Must Love Dogs...and Hockey

by Kelly Jamieson

  “Yes.” She closes the door. “Glass of wine?”

  “Sure.”

  She sets down Otis and I watch her move to the tiny kitchen. Her hair is on top of her head in a bunch of messy loops. She’s wearing pink-and-gray flannel pajama pants and a huge, baggy gray sweatshirt. The loose clothes hide her shape, but I can’t take my eyes off her as I shrug out of my overcoat.

  She returns with a glass of wine, Otis padding after her. When she sits on the couch, he jumps up beside her. I take the glass and sit on the couch too, Otis between us. Well, he got me in the door, I guess I can’t be too annoyed at that.

  She picks up the remote and turns off the TV, then relaxes back into the couch cushions with her own glass of wine. “Bad night?”

  “Fuck.” I take a gulp of wine. “Fuck, yeah.”

  “It was so close,” she says. “I thought you guys had it when Bergen scored that goal. Only a few minutes left.”

  “We lost because of me.” My voice is harsh. I drink more wine.

  She frowns, then rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on.”

  “Seriously. Coach reamed my ass out and trashed me in front of the whole team over that pass I tried to make.”

  “Oh no.” She sips her wine, regarding me over the rim of her glass with warm eyes. “The goal wasn’t all your fault, though.”

  I rub my jaw. “I was stupid. I should’ve just shot the puck at the net. Idiot.”

  “Hey. Your coach does enough of a number on you. You don’t need to do it to yourself.”

  I blow out a breath. “Right.”

  “I guess I don’t know the game well enough to understand what happened. It was so fast. But it seemed to me that when they got that breakaway, your defense guys should have stopped them.”

  “Yeah. Bad move by Jammer too, getting caught deep.”

  “Jammer?”

  “Jamal Jordan.”

  “Ah.”

  “Not to mention your goalie should have stopped that shot.”

  A reluctant smile teases my lips.

  “And the one in overtime,” she adds firmly. “Like, come on, no hockey player ever claims he won the game all by himself, right?”

  I frown. “Of course not.”

  “Therefore, no player loses the game all by himself either.”

  “You’re right.” More tension eases out of my muscles. I know that. I’ve had teamwork drilled into me since I was six years old. But hearing her tell me that in her soft but confident voice, even though she doesn’t realize how atrocious my mistake was, somehow relaxes me and quiets the shit I’m giving myself in my head.

  Otis jumps down from the couch, walks over to the fireplace, and curls up on the floor.

  I lean my head back and close my eyes.

  “You’re still wearing your suit.”

  I roll my head and open one eye. “Yeah.” I tug at the knot of my tie. “I just grabbed Otis’s leash when I got home. I could get rid of this.” I toss my tie aside and unbutton the top buttons of my shirt.

  “You look hot in a suit.”

  Did she really just say that?

  I slowly turn to face her again. Our eyes meet in a burst of sparks that I feel prickle all over my skin. “Thanks.”

  She bites her bottom lip in a way that has my dick stirring.

  “You look hot in pajamas.”

  She glances down at herself and laughs. “These are the unsexiest clothes ever.” She straightens her legs to survey her feet, covered in fuzzy pink socks.

  “Well, truthfully, you always look hot, so it probably doesn’t matter.”

  Her cheeks rosy up. Her long eyelashes drift down, then back up. Heat shimmers around us. We’re both saying things we probably shouldn’t, but I don’t care. She is hot. I’ve thought that from the moment my dog attacked hers in the park. I don’t care if she’s my dog walker or my dishwasher or what the fuck ever. I want her.

  Her lips part and I focus on them…so plump and pink. Her breasts rise and fall beneath her gray shirt in quick breaths. My entire body seizes with arousal so fierce I can’t breathe.

  I think we both move, practically jumping each other, our mouths crashing together, and then we’re making out like horny teenagers on her couch, our hands everywhere, mouths joined in long, frantic kisses. I slide my tongue inside her mouth and her tongue teases mine. Christ, I’m so hard it hurts.

  She draws back and stares at me, eyes hazy, her mouth wet. “Oh wow.”

  I trace her cheek with my fingertips. “Yeah. Wow.”

