by Claire Adams
The problem was that I had no idea what the actual problem was; he didn’t seem insecure, and he didn’t seem to be distracted by me. If he was distracted by me, then I would have just left. This was not a time for me to enjoy the flattering feelings of a guy being so distracted he couldn’t work for thinking about me. But Johnny wasn’t even looking at me very much. He just wasn’t as quick, wasn’t as focused, wasn’t as aggressive on the ice as he normally was. I bit my bottom lip and worried it between my teeth. The second period was quickly winding down, and we hadn’t even been able to make up the lead the other team had on us. I didn’t even know if it was remotely possible to make up a three-point lead in such a short time. We would have the last period of the game to try and make it up, but if the other team kept up at the rate that they were going, it wouldn’t matter if we had a whole three more periods.
Johnny needed to get his mind off of whatever was clouding it. He needed to…I bit my lip again, watching him on the ice. I tried to figure out what was going on in his head. I tried to think of what would help him, something I could do. I was getting antsy, and I could hear in the commentator’s voice that he knew that the team was in trouble without Johnny’s usual aggressive style. But of course, he couldn’t say anything about it really. He couldn’t suggest anything. He had to remain as neutral as possible; the most I heard the man say was that Johnny “looked like he was in trouble this evening.”
The buzzer ticked down the last few minutes of the period, and I was at a loss. The other team scored another goal! They were four points ahead—even with the last period of the game to go, four points ahead was a difficult thing to come back from. It was almost hopeless. In fact, most of the seasoned fans around us were saying that the best that the team could hope for to come back from that was that they could, with a lot of luck, bring it up to a tie and make it a shoot-out. Somehow, that sounded less than promising to me. They had to make a comeback. They had to get in the game; Johnny had to get in the game. I looked at Georgia as the regulation clock ticked down the last few seconds and then the buzzer sounded announcing the intermission. I saw Johnny, his face sweaty as he took of his mask and helmet, and an idea occurred to me all at once. “Georgia, hold my seat again,” I said, feeling giddy and breathless.
“You’re not going to beat someone up, are you?”
I shook my head. “I’ll be back. I swear.” Georgia looked at me and I felt myself blushing, but I wasn’t about to explain the idea that had popped into my head just yet. “I’ll be back in time for the third period.”
Chapter Nine
I found my way over to the locker room where I saw the last of the players filing in, looking less than happy with how the game was going. I bit my lip. I knew that Johnny was distracted. I knew that everyone was distracted, really. But the idea I had in my head of talking to him was not exactly orthodox. But really, I thought, what else could I do? I didn’t think I could work any kind of magic, but I knew that it had helped in the past for Johnny to talk to me, just as it helped me to talk to Johnny. Maybe if we could talk, I could get to the bottom of what was distracting him and we could fix it. I hoped.
I saw the goalie heading for the locker room and took a deep breath. “Hey,” I said. “Hey!” the goalie looked up from his gear and blinked at the sight of me.
“You’re Johnny’s girl, right?” he said. “What are you doing out here instead of screaming your head off in the stands?” I blushed.
“Look, could I…could I talk to Johnny real quick?” I bit my bottom lip. The goalie rolled his eyes with a grin.
“Look, he’ll have plenty of time for you after the game, even if he does lose.”
I put my hands on my hips, getting irritated. “I’ve had a really long day, and honestly, I’m at the point right now where if you don’t get him, I’ll just walk in there and find him myself.” The goalie’s eyes widened with respect.
“Coach says women weaken the legs—we’ll just not tell coach,” he said, winking at me. “Stay right here. I go find him for you.”
I knew the intermission wasn’t very long; I fidgeted, pacing back and forth while I waited for Johnny to show up. Of course, I had no way of actually knowing if the goalie had just been humoring me or if he had actually gone to get my boyfriend. I wondered what he thought I wanted to do to Johnny. I closed my eyes and grinned to myself; I had a really good idea of what I wanted to do to Johnny. I just couldn’t do it here; I’d have to wait until after the game.
