“You want me to fill that pretty little mouth up, don’t you?” I run my hand over her hair in a gentle caress.
“Yes.”
She plays with me some more first, though, licking and kissing my cock while stroking my balls. I have to fist the sheets to keep control.
“Abby…fuck.”
When she slides her mouth over the crown of my cock this time, she doesn’t stop. She takes me all the way, her wet, warm mouth working me into a fast frenzy. I’m getting close, my hips working up and down just slightly, in time with her mouth.
Then she shocks the shit out of me when she slides a single, wet finger into my ass. I come so hard, I roar as I fist her hair and unload in her mouth.
“Good?” she asks as she sits up, wiping a hand across her mouth.
I let out a single note of laughter. “Fucking amazing.” I lift an arm, encouraging her to come snuggle into my side. “You’ve got a gift, too.”
She kisses my shoulder, tracing her fingertip over the jagged scar there.
“What happened?”
“Freak accident on the ice. A bunch of us were fighting during practice and another guy’s skate blade got me.”
“Oh, ouch. When?”
“High school.”
I kiss the top of her head and she drapes one of her legs over mine.
“I know you said you can’t stay all night, but how long do I have you?” she asks.
“Late. I just can’t sleep here when we’re done.”
She leans up on an elbow and looks down at me. “I don’t want us to talk about personal stuff. I like this, and that would ruin it for me. But there is one thing…I need to know you aren’t married.”
Apparently she’s not sure I was telling the truth last time she asked me. But I get it. The fact that I can’t stay the night probably seems like a red flag. “No. Never even gotten close to married. That’s not why I can’t sleep here.”
Her expression relaxes into a smile. “Good.”
“And you’re not married either, right?”
I know she’s not, but I’m hoping to get a little more information out of her than last time.
“No.”
“Divorced?” I trail a fingertip down her spine, hoping in her relaxed state, she’ll share something.
“Widowed.”
“Oh, shit. Abby, I’m sorry.”
Her smile isn’t as carefree this time. “It’s okay, but this is why I don’t want to talk about personal stuff. It just creates feelings like pity that get in the way.”
“Got it. And I’m good with what we have going.”
“You seem pretty confident it’s happening again.”
I kiss her softly, choosing honesty over banter this time. “I’d call myself hopeful about it. I like you, Abby.”
“I like you, too.” She runs her fingertips down my chest, over my hip, to my inner thigh. “Are you ready for more yet?”
“Getting there.” I kiss her nipple and tease it with my tongue until it’s hard, then ease her onto her back and do the same to the other one. “Now let’s get you there.”
Chapter Eleven
Abby
It’s late. Or early. I know it’s not close to sunrise, but it’s later than the usual time I am finally able to fall asleep.
“You good?” Luca asks, kissing the back of my shoulder. He’s spooning me from behind, his warmth making it hard to keep my eyes open.
“Mmm.” I’m too tired and sated to make my mouth move to form words.
I just came for the fifth time, and it wasn’t a weak, phoning-it-in, add-on orgasm. Every time, Luca takes his time building me up, slowing, stopping and resuming until I come like a freight train by the time he lets me.
I’m really wishing I wouldn’t have run my mouth earlier about outlasting him. I don’t think it’s physically possible. He’s got unlimited stamina, and his dick gets hard at the drop of a hat.
“Are you even tired?” I ask in a groggy tone.
He hums his amusement and I feel the vibration through his lips against my skin. “I’ll sleep well tonight.”
“I wanted to keep…” My thought fades away as I start to fall asleep.
“It’s okay, babe. You were amazing.”
I try to say something, but I’m not sure if anything comes out. I’m so exhausted that I can’t fight the fatigue any longer.
“I’m gonna go after you fall asleep, okay?” he says.
“Mm-hm.”
“When can I see you again?”
My eyes pop open—I’m awake now. I turn around to face him, reconsidering my plan to only see him tonight. It’s so easy to be with Luca. He’s funny and sexy and sweet, and since he doesn’t know who I really am, I know he’s not after my money. I imagine he has plenty of his own, anyway.
When he asked my last name, my maiden name seemed like the safest answer. I don’t want Luca googling my actual name—Abby Daniels. It’s not so much about him knowing I own Cypress Lane, but about him uncovering my past.
I moved from Portland to New York City three years ago in pursuit of anonymity. Reinventing myself there is how I survived.
If Luca knew the truth, he’d look at me differently. I’d rather be seen as a brash workaholic than what I truly am. No man wants to have long nights of dirty sex with a woman he pities.
“If we see each other again,” I start softly, “I can’t promise anything regular. I think I’ll be here quite a bit for the next few months, but after that, not so much.”
Luca runs his palm from my hip down to my thigh, then around to gently cup my ass. “Same here. I have a busy schedule, too.”
“When does your season end?”
“Hopefully in June. The regular season ends next month, though.” He smiles slightly. “But it’s not just hockey that keeps me busy.”
“Okay.” I smile back, feeling encouraged. “So no promises. If we can work out a night for filthy sex every once in a while, we do, and if not, we’re still good.”