  Chapter 11

  Lilly

  When Easton walked in looking so defeated and down, my heart contracted. I knew they’d lost the game, obviously, but it didn’t seem like a reason to be that devastated. Teams lose games all the time. I also knew he’d made a mistake near the end of the third period because the hockey commentators talked about it, but it didn’t register with me that his coach would be pissed and give him shit for it. I should have known, from what I’ve heard about him. Asshole.

  Not only did I want to make him feel better…I just wanted him. Dressed in his suit, looking so freaking hot and big and buff, hair falling over his forehead in that rebellious tumble, walking his dog…my ovaries pretty much exploded and hormones flooded my body.

  I’d been thinking about what it would be like…to be with him…even knowing we shouldn’t. But those hormones obliterated my common sense, and now we’re sitting on my couch, panting, staring at each other after the most explosive, heart-pounding, panty-melting kisses I’ve ever had.

  Holy shit.

  “Your roommate?” He murmurs.

  “She’s in bed.” I jerk my head toward the closed door at one end of the room. The apartment is a decent size by New York standards, but it’s still small.

  “Ah.” He rubs his thumb along my bottom lip.

  “My bedroom’s upstairs.” I gesture vaguely at the spiral staircase.

  “Let’s go there.” He pauses. “Okay?”

  “Yes.” I stand on weak legs and he rises too, picking up our glasses of wine from the table. I’d leave the wine; all I want is him. But it’s nice that he’s doing that and it doesn’t feel like he’s just trying to get me into the sack. It’s like he’s trying to…seduce me.

  I like it.

  I leave the lamps on, because who cares, and lead the way upstairs. I feel him behind me all the way up, and I hear Otis following too. Not sure how this is going to work, but we’ll figure it out.

  My bedroom and tiny bathroom occupy a sort of loft area in the apartment. I also have sliding doors onto a small deck at the back of the building. I love my bedroom; it’s my sanctuary. But it’s decorated with flea market finds, like the black iron bed frame, old oak nightstands, a painted dresser, and a chair I recovered with a pink-rose-patterned fabric, mixed with IKEA deals like the small desk and chair, the rug, and the piles of soft blankets and cushions on the poufy duvet, all in shades of rose and ivory and pale pink, different patterns and textures. The fairy lights around the sliding doors and above the bed come on when I flick the light switch. There isn’t an overhead light in the room, just the twinkling white lights and the antique lamp beside the bed.

  I don’t know what he’ll think of this. I turn to face him as he hands me my wineglass.

  “This is a cool room,” he says softly.

  “Thanks.” We watch each other as we sip our wine. Then we both turn to observe Otis curling up on the round rug in the corner, right in front of the big mirror that sits propped there. We face each other again, smiling.

  “Good boy,” he murmurs.

  “Yes.”

  He reaches out a hand and slides it around the back of my neck, beneath my hair. Shivers cascade down my spine as he pulls me toward him and kisses me again. Our mouths wet
and tasting like cabernet, we melt together. Heat ripples in my belly.

  “You taste amazing.” He kisses one corner of my mouth, then my cheek. “Like blackberries and spice.”

  “Mmm.” I tip my head to give him access and his lips graze over my jaw, my earlobe, the side of my neck. Pinpoints of sensation move over my skin and slide down my spine. “You taste so good too.”

  “Wanna taste you everywhere.” He sucks gently on the skin where my neck joins my shoulder.

  Flames burst low in my belly. Oh God. “I want you to.”

  He lifts his head and peers intently into my eyes. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I nod, knowing he’s checking in, appreciating it, and wanting him to know I’m definitely consenting. Definitely.

  He takes my wineglass and sets both on the dresser, then turns back to me and eases me toward the bed. “Do you think there’s enough pillows here?”

  I laugh softly. “We can get rid of them.” I sweep some onto the floor then pick up two more and toss them across the room. With his hands on my waist, he sits on the bed, then lies down, lifting me on top of him.

  I stretch out, loving the contact against his body from my aching breasts pressed against his chest, all the way down to our thighs. He runs his hands over me, squeezes my ass as we kiss, and I frame his face with my palms. Our mouths slide, tongues tangle, and we’re both making soft moaning noises. Then he takes one of my hands, his eyes fastened on my face, brings it to his mouth, and kisses it.

