Only One Chance

by Madison, Natasha

  “Considere me wooed,” she says, leaning in to suck my neck into her mouth. “Now, how about I see that firework you have in your pants?”

  With a groan, I let her go. “I can’t believe these words are coming out of my mouth,” I tell her, kissing her again. Always wanting to kiss her. “I want to savor this.”

  “I have a couple of places on me that need savoring.” She winks at me, and I turn and walk into the house as she tightens her legs around me. I walk over to the couch, and she slips off me. I shrug off my jacket to toss it to the side, and she does the same.

  “I want to do this the right way,” I tell her, and she looks at me, confused. “I want you so much.” I swallow. “More than I want to go to Disney and a bit less than I want to win the Stanley Cup.”

  She laughs now. “I’m glad I made that list.” She pulls me down to sit next to me. “But you’re right.” She snuggles next to me. “I haven’t dated someone in a long, long time.” I try not to let it get to me. “I haven’t wanted to date someone in a long, long time.”

  I grab the phone out of my jacket. “I’m going to google what couples do on the first date.”

  She laughs now, filling the room. “Please tell me what it says.”

  “Laugh all you want …” I look down at the phone. “Google has not led me wrong.”

  “Google told you not to contact me for five days.” She points out, and I shrug. “So what does it say?”

  “Be confident is the first one,” I tell her, smiling. “Check that one off the list.” I look down and read the rest to her. “Pay attention to her body language.”

  “My body language was dry humping you at the front door,” she says, and I swear I haven’t laughed so hard in my life. She grabs the phone from me.

  “What are you doing?” I ask her.

  “I’m going to google how many people have sex on the first date,” she tells me and then gasps. “I’m the man in the relationship.” I grab the phone from her, looking down at it and scrolling.

  “Oh, look at the survey,” I tell her. “We should do it.” She takes the phone from my hand and tosses it aside and then straddles me. My cock is pushing to get out.

  “How about we do us?” she says. “We go at our speed. Let’s start with us making out on this couch.” She leans forward, and her tongue slips into my mouth. My hands want to move from her hips and cup her tits. She lets go of my mouth. “And if we end up naked, then we end up naked. If we end up with my shirt on the floor, then that is okay, too.”

  “Why are you asking? This is so hard,” I groan as her hips rotate on my lap.

  “Oh, baby,” she says. “I’m not the hard one.” She laughs, and I snap, turning her on her back. It’s me who rotates my hips now, making her shift her hips up. “Yes,” she hisses out, then looks at me. “I would be okay with your shirt coming off,” she says, and her hands are already under my shirt.

  “Okay, but that’s it,” I tell her, and for the rest of the day, we make out on her couch with my shirt off. When I leave her right before dinner, both of us are wired. “Are you going to miss me?” I ask her when she walks me to the door.

  “Honestly,” she says. “I’m going to go into the tub and bring a friend with me.”

  My mouth opens in shock. “Are you going to think about me when you play with yourself?” I kiss her when she nods. “I approve of this.”

  I walk out of the house without looking back, my whole body one tense nerve. I call her as soon as I get into the car. “What?” she answers, and I laugh.

  “I want to listen,” I tell her, and she laughs. We discuss the game tomorrow night, and when I get home, she still hasn’t stepped into the bathtub. Hanging up the phone, I walk into the house, and I’m going to the fridge when I get a ping. I see that she sent me a picture. I open it up, seeing her kneecap and what looks like bubbles around her.

  I call her on FaceTime right away. “Are you in the bath?” I ask her when she answers, and I hear the water around her. She comes into view with her hair tied up.

  “I am.” She looks at the camera mischievously. “And I’m not alone.”

  “No,” I say to her. “Changed my mind. You can’t play with yourself.”

  “What?” she shrieks out. “That’s not fair. You left me all pent-up and needing release.”

  “How is this,” I tell her. “Tomorrow, after the game, you come home with me, and we can go to second base?”

  She shakes her head. “How about I do this, and we still go to second base?”