“Perfect.”
I run my fingers down the lines of muscle on his upper arm. “And also, can we keep this impersonal? Like a one-night stand that just lasts more than one night?”
He quirks a brow at me. “You afraid I’ll fall in love with you, Abby Barrett?”
“Hardly.” I laugh off his question. “I’m set in my ways and I work too much. And I don’t want to change. I’m also a very private person—one who is not looking for a relationship.”
“Neither am I.”
“Okay...then good.”
He kisses me and gets out of bed, the warmth I was enjoying leaving with him. I’m punch-drunk on exhaustion and satisfaction as I watch him dress in the near darkness.
“Hey, you know that thing you did with your fingers?” I say, pulling the covers back up over me.
Luca turns to face me and I can see the outline of definition on his broad chest. God, he’s got an amazing body. “Which thing, babe? My fingers were busy tonight.”
“Mmm, yes they were.” I smile broadly. “I was talking about that thing right before I was about to come, where you…you know, did a thing.”
Luca puts a knee on the bed and leans down so we’re face to face. “Christ, am I the only guy who’s ever found your g-spot?”
“Uh…maybe? Is that what that was?”
His grin is amused. “Yeah, that’s what that was.”
“If you could do that again…that might be good.”
“I can, and it will.” He kisses me one more time. “I’m sorry I’ve got to go.”
I sigh softly. “My alarm is set for five, I should probably just get up and go work out.”
Luca furrows his brow in disapproval. “It’s not even three yet, Abby. Turn that fucking alarm off and get some sleep.”
“I have to work out.” I sit up and shake my head, hoping to clear away the grogginess.
“Hey,” Luca says softly. “You got in a good workout already. Get some sleep.”
“Sleep i
s overrated.” I get out of bed and start looking for my clothes.
“Get back in bed. You don’t want to feel like a zombie all day at work.”
I’m used to feeling that way, but I don’t tell him that. But when he walks over and takes my panties from my hand, tossing them back to the floor, I don’t object.
“Get some sleep, okay? I’m going to when I get home.”
I sigh heavily. Maybe he’s right. I’m so tired.
“Okay,” I agree.
“I’ll lock up.”
As soon as I lie back down, my eyes drift closed.
“Hey, catch my game tomorrow night on TV if you want to see me win an epic bet.”
I lift my head from the pillow. “A bet.”
Luca chuckles. “Yeah, me and the other two guys on my offensive line made a bet about who’d score the most goals over ten consecutive games. Unless my buddy Victor scores three goals tomorrow night, which is really fucking unlikely, he’s gonna lose.”
I smile as my head drops back down to the pillow. “How much money will you win?”
“We’re getting something better than money. My other buddy Anton and I get to pick a tattoo out and Vic has to get it. He only gets to decide where it goes.”
Luca sounds so thrilled with the prospect that I can’t help laughing. “I’ll definitely try to watch history being made, then.”
“I had a great time tonight,” Luca says from the doorway. “Goodnight, Abby.”
“Me too. Goodnight.”
I hear the door open and close, and then I fumble in the darkness for my phone on the nightstand. Luca’s right—I need some sleep. There’s a minimum amount required to stay awake and think clearly in meetings, and I haven’t been getting it.
I switch off my alarm and give in to the pull of sleep. Missing one workout won’t kill me.
The rhythmic beep, beep, beep of a machine makes my stomach turn with dread. I’m running down a sterile, white hospital corridor, nowhere near a machine, but I hear it anyway. It’s always there.
I throw open a closed door, and see an empty bed. Running to the next door, I open it and see an elderly woman lying perfectly still.
A feeling of dead panic hits. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. The beeping gets fainter and my heart seizes with panic.
I have to get there. I have to.
If only I could ask for help, but there’s no one around. I’m like a ghost—invisible and helpless.
All I can do is open doors in search of the right one. My heart is in one of those rooms, and I have to find it in time. I have to say goodbye.
But each door opens to either an empty room or a stranger. I’m searching each room I come across, getting more and more agitated, as I look up and see an endless hallway of plain white doors that extends as far as the eye can see.
I reach for the next silver handle, try to turn it, and find it locked. Stunned, I step back for a second. What if this is the right room?
I try the handle again, shaking it, but it won’t budge. I scream in silence and then kick the door. I can’t move on, because this could be the room.
I have to get in there. The beep, beep, beep of the machine is getting louder and faster, like a ticking time bomb reminding me how urgent this is.
Please. Please help me.
I pound on the door with both hands, desperate to get in. Nothing helps, though. When I back up a few steps to throw my weight against the door in hopes of breaking it down, I look down the never-ending corridor and see a bright orange wave approaching.
Fire. It’s going to engulf me. I don’t care about that, though. I only care about getting into that room.
Beep, beep, beep.
The flames approach silently. The door won’t open. I’m going to fail again.
I sit up in bed, woken by my own scream. I’m sweating and my heart beats uncontrollably.