Just when I was starting to lose all faith, thinking that the goalie either hadn’t been able to get to Johnny, hadn’t tried, or that Johnny hadn’t been able to sneak out, he appeared. My legs went weak at the knees; Johnny had his mask and helmet off, but he was still in all the rest of his gear, looking even more muscular and gorgeous with his face and hair shining with sweat. “Johnny!” I hurried to close the distance between us, throwing my arms around his broad shoulders, pulling myself up to kiss him on the lips.
“Babe, what’s going on?” I asked. Johnny smiled at me, brushing his lips against mine, but the next moment he looked uncertain.
“I don’t know what it is, Becky-baby, but I just… I don’t feel on my game.” His hands started to wander along the curves of my body, and I frowned up at him in thought. The way his hands slid down to my hips sent a shiver down my spine, and I realized what it was that Johnny needed—what would put him back on his game again. I leaned up onto the balls of my feet and kissed him hungrily.
“Come on,” I said, breaking away from the kiss to look around. Johnny’s eyes were full of confusion. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him around a corner into a tiny little closet that was fortunately unlocked. I think it must have been some kind of supply closet that got forgotten or just wasn’t in use. I pulled Johnny into it with me and smiled up at him. “I know exactly what you need,” I told Johnny slowly; I kissed him again, my hands moving to his uniform pants. I had never taken them off of him before. He had always been changed into regular clothes when we’d had sex. But Johnny got what I was doing and chuckled against my lips, his hands reaching down to help me.
I reached into his uniform pants, pushing my hand down underneath his underwear. I kissed Johnny again as I wrapped my hand around his thick cock, smiling against his lips as I felt him starting to harden immediately. I stroked him slowly, working him as quickly as I could as I knew we didn’t have very much time, either until the intermission before the third period of the game ended or until someone might come check out the closet we had found. Johnny moaned as I stroked him, and I felt him getting harder and harder. He touched and groped me everywhere. I found myself getting more and more turned on, my pussy getting wet, tightening at the thought of what I could be enjoying—if only we had the time. But I reminded myself that I was focusing on him. This was about Johnny, not about me. I sank down onto my knees in front of him, pulling his uniform pants and underwear down, and Johnny’s cock immediately sprung free, almost slapping me in the face. I chuckled, looking up at him. Johnny was blushing slightly at the incident, but was obviously intrigued by what I had in mind.
I wrapped my hand firmly around the base of his cock and stroked him slowly while I leaned in, licking my lips thoroughly. This will have to be quick, I thought. I couldn’t torment him. I needed to just get him off as fast as possible. I looked up at Johnny’s face; his eyes were dark with lust, his lips parted as he panted slightly at the sight of me moving closer and closer to his cock. I wrapped my lips around just the tip, flicking my tongue out to taste him. Johnny smelled like sweat, but clean sweat, not the stale gross kind that tended to go along with sports gear and the locker room. I licked at the salty-sweet taste of his skin, sucking him lightly. Johnny moaned, his hands sliding into my hair, his body arching against the wall of the closet. “Shhh,” I said, barely breaking away from his skin. “Don’t want someone to come in here and kick you out before you’ve finished, do you?” Johnny shook his head desperately, and I snorted, going back to my atten
tions.
I took more and more of him into my mouth gradually, working my tongue up and down along the length of his thick, hard cock, pressing against the underside, flickering along the sensitive head. Johnny tried to suppress his moans, but I knew he was almost completely unable to hold himself back. I heard him muffle them against his padded arm. I smiled to myself, getting more and more turned on by the moment just from the act of going down on Johnny like this, in the dark, where anyone might find us. The fact that we didn’t have much time only made me more excited. The fact that his teammates were only yards away only made it more thrilling. I thought wryly that it would be all well and good for Johnny—he was going to get off—but I was going to have a difficult time focusing through the third period, I was so turned on. Johnny’s fingers tangled in my hair, pulling gently, and I heard him murmuring praise and compliments, as I worshipped him with my lips and tongue, moaning at the taste of the precum flowing from the tip.
