“This is nice. Full body contact.”
She murmured her agreement. He had his hands on her thighs, the thumbs stroking gently. She was intensely aware of his hard cock nestled between her butt cheeks, remembering how he’d tasted and felt when she’d had him in her mouth. He’d been so surprised. His barely controlled reactions had been intensely satisfying, not to mention exciting. Every time he’d moaned, her desire for him went up another notch. It got to the point where she’d fought a war inside herself. To feel him come inside her mouth, his cock pulsing between her lips as he arched his back in pleasure—that would be incredible. And yet, she selfishly wanted to share the sensations with him and finally know what it felt like to have him inside her, filling her as deep as he could go. He ended up making the decision for her, and she was totally fine with that because at the moment his fingers were brushing against the curls of her mound, delving, searching for and finding the wetness, then drawing it upward with soft strokes. She sighed as the pleasure hummed inside her.
“That feels good,” she murmured, closing her eyes.
His reply was to press his flattened hand against her and move it in circles. Of course he wouldn’t go straight for the clit like a kid offered free candy. He was a thoughtful man, a mature man and she knew instinctively that she could surrender her body to him and not be disappointed. Could she trust him with her heart too? That remained to be seen. Maybe.
His other hand was now at her entrance. She’d grown restless, wanting more and when she felt his fingers probing and stroking, she got even more edgy, but he took his time. Panting slightly, she watched as he worked his middle finger inside her, bit by tantalizing bit, all the while continuing his slow, circling massage.
She was going to go insane.
“You’re so goddamned wet, Chevy. So wet and so tight.” His voice was pitched at a low, intimate register as his finger went rhythmically in and out. It felt good but she needed more.
His hand cupped her breast, pinching and then rolling the sensitive nipple. She moaned. The hand down below was working faster and the sensations were building.
“That’s it, Chevy. Let it happen. Think about how good it’s going to feel when I get my cock inside you. I’m going to make you come so hard.”
He inserted two fingers and used the heel of his hand now against her clit. The pleasure intensified as he continued to talk dirty to her. It was like having really great interactive phone sex. He read her reactions perfectly, sensing when she needed him to go for the final push and when she gave several sharp gasps in a row, he hooked his legs over hers, holding her immobile as he drove her toward her orgasm. She bucked and shuddered in his arms, helpless to do anything but feel. All the while, he spoke into her ear, that rough voice soothing and encouraging and praising her.
Eventually, she floated back to solid ground and as she tried to catch her breath, he slipped out from under her. She heard him open a condom. She’d left one on the nightstand in plain sight.
“Cole, I feel so good right now.”
“We’re just getting warmed up,” he said, sliding into position between her open thighs. He took himself in hand, lined up the head and eased in, she wondered why she’d resisted for so long. It felt glorious. Using increasingly deeper shifts of his hips, he entered her one excruciating inch at a time. Damn. She’d expected good sex, not sex that was going to ruin her for any other man.
She might have worried about this a bit more if not for the fact that Cole had buried himself to the hilt inside her and was now beginning to move in earnest. His strokes were long and so fluid that the pleasure was almost continuous. And the way he looked down at her so intensely… It made her feel as if she was the most important thing in his life right now and she didn’t know how to deal with that. She was definitely not used to that. Mason only made her feel important when he felt like it or on special occasions, like her birthday or Valentine’s Day. With Cole, she got the feeling that she’d be a priority no matter what. It might have scared her, except she’d made it clear that no assumptions would be made when they returned home to San Diego.
He brought his mouth down to hers again, in no apparent hurry to finish. Again, unlike Mason. Giving credit where credit was due, Mason did go down on her and make her orgasm, but her sex life with him had been weirdly unsatisfying. She’d always felt like there should have been more to it.
Now she knew she’d been right.
She could tell by the expression on Cole’s face that he was going to give her another orgasm or die trying. Mason was only this serious when he was cooking.
“You feel so good, Chevy,” Cole murmured. “So, so good.”
He gave her another bone-melting kiss as he rolled them both over so she was straddling him. “Is this okay?”
She nodded, taking up the rhythm he’d started. He reached out and caressed her breasts.
“You look so unbelievably sexy right now,” he said, squeezing and massaging.
“Oh yeah?” Knowing he had a thing for her hair, she lifted and held it, aware that her breasts rose higher as she did so.
“Fuck, yeah…” A mixture of awe and hunger shone in his eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.”
She let her hair cascade down as she rocked her hips against him, loving how he filled her. It had been so long since she had sex and it had never, ever been this good. It amazed her how in sync they were. She placed her hands on either side of his head and he got the message, crunching his abs and latching onto a nipple and sucking so hard, she gasped.
Their tempo increased and she felt him ramp up his focus. Placing his hands firmly on her hips, he held her still and thrust.
“I want you to come again,” he said.
“Don’t worry about me,” she replied, meaning it.
His brows drew together as he fucked her harder.
“Come down. Put your arms around my neck.”