I take a deep breath. I know this horrible, recurring nightmare well. It’s why I don’t sleep much. There’s no calming myself down. Instead, I bury my face in my hands and cry.
I sob over the unfairness of it all. Over why I’m still here. Over why the hurt never seems to heal.
And then, after I’ve cried all the tears I have, I get up and go into the bathroom to shower. When I flip on the light and look at my reflection in the mirror, there’s snot on my face and my eyes are swollen.
Been here, done this. Many times. Mechanically, I turn the shower handle and step in, letting the hot water run over my hair and down my back.
And then I cry some more.
This is what I get for sleeping. I’ll be more careful next time.
Chapter Twelve
Luca
Two months later
The laughter of a Minion sounds on my phone, and my agent Denny gives me an amused look.
“Cora,” I explain. “She set different tone alerts for each of the kids when they text me.”
I look down at my screen and see a picture from Jack. It’s his end-of-the-year report card—three As and four Bs. My eyes get a little watery.
The kid’s been busting his ass studying every night for these grades. Math doesn’t come easy to him.
“Excuse me,” I say to Denny.
I type out a message to my nephew.
Me: KICKASS!!!! I’m really proud of you, bud!
Jack: Thanks I got a B- in math!
Me: You did great! We’ll celebrate when I get back home.
Jack: When are you coming home?
Me: I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.
Jack: I miss you.
Me: I miss you too. I miss all of you guys. Are you having fun with Sheila?
Jack: She is taking us out for pizza tonight!
Me: Sweet. Hey, I have to go, I’m in a meeting.
Jack: Can you Facetime later?
Me: Yep, gimme an hour and we can.
Jack: Ok!
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I turn my attention back to Denny.
“Sorry, had to catch up with Jack.”
“Hey, no worries. How’s it going with the kids?”
I shrug. “Pretty good, I think. The nice thing about not knowing what the hell I’m doing is not knowing if I’m screwing it up.”
“We’ve got a couple standing offers from magazines and sports blogs to do a profile and photo spread about you and the kids. It’d be great exposure.”
“No way, I want the kids to stay out of the spotlight.”
“Okay, then let’s talk about these offers.” Denny looks down at the legal pad in front of him on his desk.
The hockey season is now officially over, and we’re having our annual post-season sit down at Denny’s office to discuss where I am in my contract and to go over endorsement deals.
Other than the times the Blaze are playing the Chargers, visits to Denny’s office are the only time I come to New York City. And the best thing about this trip is that I’ll get to see Abby tonight.
We’ve only gotten one more evening together since deciding to make this a regular thing, and that was almost a month ago. All I’ve had since then are the sporadic sexy or random texts we exchange.
And damn, is Abby good at sexting. I’ve turned down two offers from women for sex since I last saw Abby because they just didn’t compare to her. Her confidence and intensity, with the hint of vulnerability she occasionally lets me see, have me hooked.
“Sexual performance enhancer?” Denny looks up from his legal pad at me.
I turn my train of thought back to the meeting. “Sorry, what?”
“You’ve got an endorsement offer from the maker of a male performance enhancer.”
I scowl. “Fuck that. I don’t want people thinking I use that shit.”
“Just checking, it’s a good offer.”
“Next.”
“There’s a company rolling out a new line of home boxing equipment that wants you to be a spokesman.”
That doesn’t sound too bad. “Maybe. I’d be willing to try out
their stuff and see if I like it first. You know I don’t rep anything I don’t actually use.”
Denny writes down a few notes on his pad and continues down the list. “Luxury car ad?”
“Do I get a car if I do it?”
“Never hurts to ask.”
“I’d consider it.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket with a text notification and I pull it out to view the message.
Abby: Sorry, my meeting ran late. How about 7 at the Waldorf bar?
Denny notices me reading the message and says, “I’ll grab us some coffee.”
I write back.
Me: Not having me over to your place?
Abby: You’ll like the Waldorf better…
Me: As long as you’re there, I don’t care where we go.
Abby: My next meeting is there. I’ll order you a Guinness if I get there first.
Me: What color are your panties? So I can fantasize this afternoon.
Abby: What panties…?
Me: Oh hell. Can you do lunch instead of dinner???
Abby: Ha, I wish…see you tonight. Xoxo
Me: See you then, gorgeous.
Denny walks back into the room and passes me a cup of coffee.
“Thanks, man. Sorry about that. Had to finalize plans for later.”
“Got a date?”
“Yeah, sorta.”
My agent grins. “I’m not saying you need a performance enhancer, but would it really be so bad to get a free lifetime supply?”
“It’s a hard pass, bro.”
“Ba dum bum.”
“How much more do we have to work on? I’m fucking starving.”
“I’ll order in some lunch. You’ve got an interview in an hour, remember?”
I nod. “I had kind of forgotten about that, but okay. Lunch would be good. Maybe pasta, I need some carbs.”
“Need the energy for your date?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t suggest that dick hardening shit again.”
He puts up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not. Just an old married guy, with three young kids, living vicariously through you.”
I laugh. “Not getting much sleep?”
Luca: A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance Page 7