I was certain that Johnny was right on the edge, that just one or two minutes more would make him come, get him off, and then I could send him back into the locker room a satisfied man back on his game. But instead of hitting his orgasm, Johnny stopped me, pushing me gently off of him and lifting me up onto my feet. He touched me everywhere, kissing me hungrily, his hands sliding up underneath my t-shirt to cup my breasts. He nipped and nibbled along my throat and then moved back up to my lips, pressing me against he wall he had only just been arching and twisting against. “God, Becky, I have to have you. Please say yes,” Johnny murmured. I was too turned on to even think of saying no.
“You…you have to be fast,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Johnny laughed. He lifted me up into his arms and pinned my back against the wall of the closet, kissing me hungrily. Somehow, Johnny managed to unbutton the fly of my jeans and work them down over my hips, taking my panties down with them. His fingers slid along my slick labia, touching me lightly at first and then stroking me more and more firmly.
“Shit, I wish we had more time,” Johnny murmured against my lips, tugging my jeans down as far as he could. I tried to wrap my legs around his waist; we were tangled up in my clothes, but for the moment it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I absolutely had to have Johnny inside of me, I had to feel him. Johnny’s moan as he rocked his hips against mine, rubbing his cock along my soaking wet folds, told me he felt the same way about being inside of me. I nipped along the line of his throat, moving up to his lips. Somehow it was both weird and incredibly hot that Johnny didn’t even have the time to take off his gear or jersey. He held me up against the wall, and I could feel the fabric damp with sweat everywhere, feel the muscles underneath the padding and resins that protected Johnny from the most serious injuries.
Then he was thrusting into me, and I moaned out, forgetting for a moment that we were right in the middle of a closet in the stadium, that anyone could walk past at any time. Johnny covered my lips with his own and swallowed down the sound of my moans, thrusting deeper and deeper into me in hard, fast movements. I gripped at his shoulders as best as I could, kissing him everywhere I could reach, touching him all over. It felt so good to be with him again, even like this, a quickie in the middle of the stadium; I tingled all over, and I felt myself getting wetter and wetter as Johnny rubbed against me with every thrust, bringing friction to bear on my clit. I lost all track of time, lost in the feeling of Johnny inside of me, the need for more, and my desire to have him fully naked and in my bed. I knew it was impossible and that I should be paying more attention, but it was too good.
It might have been five minutes, ten—I never knew how long afterwards, because time had stood still in the closet—but I found myself getting so incredibly turned on that I couldn’t stop moaning against Johnny’s lips, against his neck and shoulder, and all of a sudden, the first wave of pleasure crashed through me. I gasped and shivered, clinging to him, and I felt my muscles tensing and relaxing in erratic spasms as I pushed my hips down to meet his thrusts. “This…this is just…just like the country club,” I managed to gasp out. Johnny groaned, nodding his agreement as he began to lose the last of his control.
I felt Johnny’s cock twitching inside of me even in the depths of my orgasm, felt the sticky-slick gush flooding into me as I twisted my hips down to meet his, intent on making it last for both of us as long as we could both manage. I had no idea whether we had missed the beginning of the remaining period or not; for a few seconds, maybe a minute, as we both reeled from the force of the orgasms we’d given each other, it didn’t matter. Johnny held me and I kept my arms wrapped tightly around him, brushing my lips along his sweaty neck.
“Shit,” I said, remembering abruptly what the whole point of the exercise had been. I gave Johnny’s shoulder a shove. “You have to get back out there!” I said. Johnny pulled back from my neck and looked at me briefly in confusion. I laughed, shaking my head at him. “Championship game, remember?” Johnny’s eyes widened, and he let me down along the wall gently, waiting until I was steady on my feet to start fixing his clothes and gear. He gave me a quick kiss.
“You are the best girlfriend any guy could ever have, you know that?” He asked me, giving my hand a squeeze. “I promise I’ll win this game.” I rolled my eyes.
“You don’t have to promise to win, just play like your mind is on it,” I told him. Johnny grinned.
“My team always wins.”