When she did so, he wrapped his own arm around her lower back and rolled them back over so he was on top. Instead of laying on her again, this time, he remained on his knees and raised her legs perpendicular to the bed and pounded her. The change of angle was so intense, she came almost immediately. Gasping, she cried out, clutching at the comforter as the pleasure assailed her. She heard him grunt with satisfaction as he continued to slam his hips against her. A few more hard thrusts and he stiffened and closed his eyes. His face was red and both of them were covered with sweat. The tendons in his neck stood out and he exhaled hard through gritted teeth.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
She rocked her hips against him and he gave her a few more thrusts before slowing and finally stopping. He moved forward and as he rested some of his weight on her, she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer against her. He was heavy, but it felt good. Comforting.
Their mouths met. The kiss was hot and salty, and when he pulled away and withdrew, she immediately missed the fullness of him inside her.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
“As if I could move,” she said.
He smiled and she watched him walk to the bathroom, his magnificent glutes flexing with each step. For the umpteenth time she marveled at how beautiful his body was. When he returned to the bed, she slid over next to him and rested her head on his chest. His arm curled around her.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m wonderful. That was amazing.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Agreed. Amazing to the millionth power. But I knew it would be.”
“Yes, you did predict that. You’re like a regular Nostradamus.”
“And you didn’t believe me, did you?”
Oh, she’d believed him. She just hadn’t wanted to admit it.
“You’re so damned cocky,” she said.
“It’s called confidence.”
“Not when you flaunt it.” She poked him in the side.
He paused and chuckled. “Okay, you’re right. I guess I was a little cocky.”
<
br /> “But I forgive you,” she said, “because that was amazing to the millionth power. Now what do you say to some room service? I’m starved.”
“Perfect. In my experience, room service takes an average of an hour to arrive, which is just enough time.”
“Time for what?” she asked.
He grinned as he rolled and got on top of her. “Silly question.”
11
It rained the day of the competition, a downpour like they never got in San Diego, but that Seattle residents seemed to take in stride. The gloomy weather seemed fitting since they did not win at the Chew and Brew. Fedora seemed to be taking it particularly hard. She hadn’t said much since they got the news. She just cleaned up her station grimly.
“Hey, you win some, you lose some,” Cole said, trying to console her. “We got first runner-up. I think that’s fantastic. This was only our first competition and we almost won the title.”
She scowled. “Cole, we lost. First runner-up is still losing.”
“I don’t know why you’re so upset. We beat out thirty-eight other contestants. That’s something to be proud of.”
“Yes,” she said, sliding her chef’s knife back into its holder. “Sort of like making it to the Stanley Cup Final and coming in second.”
He blinked. “Oh. Okay. I see what you mean.”
Not sure what else he could say, he gave up and went to give her hug. She resisted at first, still in a mood apparently, but eventually she succumbed and, to his great surprise, she buried her face in his chest and made an alarming noise that sounded like it might be a sob.
God, he really hoped she wasn’t crying. Just the thought of Fedora crying made his stomach twist itself into knots.
“Hey, hey, Chevy, it’s okay.”
She grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt. “I just really wanted to go home and show everyone I was a winner.” Her voice sounded so forlorn and so unlike the Fedora he knew. “I wanted to put that plaque on our wall. I wanted everyone to be proud of me.”
“They will be proud. You did damned good. Those chicken wings were outstanding and I’ll fight anyone who says different. Look, things like this are so subjective. It’s not like in hockey. Generally, a goal is a goal and whoever gets more of them wins. In this kind of thing it’s just opinion. All you can do is do your best and hope. It’s a crapshoot.”
“I scored them highly,” said a familiar voice.
Cole turned to see Anson Lau, of all people. He wore jeans, a thick sweater and a newsboy-styled cap.
Fedora straightened and pasted on a smile. He had to give her credit. It looked almost genuine. The only indication that she’d been crying was a brightness to her eyes.
“Fancy seeing you here,” she said as they shook hands. “Were you a judge?”
“I was a last minute substitution. A good friend of mine is one of the people who started the competition. He mentioned that one of their judges had to bow out and he really needed someone whose expertise was weighted on the culinary side. So here I am. I’m sorry you didn’t win. Your pairing was excellent. In fact, one of the first things I’m going to do when I get back home is visit Hat Trick. I have a little side trip to San Francisco before that, but you’ve whetted my appetite, Fedora. Truly.”
“Thank you, Anson. That means a lot.”
After he left, Fedora smiled at Cole, “Well, small consolation but at least I got his seal of approval.”
Cole didn’t smile back. There was something about Anson Lau Cole didn’t like. Something the man wasn’t saying. If he had a choice, he’d rather Lau did not visit Hat Trick upon returning to San Diego, but he didn’t tell Fedora that. She’d think he was crazy. Maybe he was. The man seemed polite enough, and yet…
Cole looked at his watch. “Okay, let’s clean up and get out of here.”
“Yeah, I’m exhausted.”
“Not too exhausted for a hockey game, I hope.” He’d gotten on the phone and made a couple of calls.
She glanced at him. “For real? You mean a Cascade game? I’ve never been to a live hockey game before.”
“Yep.”
She grinned. “I feel a second wind coming on.”
Naturally, Fedora was a Barracuda fan, seeing as how she worked for three ex-Barracudas, but with all the hoopla surrounding the Brew and Chew, she hadn’t even realized the team’s road trip coincided with the competition.