  God. My bones are dissolving I’m so turned on. We kiss again, my hand still in his, pressed to his chest. Then he slides his other hand into my hair and cups the back of my head, tilting it for a deeper kiss. I tug his shirt out from his pants and slip my hand under it. I want skin…hot, smooth, sexy skin. He feels so good, so firm and taut. I want to feel more and, daringly, I skim my hand down, lower, over the bulge behind his fly. Dear God, he’s enormous, so hard and hot. He groans, and I push back and up onto my knees, straddling one of his big thighs. He reaches for the hem of my sweatshirt.

  Our eyes meet and hold and I give him a tiny nod. My body is pulsing, burning up. He lifts my shirt and I raise my arms in the air to allow him to slowly remove it. My nipples tingle, my skin prickles all over, and my breasts swell. He leans up to kiss my stomach and my heart lurches when his mouth moves between my breasts as the shirt goes up. My breasts are right at his eye level.

  He tosses the shirt to the floor and studies me, his eyes dark and heavy lidded. “Fucking gorgeous,” he says hoarsely, wrapping his arms around me. He kisses between my breasts again, then turns his face, nips at the inside of one, and licks the nipple. My entire body seizes with delight. He kisses my nipples, then tugs one into his mouth. I feel it right between my legs and I can’t stop the greedy, needy noise that spills from my lips, my head falling back. He continues to suck and lick and nibble, and even moves back to admire my breasts, and I’m on fire, burning up. He presses his face between the full curves like he never wants to leave.

  A whining noise makes us both freeze.

  At the same time, we turn to peer over the side of the bed. Otis sits there, stubby tail quivering. Then Easton and I look back at each other. A giggle slips from my mouth. His lips quirk.

  He looks back at Otis. “Go lie down, Otis.” He waves a hand. “Lie down. Good boy.”

  Otis sadly pads over to the rug in front of the mirror.

  “Mood killer?” Easton asks.

  “No.” I bite my lip on a smile, then bend to kiss his mouth, touching his face, letting my fingertips rasp over his beard stubble. I shift off him and kneel next to him to work his belt and his fly open.

  His body vibrates beneath my hands and he mutters, “Christ, Jesus, yes.”

  I pull out his cock and it’s alive in my hand, pulsing, soft delicate skin over steel, hot and oh so beautiful. I brush my thumb over the glistening tip, sweep my hair behind my shoulder, and slowly lower my head. Easton drops his own head to the bed as my lips graze over him, and he groans.

  I wrap my fingers around his thick shaft and lick up and down, then trace my tongue over the firm, sculpted head. My pussy is aching, weeping. Then I take him into my mouth, swirling my tongue, tightening my lips around him. His hips jerk.

  “I want to touch you. So beautiful.” He reaches out and cups one of my breasts, its fullness filling his palm, his other hand caressing my back, then my arm from my shoulder to my hand. I shiver with pleasure at his slow, sensual touches.

  “Need the pants off,” he growls, and we both push his pants and underwear farther down his legs and off, along with his socks. I resume my position to suck him more, eager for more of his clean male taste and the feel of him in my mouth, so strong and thick. His hand finds my ass, still in my flannel PJ bottoms (I can’t believe I’m wearing such awful clothes!) and rubs over it.

  I rise back up onto my knees and he pulls down my pajama pants and panties slowly, caressing my skin as he does so, leaving wakes of shivers behind his fingers. He pauses to study my pierced belly button, then the triangle of hair on my mound, then he kisses my stomach. Then he wraps his arms around me and spins me onto my back.

  I give a breathless laugh and gaze up at him. His shirt hangs open, and I reach to push it back and off his shoulders. He has to pause to remove the cuff links at his wrists, which he tosses onto the nightstand, then he tugs the sleeves and it too disappears, and now we’re both completely, gloriously naked. It’s my turn to admire him above me—his lean torso, wide shoulders, and rippling muscles—as he moves between my legs. I study the tattoo on his left upper chest—what looks like a hockey team logo, a triangle with two crossed sticks and the word “Warriors.”

