to feel myself buried in her mouth a little longer.
Making her come with me would be the best of both worlds.
“What are we going to do about that, hmm?”
She whimpers, shifting her ass greedily. I rake two fingers between her folds. “You like that?”
She moans agreeably with my cock still deep in her throat. With my other hand, I thread my fingers through the long strands of her hair as she moves up and down, sucking me off like a goddamn expert.
Or maybe it’s just her mouth on me and I don’t particularly care how she does it. I’ll come just from the sight.
I groan and massage her clit, wishing it wasn’t so far from my mouth. I thrust two fingers deep in her and feel the vibration of her throaty shriek against my dick, but she doesn’t slow, just sucks faster.
A whimper breaks out of me, because fuck that’s hot.
Shit. “Baby, I’m going to come.” I tug gently on her hair.
Either she’s not listening, or she doesn’t care. I’m not going to come in Isla’s mouth—it’s not like it’s something I don’t do. But I can’t with Isla.
Not now.
Not yet.
“Isla,” I growl.
She grips me harder, and fuck, I erupt. Jerking and coming into her mouth with an angry groan. She doesn’t let go. She swallows every drop and I’m going to lose my fucking mind over this woman. Because where did she come from?
I slap her ass, because I know she likes it, then immediately find her clit again, and that’s all it takes to send her over the edge. She screams and quivers through her release, her hair falling over my stomach in the sexiest post orgasm high I’ve ever seen.
I lift her gently and draw her to me, her heartbeat against my chest. “The fuck possessed you to do that?” I brush her hair away and kiss her lips, tasting myself on her.
Her smile is barely there and I can’t tell if she’s still floating or if I did something wrong.
“I didn’t mean to growl at you,” I breathe into her hair. “I just don’t want you to do something you might not be ready for because you think it’s what I want.”
She looks up at me with a sinful smirk. “You don’t scare me, hotshot.”
“Good. That’s the last thing I’d ever want.” I kiss the top of her head before checking my alarm.
I release a grunt and settle us both back under the covers. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
The Castle smells like burnt bread, cinnamon, and coffee on Thursday morning.
Isla’s still asleep and I can’t help but grin down at her tangled in my sheets, knowing she’s safe and comfortable here with me.
I toss on a T-shirt and make my way downstairs.
“I don’t think that’s supposed to be smoking,” I tell Greyson when I walk into the kitchen.
He waves me off with a dishcloth.
Hunter’s filling up his to-go mug, duffle bag already over his shoulder. “Headin’ downtown already?”
“Expecting traffic. It’s not enough I’m there through Sunday morning, they wanted me to come last night after they found out the game was cancelled.”
“Good luck on the road. Wish your mom a happy one from me. And be back early Sunday. Big game.”
He pins me with a look that tells me it’s all he could think about. “Have fun tonight. Where you headin’ this weekend anyway?”
“Brooklyn,” I say as I turn to open the fridge, taking out the carton of milk I don’t need yet. I have never been good at lying to my friends’ faces. “Isla’s aunt and uncle.”
“Cool. Meetin’ the fam.”
“I’m just taking her. It’s not a big deal.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. First girlfriend and all.”
“Traffic,” I remind him.
“Going,” he calls, swinging the back door open and leaving.
I perk my brows at Grey.
“I’ve got it under control,” he assures me.
“So long as you didn’t burn the coffee.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You look calm. Please tell me it’s because you got laid last night and not because you called Leman.”
I smirk and take a sip of my coffee.
“Asshole. Both, wasn’t it?”
Ellie barks at the front door right when Leman steps inside, carrying bags full of groceries. “Easy girl, it’s just me,” Cole ruffles Ellie’s fur with his ankle, bags wobbling in the process.
Greyson glares at me. He’s a good sport on the ice with Leman, but stays in constant competition over who’s better in the kitchen.
“Yes, but you’ve still got the turkey.” I wink dramatically.
He closes the oven, the banana bread barely smelling like it should.
By three p.m., most of the crew’s shown up. Grey and Cole are finally getting along in the kitchen. I think I even heard some laughter, mixed with Grey calling Cole a Mama’s boy and an asshat in the same breath. But the food’s coming out, drinks are being poured, and everyone seems happy.
Might also have something to do with our winning streak. And the fact that we’re more than ready to take on the Titans on Sunday.
Isla’s been hanging out with Tisch, who—if anyone asks—crashed today, because I wouldn’t willingly invite an immediate relative of a Titan to our Castle.
Isla stayed upstairs most of the morning, cleaning—which I’ve learned is a nervous tick of hers. But no one made her nervous when she came down to join the crowd.
She’s been laughing, talking to Laney and Maddie. Laney is Grey’s sister and a college dropout. Or I shouldn’t say dropout. She “chose a new path”. A path of working at an airport coffee shop.
And of course, Maddie—or Mads—Coach’s daughter.