“Prove it, then,” I said with a shrug. I pointed to the door, laughing to myself. I took a moment to recover from what we had just been doing, giggling to myself. I knew that it would be a couple of minutes before the game would actually start again. I had a minute or two to make sure my clothes were all straightened out and I didn’t look a total mess before going back out to the stands. Although it wasn’t as if Georgia wouldn’t have an inkling of what had happened during the intermission after she saw Johnny starting to play again. I laughed to myself.
I thought about just what I wanted to do with—and to—Johnny once the game was over. Whether he won or not, I loved him, and I wanted to let him feel that as often as he would let me. I darted into the bathroom on my way back to the stands to check on myself, make sure there weren’t any telling red spots, and to clean myself up a little bit. I remembered the last time Johnny and I had been together; it had been in the shower, with me confused, scared, and upset by what my mother had told me about Johnny’s former girlfriend and what had happened to her.
I could still remember his hands moving all over me in the hot water, the way he had touched me everywhere, and the way he had felt inside me. No other guy I had ever been with felt as good as Johnny or as right. He somehow knew exactly how I wanted it without me telling him. I blushed, thinking of him talking me into giving him the tour of my parents’ house, up to my room, only to use it as an excuse to fool around and then screw around in my teenage bedroom.
I heard the buzzer ringing in the pattern that meant that the game was starting up again. I got back out there to make sure I didn’t miss a moment.
Chapter Ten
I darted to the seating area, but made sure to slow down my pace before I was in front of anybody, making my way over to where Georgia was still watching my seat for me in a casual saunter. I felt like laughing. I felt like running over to where Johnny was and throwing him down onto the ice and having my way with him right there, but I settled for sitting down next to Georgia with a big grin on my face.
“I like the look of that,” Georgia said, snickering. “Where did you go?”
I shrugged lightly. “I am pretty sure you’ll want to catch this period,” I said. “I think you’ll find that the team, especially Johnny, are much better.”
Georgia giggled. “Is that so?” She looked at me speculatively, and I shrugged. “Do I even want to know how you come to this conclusion?”
“I believe,” I said, looking at the sidelines in time to see Johnny coming out and grinning to myself, “that certain…tensions have been managed.
But of course, who knows how that could have come to pass?” Georgia and I giggled amongst ourselves, waiting for the remaining period of the game to start. I was anxious to see how Johnny would do—I knew that I would still love him if he didn’t win, obviously, but I knew that he wanted so badly to win and prove that he could come back from what had happened. He wanted to show everyone what fools they had been to judge him.
The player who came out in the third period was 180 degrees different from the one who had stepped onto the ice at the beginning of the game. Johnny hit the ice with all the confidence, speed, aggression, and certainty that he had ever possessed in his life. I laughed, unable to help myself, I was so delighted. Johnny was up and down the ice, barreling through other players, stealing the puck, making up for what he had lost out on earlier in the game. Before long, Johnny had managed to bring them to only two points down. He was on fire, and I was screaming along with everyone else on our side—even the people who had been booing him before couldn’t help but get swept up in the fever.
As the game continued, we were still two points down. I watched Johnny, crossing my fingers that he wouldn’t lose hope. I wondered if he noticed that the other team was struggling to keep up their defensive game, utterly confused by the change that had come over our team in a matter of only a few minutes. “If they actually pull out a win, I think you should be MVP,” Georgia murmured to me. I elbowed her, laughing and shaking my head. If the team managed to pull out a win, I was going to spend the rest of the weekend screwing Johnny’s brains out—which, incidentally, was also what I was going to do if the team didn’t manage to win.
One of Johnny’s teammates scored a point, and they were down by only one as the clock continued to tick down. I watched as Johnny aimed for the other team’s most aggressive player—the one who had sent him sprawling onto the ice facedown. I gasped, but I was secretly pleased when I watched Johnny knock into the guy hard enough to send him into the wall. He tumbled back down onto the ice as Johnny had intercepted the puck. He was flying down the ice, dodging and shoving, darting around the other team’s players in the way that only Johnny seemed to be able to do. The clock was ticking down, and I knew I wasn’t the only one clenching my hands in nervous fists. If they could get the score even, they could have a shoot-out—but only if Johnny managed to get the puck in the net. Only if he or one of his teammates got one more goal.