  “Just think how good it’ll be,” I tell her, and she rolls her eyes.

  “Then you can’t drain your snake either,” she says, and I laugh. “What’s good for the gander is good for the geese.”

  “I don’t think that’s the way that goes,” I tell her, and my cock is screaming at me not to agree to her requests.

  “So we both wait until tomorrow then?” she asks, and I nod my head. “I want five,” she says, huffing out. “You have to make me come five times.”

  “I think I can do that,” I say, and she hangs up the phone with me.

  I slip into bed without touching my cock, and the next day, I arrive at the arena grouchy. All day, she’s sent me messages about places that are itching, and all of them are below her waist.

  I walk into the locker room and send her the last text, telling her where to meet me after the game. She got a lift in with Candace. I nod to the boys when I get in and grab my workout stuff, hoping an hour on the bike will help, but it doesn’t.

  I walk to the ice, carrying my gloves under my arms, and finally put them on before I take the ice. I hear some of the fans cheer and then stop by the glass, not even noticing her. She knocks on the glass, and I smile at her. Taking her in, I see her cheeks are a bit pink.

  I wink at her and then look at the side to see Candace smiling at me as she holds Ari in her arms. She turns, and I see that the Dallas jersey she is wearing has my number on it. I laugh now as she turns around. “Thought you might like this.”

  “You know what that means,” I tell her, almost screaming, not even caring that people are around and that reporters might see or hear this. “That means you’re my girlfriend.”

  Chapter 23

  Layla

  “You know what that means!” he screams through the glass, with not a care in the world. “That means you’re my girlfriend.” I throw my head back and laugh while he presses his lips to the glass.

  “Eww,” Candace says from beside me. I look over and see her nose scrunching up, making me laugh even more. “That’s gross.” I look back at the glass. His lips are still on the glass while Manning pushes him away. “Ari, tell Auntie Layla that’s gross,” she says to her daughter, who scrunches up her nose like her mother.

  “Dad!” I hear being yelled and look over at Manning’s son, who wears his jersey. He slaps the glass, and I see some of the other guys try to throw a puck over the glass for him. I smile and

  look back to see if his wife is around. I don’t know why I’m shocked that she isn’t here. He’s a seven-year-old kid, so anything can happen to him.

  Manning smiles at his son and puts his glove against the glass as his son puts his hand on his. “Score a goal for me tonight.” He jumps up and down, and Manning just laughs.

  “Where is the mother?” I lean and whisper to Candace, who looks around. I help her look around also, and I don’t see her anywhere.

  “Probably somewhere pretending to be the perfect captain’s wife,” she says and then looks at Manning, who just smiles at his son. “So”—she points her finger at me—“does this mean you are officially Miller Adams’s girlfriend?” Her finger moves up and down, pointing at the jersey, and I roll my eyes, trying not to let her see the happiness in my eyes.

  “Do people in their thirties still need labels on things?” I turn to her as we watch the practice. “We are two adults who want to spend time with each other.” Slowly, the players skate off the ice, and I see Manning look ov
er at his son, who is watching the other team. He looks up at Candace and me. She nods her head when he points at his son, and then I see him bend his head and shake it.

  Candace walks down to his son, tells him something that makes him smile, and he grabs her hand as we walk back to the family lounge. I usually stay in the press box, but when Candace is here, I stay with her. We walk into the room, and we both look around for the mother, who is standing there with a glass of wine in her hand as she talks to a couple of the other wives. “There is your mom,” Candace says. He walks up to her, and she smiles at him and bends to kiss his head. The massive rock on her hand glistens as she rubs his shoulder.

  “Okay, I’m not a mother or anything like that,” I say, my voice low. “But that was fake, right?”

  “That was totally fake,” she says and kisses Ari on the head, who puts her arms around her neck and hugs her.

  “Can your daughter be cuter?” I ask, rubbing Ari’s back.

  “Nope,” she says. “Let’s go sit down and get our seats.” I walk with her outside the box to sit in two seats. Ari sits on her lap and claps, saying da-da. “So you and Miller?”