  “Oh yes…” My body quivers in anticipation of his touch there, and when his lips meet sensitive skin, a hard shudder wracks me. “Oh God!”

  He’s still moving leisurely, his lips soft on my lower lips, his tongue sliding over my flesh. I bend my leg up and rest my foot on his back, throwing one arm up over my head and sliding my other hand into his thick, silky hair. Pleasure whips through me, every nerve ending burning. My body undulates as he licks and sucks and flicks his tongue over my clit, and I push my hand behind my head to hold it up to watch him.

  So beautiful. His eyes closed, thick eyelashes on his cheeks, his mouth working magic, it’s almost unbearable. Throbbing sensations rocket through me. Then his eyes fly open and he’s staring right into mine with a blazing intensity. My heart clutches, then races. I almost can’t breathe. “I want you inside me,” I whisper. “Please. I need it.”

  It’s been a long time and I can’t stand the sharp pinch of desire inside me.

  He moves up over me and kisses my mouth, leaving my own taste on my lips. Then it’s my turn to flip him, although I can do it only because he lets me. With a carnal smile on his face, he grips my hips so I’m straddling him but holds me over him. “We need a condom, gorgeous.”

  I bite my lip, impatience straining inside me. “Right. Right. In the drawer.” I gesture and he throws an arm out to yank open the nightstand drawer. I lean over and rummage around, emerging with a small packet. Do I do it for him? Give it to him? Beset with uncertainty, I hesitate.

  His smile still sensual, his eyes warm, he plucks it from me, tears it open, and I shift to watch him expertly don it. Holy hell, that is so fucking sexy, I think I’m dying. His hands are big, his cock is enormous, his balls are full and taut, and I’m destroyed.

  “Okay,” he murmurs, reaching for me again. “Come here. I want to fuck you so bad.”

  “Yessssss.”

  He grips his cock and finds my entrance. I’m shaking, flaming, and I lean forward and reach for the iron headboard and curl my fingers around it. He lifts his head to suck my nipples again as his cock fills me. It’s too much, but not enough. I need more…deeper. There. I lower myself onto him and he’s so deep inside me i
t almost hurts. And it’s still not enough. “Fuck me,” I beg him.

  His hands slide down my back and curve around my ass cheeks. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” he groans, squeezing my butt. “Christ, you feel good. Amazing.”

  I let go of the headboard and fall on top of him, finding his mouth with mine in a desperate, hungry kiss. I want him everywhere, kissing my mouth, fucking my pussy.

  His hand on the back of my thigh pulls my leg higher against his side as he pumps his hips up, fucking up into me. I push up onto straight arms and match his rhythm, staring into his eyes, then rise the rest of the way to kneel. Our hands join, fingers clasping each other tightly as I bounce up and down on him, then I lean back. My hair falls behind me. He runs his palm over my abdomen, watching where we’re joined.

  “Beautiful,” he rasps. “Holy shit, that’s hot…my cock sliding in and out of that sweet, tight pussy.” He holds my hips and lifts me up and down on his cock, then he jackknifes up to sit, so easily, his abs contracting. I clasp his face, we kiss again, then he falls onto his back and lifts me off him. His strength is impressive…exciting.

  Our eyes still connected, I turn over onto my back, holding my hair behind my head, and I smile at him. I’ve never felt so confident during sex, so unconstrained. He’s athletic and strong, and the way he looks at me makes me feel desirable. Powerful.

  He kneels between my legs, kisses me slowly over my stomach, my nipples, then my mouth, slow, clinging, erotic kisses. I reach between us for his cock, rub it over my wet pussy, then guide him back inside. He kisses the side of my neck as he moves, thrusting in, gliding out, fucking me with dirty sweetness. His cock sliding over nerve endings inside me has sensations mingling with the feel of him rubbing on my clit. Pleasure grows inside me, swelling big and hot, coiling tight. I slide my hands from his head down his sleek back to his amazing ass, so firmly muscled, feeling it flex as he fucks me. He plants his fist into the bed and drives into me harder. “I’m so close…” I gasp. “I just need…” I find my clit with my fingertips and in seconds that coiling heat twists up into a sharp, exquisite point that shatters and detonates splinters of heat through my body.