by Penny Reid
Flicking my tongue over her nipple, I exhale and watch it tighten.
This time Violet muffles a curse. I won’t admit she can probably be as loud as she wants. My parents’ room is on the floor below us at the other end of the hall. It’s unlikely they’ll hear anything. On the off chance Violet gets a little too exuberant I keep that information to myself. We’ve had enough shit go down this weekend.
Still, I’m not being very nice by keeping her legs pinned together. Usually when I’m getting in some boob time, she has the opportunity to grind all over me. Not so right now. She can’t get off without the friction I’m denying.
When her moans turn desperate, I kiss my way down her stomach and part her legs.
“Please, Alex. I just want to come.”
I blow across her clit, and she groans. She clamps a hand over her mouth.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t stop. Please,” she mumbles from behind her palm.
I’m about ready to be inside her, but she deserves a little torture for the hours of hard-ons I’ve endured this evening. I kiss the skin right above her clit.
She holds onto my hair tightly with her other hand. “Your mouth is made of magic.”
I keep her legs pinned, moving my hands higher, until my thumbs are perilously close to her “freak out” zone. It’s purposeful. Her whole body jerks with the contact. I do it again. Violet moans, loudly.
I stop. As mean as it is, I want her worked up. The more I tease her, the more intense her orgasm should be. The wetter she is, the longer I’ll be able to go. It’s a win-win for both of us.
“What are you doing?” she exclaims in a furious whisper.
“You’re having an awfully hard time being quiet . . .” I edge my thumbs in.
She’s so close to an orgasm she must not notice or care. She lifts her hips, pressing my face into her pussy. I don’t even get to use my fingers before she comes.
Her body shakes with the restraint required to stay silent.
I leave a path of wet kisses from her stomach to her mouth, settling between her thighs. She stills, her eyes fluttering as I press forward. I stay close and move slowly until it isn’t enough for either of us. Grabbing her ass with one hand, I go harder, faster, deeper. Hovering above her, I’m ready to swallow up the sounds I know she won’t be able to hold back.
Violet stiffens as I readjust my grip, and I accidentally graze her “access denied” area.
She digs her nails into my skin and bites my shoulder to muffle her moan. Her pussy clenches so tightly, it’s like my dick is being held in the warmest velvety vice on earth. So, of course, I come like a fucking bulldozer.
I roll us over so Violet is lying on my chest and rub her back while her breathing slows. Aftershocks make her whimper every so often.
“Your fingers were awfully close to the no-go zone.”
“Sorry.” I rub her back. I’m not all that sorry.
She snorts. It’s an exhausted sound. “Liar face.”
“I would never—” I hesitate, trying to decide what exactly I would never do.
If given the chance, would I get up in there? Fuck yeah, eh. Is it likely to happen anytime soon? Not unless I can convince Violet to let me near Never Neverland with my fingers. “It wasn’t intentional.”
“Yeah, right.”
I gather up her hand, bring her fingers to my mouth, and bite her knuckle. “I only ever want to make you feel good.”
“You make it sound so innocent.” She snuggles in and tucks her head under my chin.
This is what I’ve been missing—the easy closeness we share.
Violet drifts off to sleep, but it takes a long while for my mind to turn off. I have figure skating dreams where I can’t catch my partner before she falls. Performance anxiety dreams aren’t uncommon at this point in the season. But these unsettle me, as if my inability to stop my partner’s fall is a mirror for my reality.
I brush it off.
Dreams are just dreams. They don’t mean anything.
Chapter 22
SON OF A BEAVER, MOTHERPUCKING PUCK
Violet
Alex drops me off at the airport, and we make plans to see each other as soon as he returns to Chicago. I sleep all the way home on the plane. I’m exhausted from the weekend of marathon sex. Alex wasn’t lying about his stamina. He’s like a machine, except better because he’s Alex. I wake up from a dream about his penis as the plane is landing. The flight attendant gives me an odd look, so I have to wonder if I’ve been talking in my sleep. Ignorance is probably bliss in this case.
Charlene, being the amazing bestie she is, picks me up the next morning on the way to work. I expect a full inquisition about my weekend with Alex, which I’m prepared to share, but Charlene has had some excitement of her own.
“I have so much to tell you! Darren is amazing. I’ve already merged our faces to see what our babies would look like—you know there’s a website?” She pauses long enough to take a breath. “They’d be so pretty.”
“You’re kidding about the last part, right?”
“Um, no. Why? Is that weird? I did it for you, too.” Charlene drives through Starbucks for us. I’m grateful considering my level of exhaustion.
“No, Charlene, that’s not weird at all.” It is, but I want to see the pictures.
Charlene is very much a romantic. She dives head-first into every relationship. It’s common for her to tell me she’s in love after the first date. Two weeks later, she’s usually over it and moving on to the next guy. It’s why she doesn’t generally fall into bed with them right away; otherwise she’d have a pretty high running tally.
Charlene shares the details of her evening with Darren, including the size of his dick, on our drive to work.
“Wait a second—you had sex with him?”
“What? No! Of course not!”