  “Okay, fine,” I say. “Get it out now.”

  She laughs. “It was a ticking time bomb just festering until I knew it would explode one day,” I gasp, and she shakes her head. “Oh, I always knew once you got to know him, you would cave.”

  “I did not cave,” I tell her and lean back in the chair, turning to her and folding my arms over my chest. “Okay, fine,” I huff out. “I might have caved a little bit.” I hold out my thumb and forefinger. “He cooked dinner for me.” I’m trying to come up with reasons as to why I caved, trying to convince her of the reasons. “From scratch as if he cooked it all.” I don’t add in that no one has ever done that for me. I don’t tell her how it threw me off the path of hatred that I had for him. Okay, maybe not hatred, but I definitely didn’t like him.

  “Well, I don’t know how it happened, but I’m happy for you,” she says. “You look happy.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” I ask, and she just shrugs. I’ve always smiled when needed, and I’m always in a good mood.

  “I don’t know how to explain it. You are the same as before, but now there is just something about you that, I don’t know, lights up. It’s that glow,” she gasps. “Did you have sex with him already?”

  “Fuck, I wish,” I tell her. “I basically handed myself to him on a silver platter, and he said no.” She goes wide-eyed. “Well, he didn’t because Google told him it wasn’t a good idea.” She laughs now, and I get angry, thinking about it. “That fucking bitch Google.” I explain to her how he goes to Google for everything. “Anyway,” I tell her, “he owes me five orgasms tonight, so he better save some of his energy because I’m ready to collect.”

  The guys skate onto the ice, and the game is intense. Boston is out for blood, literally. One of the rookies has to leave the ice after getting body checked at center ice. His head was down. It’s Rookie Mistake 101: always skate with your head high. Manning was the first one to skate over and fight the attacker. His gloves were off even before he got to the scene, and by the time the referees got it under control, there were four other fights.

  It isn’t the first time I’ve seen fights on the ice, but then when I saw Miller skate up and toss his stick to the ice, my heart sped up, and my mouth suddenly got dry. He holds another guy, who then knocks his arm away, and I see the smirk come out. I can read his lips. Well, almost. The only words I can actually see are Pussy. Ass. Dick. Suck. Fuck You. Fight Me. Little bitch is the last thing that he says before the guy swings at him. I grip the armrests of the seat, seeing that he’s ducked and swings up with a punch, the guy going down. The referee is there to stop Miller from doing anything else. He points at the box, and Miller shakes his head and skates to the box, pulling up his sleeves. The crowd behind him is banging on the glass as he sits there next to Manning.

  The game ends with us sealing the deal with an empty-net goal in the third period with ten seconds to go. I help Candace walk down to her truck and then text Miller that I am waiting for him at his car. I take my phone out and scroll through the pictures of tonight’s game. I hear footsteps coming closer and look up to see Miller coming out, holding his suit jacket in his hand.

  His crisp white dress shirt fits him too perfectly. The top two buttons are undone, his custom-made blue pants hug his thick thighs, and I swear my mouth waters when he looks up. His hair is still wet, and you can see that he brushed his hands through it. His scruff on his face makes my hands tingle, just thinking of feeling it.

  “Well, look who it is,” I say, pushing off the car. “If it isn’t Rocky Balboa.” He shakes his head and walks to me. Wrapping his free hand around my waist, he kisses my lips. It feels like we’ve done this a thousand times before, which is weird since I know that we haven’t.

  “Hi,” I say softly to him. With my hands on his chest, I lean into him a bit more, so I smell his aftershave all over me.

  “Hi,” he says back softly. “Gotta say, I like you waiting for me.” He rubs his nose against mine as he kisses me again lightly. “You hungry?” he asks, stepping away from me.

  “A little bit,” I say, and he opens the car door for me. “I mean, I’m more horny than hungry.” He laughs now.

  “You and me both,” he says, closing the door behind me and walking over to get into the car. He tosses his jacket in the back seat, and we take off for his house. “Did you enjoy the game?” he asks.