“How did you…?” she asked when she saw their seats were adjacent to the penalty box. “How far ahead did you plan this?”
He shrugged. “I talked to a couple people yesterday. There’s a certain amount of professional courtesy that goes on and these were the best seats, in my opinion, that were available.”
“This is going to be epic.”
The air in the arena vibrated with energy. Most of the spectators hadn’t arrived yet, but the players were on the ice warming up to some loud club music. They didn’t ever show this on TV. The warm-up almost looked choreographed. They fluidly wove in and out, making passes, firing shots, circling, moving, gliding from one maneuver to the next. Some of the players peeled off to stretch.
She recognized all the Barracudas and the knowledge that they were just on the other side of the glass thrilled her. These were men she’d cheered and cursed and admired, and here they were in person. Hart Griffin even made eye contact with her as he skated past and she fanned her face excitedly.
“He looked at me,” she cried. “Oh my gosh, Hart Griffin looked at me!”
With a wan smile, Cole looked decidedly unimpressed.
“Huh,” he said. “You’d think she never met a hockey player in person before.”
She batted him on the arm. “Stop it. It’s different.”
“I don’t see how.”
“I never saw you on TV. Even though I know you played, I just know you as Cole.”
He mulled that over as she returned to watching the warm up. Eventually, as if by some unspoken signal, they all left the ice.
“Cole, these are the most amazing seats. I mean, the penalty box is right there.” She went still. “What if there are no penalties? Does that happen? Are there ever games where no one goes to the box?”
“Sure, it happens, but not very often.”
Turned out Fedora got to see several different players up close and personal. Maybe a little too personal. One of the Cascades closed one nostril and blew a mini-geyser of snot right onto the floor. It was disgusting. Of course, she’d seen the players spit on TV, but in person, it was slightly nauseating. Then when a fight broke out, she was startled almost out of her skin. She’d been posting a picture to her Instagram when the crowd suddenly began yelling. She looked up to see two players going at it, fists flying, not three feet away from her. The ice caused them to drift slowly closer to her as they tried to land and avoid punches. One particularly fierce flurry of blows made her raise her hands defensively and cringe in Cole’s direction. He pulled her close protectively.
Again, on TV it was so much different. She liked watching the fights on TV. They brought so much energy and intensity to the game and she knew the combatants were often trying to right some wrong on behalf of their teammates. It was oddly chivalrous. However, in person and close-up, it was clear this was not staged. It wasn’t just for show like professional wrestling. This was real. These two players were not holding back and all the primitive ferocity that was muted on television shocked her.
All at once, it was over. The two players broke apart, exhausted, and were escorted to the box to serve their five-minute penalties.
Cole put his arm around her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. That was…really intense.” She felt shaky as she gulped down some water.
“Hockey’s not for sissies,” he said.
“No kidding.”
When the period ended, Fedora still felt rattled, which annoyed her. Was she that much of a wimp? And what was with turning to Cole like she was a teenager who couldn’t deal with watching a horror movi
e?
They ventured out to the concourse to get some food.
“Did you get in many fights?” she asked him as they stood in line for chili dogs.
Before he could answer, a feminine voice called out, “Hey! Cole Ripley!”
A woman wearing Barracuda colors turned to show them Cole’s last name on the back of her jersey. “I’m Debbie. Huge fan. I can’t believe you’re here!”
“I was here on business and wanted to take in a game.”
“Can I take a picture with you?” Debbie was standing on her tiptoes with her hands clasped in front of her.
“Of course.”
Fedora ended up taking the picture for Debbie, who proceeded to dominate Cole’s attention the entire time they were in line. To give credit where credit was due, Cole tried to include Fedora in the conversation, but the other woman pretty much ignored her. When they finally got their chili dogs, Debbie asked if she could get one more picture of herself kissing his cheek.
With an apologetic smile at Fedora, who had been wordlessly handed the phone again, he said, “Sure.”
When Debbie finally left them alone, they headed back to their seats. The encounter left Fedora feeling disgruntled and she wasn’t sure she liked that. She’d seen fans speak with Cole before at Hat Trick. This was a regular occurrence for all three of her bosses. San Diego was becoming more of a hockey town with every year that passed. So what was different about tonight?
She’d slept with Cole. That’s what was different. She’d known things would change between them if they went to bed together. Now that they were lovers, she was getting jealous over a perfectly innocent encounter. It was maddening and stupid. All she had to do was remember the stunning orgasms he’d given her last night—all afternoon, if she wanted to get technical—and poof. Those petty concerns disappeared. Fact was she couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room. If the trade-off for the most spectacular sex she’d ever had was a few fleeing moments of jealousy, she was fine with it.
Much later, they lay side by side in his king sized bed. They’d gone ahead and checked her out of her room, because no sense in paying for a room they weren’t using. They were both hot and sweaty, having just finished another world-rocking bout of amazing sex. Just now catching her breath, Fedora was awash with sexual satisfaction and a dreamy lassitude that made her feel as if she were floating in a secluded lagoon.
Crazy for Cole Page 8