I make my way over to my girlfriend and hand her a glass of wine, hoping it’ll loosen her up and encourage her to talk to others.
“Thanks.”
Tisch looks up at me. “What about me?”
“Kitchen,” I say flatly.
“I can’t wait till my brother crushes you Sunday night,” she mutters as she pushes to her feet and heads toward the kitchen.
“Mean,” Isla growls.
I chuckle. “I just needed a minute alone with you. You know I’m a Trish fan.”
“It’s Tisch,” she corrects.
“That’s what I said.”
Maddie shakes her head. “Well, I like her. She’s got that badass vibe. Plus, she’s a drama major. Dad wouldn’t let me major in that. Film was the best I could get him to agree to pay for.”
“You know you still need to take a math to graduate,” Coach deadpans his nineteen-year-old daughter.
“Math is for dorks, Dad.”
I wince and look at Cole, who’s majoring in finance. Math is totally his jam. He’s always the one analyzing our stats like it’s his homework assignment.
Cole looks up from behind his glasses. He’s totally got that Clark Kent look going for him. The guy doesn’t date much, not for lack of girls falling at his feet. I’ve seen the occasional girl leave his hotel room when we’re traveling but never anyone at school.
“Point made,” Mads murmurs, turning away from Cole’s glare.
Coach raises his glass toward his favorite player. “Cole, tell my daughter that math isn’t so scary if she would stop looking at it like the evil villain.”
Leman leans back in his chair. “Math’s not for everyone, Coach. So long as she knows how to count her change at a Starbucks, she’ll never need it.”
Damn, he doesn’t even spare her a glance as he says it.
Isla reaches out to touch Maddie’s arm. “Hey, careful, you’ll crack a tooth clenching that hard.”
Mads snaps her eyes to her with a warning.
Isla pulls back. “Or, you know. Whatever helps.”
Maddie stands and marches off. “Dad, I’m getting a drink.”
He starts to protest but sighs. “Half a glass.” Then looks at the rest of us. “Don’t judge me. She’s still better off with me than her mother.”
I don’t know what the story is there, but we don’t ask. We get enough of grumpy coach to not ask about his ex-wife. And we don’t know how sensitive the topic is to ask Mads about it when he’s not around.
Grey taps a fork on his glass. “Okay, everyone, thanks for coming. We’re not cheesy here. We’re not going to go around the room to talk about what we’re thankful for.”
“That’s not cheesy,” Coach argues.
“Let me finish. But what we are going to do is call Hunter on the road and tell him it’s his turn,” he chuckles as he dials.
Cheers echo through the living room and laughter drifts from the kitchen.
Hunter answers the video call on the first ring and Grey holds it out to the room.
“Hunter it’s your turn.”
“What? Dude, I’m going like ninety on the interstate.”
“Slow the fuck down,” Coach curses.
“Tell him, Dad.” Maddie cheers, stepping out with half a glass of white wine and a cheese plate.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shit.”
Hunter rattles off half-audible things he’s grateful for but we mostly get wind noise. “And all you fuckers.”
Everyone laughs and randomly shout out dumb shit they’re grateful for.
I slip back next to Isla. “Don’t worry, I’ll make them skip you.”
She shrugs, bumping my shoulder. “I’m grateful for that.”
I clink my beer bottle with her wine glass.
“Seeing my dad tomorrow, though. I’m grateful for that. You coming with me. Umm…Bree. Tisch.” She looks at me. “You.” Then glances around the room. “And all the things I’ve never had that you’ve given me.”
I roll my shoulders back. “Yeah, that signed Kane Andrews jersey is tough to come by.”
Her eyes grow wide with horror. “You signed my new jersey? With ink?”
“Yeah, that’s how it works, babe.”
“What if it bleeds in the wash? What if I wanted to sell it and it loses value because my name is on it?”
“Oh please, it’ll lose value because my name’s not on it,” Greyson says, handing me another beer and a plate of turkey for Isla. “Eat up before it’s all gone. All the chicks are fillin’ up on cheese and crackers.”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry, your name’s not on it. But you’ll know it was autographed for you.”
Isla blushes. “What about you? You grateful for the future waiting for you no matter who you sign with?”
I shrug. “I’ll have to be happy wherever I end up. But once I have an agent talking to teams, I’ll have a better idea what my options actually look like.”
Being a top prospect is a dream for most, but I’ll never know if it’s for the right reasons if I end up a Ranger. And I just can’t play with that kind of doubt.
Though who’s to say I won’t change my mind quick once I’m on the ice with the pros and can replace negativity with a legacy I’m proud of.
If anyone can get me there—I have no doubt it’s the girl sitting next to me. And maybe the man sitting across from me.
Coach has been the biggest part of my growth and confidence. But it can’t be his full-time job.
Or Isla’s.
I need to make it mine.