  “I mean, it’s different now that you know I’m a girlfriend,” I say, and when he looks over at me smirking, I wink at him.

  “When I saw you wearing my jersey, I got a hard-on, and let me tell you. A hard-on and a jockstrap do not go well together,” he says, and I laugh. The car ride home is quiet as the two of us remain in our own world. I’m not going to admit this to him, but I’m nervous. It’s silly and crazy, and I can’t even begin to explain it to myself, let alone him.

  When we pull up to his house, my hand comes out to grab the door handle to open it. “I hope you saved your energy, Adams.” He looks over at me. “You owe me five orgasms, and I bumped it up to seven for fighting.” I get out of the car and wait for him to meet me. He charges to me and pushes me against the car door. “Miller,” I say almost breathlessly.

  “All night,” he says. “I was holding on by a string.” His mouth devours mine, his hands come up to cup my tits, and I let go of his mouth to moan. “All I could see was you in my jersey.” He lifts the hem of the jersey, and right here in the middle of his driveway in the dark, he slips his hand into my jeans. I try to open my legs, but the restriction of the jeans doesn’t let me.

  “Wet,” he says when his hand rubs up and down my covered slit. “Right, though.” His mouth finds mine again as he rubs up and down. I’m aching to get him to touch me skin to skin, aching to feel his fingers in me. “All I could see,” he says again when he lets go of my mouth, “is fucking your mouth with my cock while you wore this jersey.” I close my eyes, picturing the same thing he is picturing, and I come, just like that. My legs squeeze together, and I shake. A moan escapes me, and he rubs up and down, and when I finally open my eyes, I see the smirk on his face. “Six more to go.” I take his hand out of my jeans and stick his finger in his mouth. “Shall we?” he says, and I finally realize that right here in the middle of his fucking driveway with only his fingers in my pants, not even in my vagina that I came for him.

  “Um,” I start to say to him as he pulls me to the front door. “I—”

  He unlocks the door and steps in with me following him. I’m about to say something else, but I can’t because I’m pushed up against the door. “Do you know what I did last night?” he asks as he devours my neck, and I can’t even see in the darkness. I see a little bit of light coming from somewhere in the house, but I can’t focus on anything else but him. He’s all around me, yet I can’t get enough of him.

  “What?” I ask al
most in a daze.

  “I fell asleep with the thought of you sitting on my face,” he tells me, and my head falls back against the door. “Time to find out if you taste like strawberries.”

  Chapter 24

  Miller

  My heart hammers in my chest, my cock is harder than a rock, and all I can think about is getting her naked and pleasing her. I attack her neck, sucking in and tasting her. She moans softly, and all the plans that I had are out the window. Taking my time with her and savoring her are out the window. Making her come on my tongue is the new plan. My hands roam from her neck to her tits, and I wish I could feel them better, but with the fucking jersey on, I can’t tease her nipples the way I want to. “I want to rip the jersey off you,” I tell her right before my tongue slips into her mouth for a bit. My hand goes to her hips and then her ass.

  “Take it off,” she says breathlessly when I let go of her mouth. “Let’s take it all off.” Her hands go to the hem, and she tries to take off the jersey. I grab her hand in mine and then take the other in mine and raise them to the side of her head. “Miller,” she groans, and her fingers fling to mine.

  My mouth goes to her ear. “Don’t move your hands,” I tell her, slipping my fingers out of her. “The minute you move your hand is the minute I stop.” I wish there was more light shining through, so I can see her eyes, I wish I could see her eyes when she comes. I drop down to my knees, coming face-to-face with her pussy. My finger comes out, and I move over the zipper of her jeans right where I know her clit is. “All night,” I tell her, slipping the button out. “I was hard.” The sound of the zipper opens, filling the room, both of us not breathing. “Thinking of this.” I kiss her right above her lace panties. “Thinking of how you taste,” I say, pushing down her jeans over her hips. Leaning in and licking her right over her lace thong.