“How do you know how big his wang is? Did he whip it out?”
“I wish. I grabbed his junk. Just to check—you know? I don’t want to waste his time or mine if he’s got a tiny winkie. Anyway, he was such a gentleman. If I hadn’t made a move, he probably would’ve kissed my cheek and been done with it. He has the softest lips, Vi. We must have made out for like, I don’t know, an hour?”
“Where did this epic make out session take place?”
“In my hotel room. It was just supposed to be a good-night kiss. I got carried away, and I felt him up. He wants to take me out for dinner next week. Maybe we can double date sometime.”
“That’d be great.” I won’t hold my breath, though, just in case Darren ends up in her discard pile.
“What about you? How was your weekend?”
“My weekend was good.”
“‘Good’? You spent the weekend with Alex and that’s all you have to say? What’s this I hear about you staying at his parents’? How was that?” She sucks in a huge breath. “Did you see childhood photos? Was he always super-hot? What’s the deal with his mom’s hair? It’s huge.”
This is more the line of questioning I expect. “It definitely has its own zip code. The childhood photos were epic. He was nerdy hot in high school.”
I expected things to be uncomfortable with Daisy after she caught Alex with his hand in my pants—and they were—but she was a lot nicer to me the next day. Much like my mom, Daisy’s into oversharing. I got to see Alex’s awkwardness up close in all his skating photos.
He was skinny and dorky and completely adorable. The spandex skating outfits were something else; Alex grew into his junk, not the other way around. I can see why the girls in high school would have been afraid of his trouser anaconda.
The following evening, I rush home from work so I can shower and pack an overnight bag before Alex comes to get me. I open the door to discover Buck in my kitchen, raiding my fridge. I don’t know why he does this. It’s not as if I keep it fully stocked for hockey player style eating. I’ve got the basics covered, and that’s about it. Most of it is sugary crap, to be quite honest.
He completely misses the barb. “I’ve never heard of that grocery store. Kind of a messed up name.”
“What are you doing here? Other than grocery shopping in my fridge.”
“I thought I’d stop by and see how your little holiday went. I’d like to thank you for scarring me for life with the locker room fuck-a-thon.” He finds the one healthy food item in my fridge—an overly large cucumber—and takes a massive bite.
“That’s disgusting.”
“No shit. Imagine how you’d feel if you walked in on me boning some chick.” He jabs the cucumber in my direction.
“I’m talking about the phallic vegetable you’re eating.”
“So you’d be fine walking in on me boning some chick?”
A chunk of chewed food flies out of his mouth and lands in his beard when he snorts. It looks like snot. He wipes it away and it lands on the floor.
“I don’t think that’s something you should joke about, considering the chick you’re currently boning is Alex’s little sister. I won’t stand in the way if Alex decides to kick the shit out of you.”
“I’m not boning Sunny.”
“Call it whatever you want. Fornicating is still fornicating no matter what slang term you use.”
“I haven’t slept with her.” He has the decency to look horrified for lying.
I give him my best bitch face. “I’m not an idiot, Buck.”
“You can’t tell anyone.” He’s gripping the cucumber so hard it starts leaking out the top, juice dripping down his fingers.
I process his stance and his expression. He’s legit terrified. “You’re seriously serious?”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but I haven’t even tried to bone her.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m telling the truth! We’ve made out and I touched her tits, and I may have tried to . . . never mind.” His face contorts as he thinks. “I love talking to her. She gets me.”
This is so not the Buck I know. His eyes are wide, and he keeps swallowing. It’s so loud I can hear it from where I’m standing. Buck is freaked out. I feel bad for him. He has no idea what it’s like to want more than sex and maybe the occasional snuggle.
“I mean it, Vi. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Is it such a bad thing if people know you’re not trying to get into Alex’s sister’s pants? It might help resolve some of the tension between you two.”
“I will try to get into her pants, just not right away because . . .” He scratches his beard. “Well, I don’t know why exactly. The guys can’t know, though. They already think I’ve slept with her.”
“Did you tell them you slept with her?”
I’ll be pissed at him for making Alex’s sister look slutty. I’m lucky Alex isn’t the bragging type. Even when the only things he knew about me were how loud I am in bed and my love for his monster cock, he still didn’t soil my reputation. I’m well-equipped to do that on my own—see locker room for details.
“Not really.” He takes another bite of his cucumber.
“Care to explain?”
“I didn’t tell them I did. I also didn’t tell them I didn’t.” He has the good sense not to look me in the eye.
“So you lied to them.”
“No.”
“Yes you did.”
He still looks confused.
“Alex’s sister isn’t some random chick you’re sticking your wang in. She’s one of your teammates’ sister, kind of like I’m your sister.”
The lightbulb appears to be flickering, so I figure it’s safe to continue.
“There are hundreds of pictures of Sunny and Alex together. It’s no secret they’re close. She spends a lot of time under the scrutiny—” Buck frowns; maybe I’m using words he doesn’t understand. “The watchful eye of the media. If you make it seem like you’re all up in that, how do you think it will look?”
“I know what scrutiny means. I don’t want people to think Sunny is a puck bunny.”
He continues to stroke his beard as he ponders what I’ve said.
“I’m sure you don’t. Just like you don’t want people to think I’m one for sleeping with Alex, even though I’ve done a good job making myself look like one, anyway.”
“I thought we agreed not to talk about that. It was bad enough catching the end of it. I don’t like that you’re with him. Just because Waters isn’t taking puck bunnies home right now doesn’t mean he’s a changed man.”
“That’s like the yeti calling the Sasquatch hairy.”
He runs a hand self-consciously over his forearm. “What?”
“You do realize Alex thinks you’re after his sister to get back at him for me, right? Imagine how he feels believing you’re doing his sister, knowing the number of girls you’ve put your doodle into.”
“Yeah, ’cause Waters’ rep is so much better.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s not really a manwhore. It’s all just public misconception.”
Oh God. I don’t think I should’ve said that. Alex’s non-whoriness is probably something we should discuss, which is absolutely insane.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Never mind. Forget I said anything.” It’s the wrong thing to say because it evokes curiosity.
“What kind of bullshit is Waters feeding you?”
Buck’s face starts to get red as unnecessary anger sets in. He reminds me of The Hulk, which reminds me of my underwear, which reminds me of Alex’s mother walking into his room while his hand was in the flap. Stupid, humiliating unlocked door.
“It’s not important. Besides, this isn’t about Alex and me. It’s about you and Sunny, and you telling your boys you banged her so you can be the man. It’s immature. You’re making her look bad. Is that what you want?”
He hangs his head in shame. “No. Definitely not.”
“Then stop being an asshole. Now get out of my pool house. I have a date, and I don’t want you here when Alex picks me up.”
He points the cucumber at me. “I still don’t like that you’re dating him.”
“And I still don’t care.” I open the door and shoo him out.
Maybe Sunny can do the impossible and tame Buck. If he screws this up, it’s going to make things hella awkward for Alex and me.
Alex and I spend as much time together as we can over the weeks following his return, although constant practice, away games, and preparation for playoffs keep him busy. We don’t go out apart from picking up the occasional takeout; Alex is trying to keeps things low key after the fight and the locker room sex.
During his interviews to dispel the rumors, Alex is as evasive as ever, neither confirming nor denying anything. It reminds me of the Hat Trick interview. I understand the reasons for his non-answers and the omission, but it makes me nervous. While the pictures of him and I leaving the stadium after the locker sex are unclear, there are plenty more from later in the evening with us together.
When our relationship is brought up in one interview, he dodges the question altogether, as if it wasn’t even asked. I’ve gone from being no one important to the topic of speculation in the gossip rags. The attention is foreign. I don’t want to be seen as Alex’s puck bunny. Beyond that, I worry about how I’ll be perceived at work by my colleagues.
I can’t decide whether I’m being paranoid or if my fears have legitimate basis. He’s so considerate when we’re together; it’s hard to know how much is a result of my own insecurities.
Our weeks blend together, and the April thaw brings wet weather followed by the promise of May sunshine and warmth. Tonight is a rare evening without obligations, so we’re making use of his back porch. Not having sex. Yet.
I discovered his black onyx Scrabble board and challenged him to a word-off.
“Let’s talk about the rules,” he says as he sets up the board and shakes the bag of tiles.
“They’re right here.” I hold up the booklet that contains the rules as well as the list of two letter words I’ve memorized. Those come in handy at the end of the game.
“I have a few new ones.”
“New rules?”
Alex crosses his legs, getting comfortable. “Mmm. I’d like to up the stakes a little.”
“Is that so?” I’m just as good at Scrabble as I am at air hockey. The key to Scrabble isn’t creative words, it’s in the points.
“All words need to be a minimum of four letters, with no less than ten points, and they need to be dirty.”
“Or what happens?”
He grins. “Or you take off an article of clothing.”
“Strip Scrabble?” I crack my knuckles. “You’re so on.”
“Says the accountant to the English major. Get ready to get beat.”
“Pfft.” I take a dainty sip of my wine. It’s so good. Alex has an entire wine cellar. He has a particular fondness for Niagara Rieslings, and now I do, too. They’re sweet and crisp, and I could guzzle a bottle no problem. I want to win this Strip Scrabble competition, so I won’t. “Your snuffie is going to be hanging out long before my beaver.”
“We’ll see about that.”
We pick tiles to see who goes first. I get lucky with my selection and start the board with “clit.”
The challenge of dirty words with four letters isn’t so much the issue; it’s that so many of them contain the letter C.
We go back and forth, me consistently making smutty four letter words, such as slut, poon, and anal. Alex comes up with a questionable Q word he wants to use on the triple letter title. I let him get away with it since I’m kicking his ass so badly.
Alex currently has seven vowels, so he’s having trouble forming a smutty word. I think he’s stalling so I’ll drink more wine and become incapable of making good words. He drops an A between the letter V in beave and the G in gonad to make the word vag.
“That’s only three letters. Take something off.” I lick my lips in anticipation.