by Odette Stone
Feeling like a coward, I backed away from her door.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. Charlie and I had silently eaten dinner together before she had again retreated to her room. I felt edgy and restless and horny as hell. I took off my shirt, and I sat on the edge of the bed and debated my options. I rarely liked to jerk off. I preferred to save my sexual energy for my partner, but for the first time in as long as I could remember, I found myself without a partner, without access to bunnies and without sex. I would have to get used to taking care of business myself.
With reluctance, I lay back on the bed and pulled my hard cock out. I shut my eyes and envisioned a faceless woman, riding me reverse cowgirl. Her long, black hair hung down her narrow back.
I started to stroke myself.
“Oh yeah, baby, give it to me,” she gasped.
My hand began to move faster.
The image faded and then Charlie’s face swam before my eyes. She was on her knees, looking up at me. Those lips were wrapped tight around my hard cock as she sucked me off. Her eyes looked at me with lust as I pumped into her mouth. I twisted my hands into her long, strawberry-blonde hair, helping her with her motions by tangling my fingers in her curly hair, guiding her head as she sucked on my cock.
Breathing hard, I paused my movements.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I tried to clear my head of Charlie. Think of anyone but her. I reset my mental vision.
I slowly started to stroke my cock again. I lifted my head, looking down at my right hand, noticing the wedding ring on my finger. It looked strange on my hand. The fact that I was jerking off alone on my wedding night was more than depressing; it was a fucking mood killer. Mentally, I was ready to give up, but my body hummed with frustration.
I dropped my head back on the bed. I shut my eyes, willing myself to relax. I started to stroke myself again. Charlie appeared in my mind. This time she wore that little white, lacy number. I watched her back up until she was lying back in her bed. Those brown eyes watched my face as she slowly undid one of those pink ribbons on her shoulder.
That’s it. Take it off.
She undid the other ribbon and then smiled at me, beckoning me. I stood there, staring at her, and she slowly spread her legs open to me. Between her legs, there was a scrap of lace that barely covered her. I mentally willed her to show me more. She reached a hand down between her legs and pulled the fabric aside, showing me her pink, glistening pussy.
I groaned hard as I spurted hot streams of cum over my hand and abs. Shocked that I had come as fast as a fourteen-year-old, I grabbed a T-shirt and wiped myself off. I lay back on the bed as guilt washed over me for jerking off to dirty thoughts of Charlie.
She’s my wife.
Doesn’t matter.
I thought a physical release would make me feel better, but it didn’t. I still felt hot and horny as hell. I stood up and walked onto the huge deck into the cool air to stare, unseeing, at the view. I had fantasized about many women in my life, but now I fantasized about the woman I had married, and I felt like a total asshole.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. I didn’t know my wife. And from what I knew of her, we didn’t seem compatible. I was pretty sure she didn’t like me. But I knew one thing for sure.
I wanted to fuck her.
Chapter 11
CHARLIE
Mica drove me to work on the way to his morning practice. I needed to figure out my car situation, but I didn’t have the money to have a locksmith re-key my car for me. I would need to deal with that sooner than later, but until I got paid, I needed to live without my car. I planned on asking Krista for a small advance today so I could at least afford to take the bus to work so Mica didn’t have to drive me around.
He pulled up in front of my office building and parked his car.
“Thanks for the ride. I can take the bus going forward.”
“What are you going to do with your car?”
“Eventually get a key made for it.”
He frowned as the truth dawned on him. “You don’t have any money.”
“I have money, I just don’t have access to it until I get to the bank and get a new debit card.”
He shifted to pull out his wallet and passed me a wad of cash. “Here.”
“No, that’s okay.”
He grabbed my hand, put the money on my palm, and squeezed my fingers around it. “You need money to get a cab to the game.”
“I was going to ask for an advance from Krista.”
His expression darkened. “I’m your husband. You don’t need to ask for money from anyone.”
I’m your husband. That sounded more than weird.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, hating how uneven we felt.
He looked out the windshield. “We didn’t really talk about tonight.”
“Krista said she’d come to the game with me.”
“They are planning something for us after.”
I looked at my hands. I was dreading tonight. “I know.”
He glanced at me. “Krista said we feel like strangers.”
We are strangers. “We don’t know each other.”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Things are going to happen, and I need you to just go with it.”
Could the guy get any more cryptic? “What do you mean?”
He couldn’t meet my eye. “Just… don’t fight me. Can you trust me on that?”
Did I have a choice? “Uh, okay.”
Satisfied, he looked back at me. “Thanks. For doing this for me.”
The guy had saved me after my place burned down, bought me thousands of dollars of clothes, housed and fed me and now was pushing money into my hands. I wasn’t sure he should be the one thanking me. “We are helping each other.”
We didn’t seem to have anything else to say, so I gathered my bags. “Thanks for the ride. Have fun playing tonight.”
My breath caught in my throat as I witnessed, for the first time in days, a smile spread across his face, making him one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen.
“Thanks, I will.”
“Stop fidgeting,” Krista instructed.
I couldn’t help it. The game was about to start and for some reason, I was incredibly nervous. The last time I had attended a game had been over two years ago, and I remembered nothing about it. Now I was attending the game as Mica’s wife, and I felt the pressure of the upcoming party afterward.
“I can’t help it.” I looked down at the black dress pants, high heels, and gorgeous blouse that I wore to work. “How is my outfit?”
She eyed my clothes. “Mica has exceptional taste. You picked the perfect outfit for the party tonight.”
At least I got that right.
She leaned in. “How does it feel to be married?”
I threw her a dark look. “It’s nothing. This is just a platonic roommate situation, remember?”
The lights went out, and the crowd started to scream and cheer. Throbbing music deafened the stadium.
“What number is Mica?” I yelled in Krista’s ear.
She shook her head in amazement. “You’re the worst hockey wife in the world.”
“You know I hate hockey.”
“He’s number 28.”
Through a haze of smoke, the Wolves players streamed onto the ice, circling their half of the rink like Titans about to prepare for battle.
Without seeing his number, and even with their helmets and dark lights, I instantly picked Mica out. In real life, the guy was huge. On the ice, with all his equipment on, he looked like a warrior.
My breath caught in my throat as I watched him skate hard around the back of the net. He picked up a puck with the end of the stick and flipped his stick repeatedly, keeping the puck in the air before dropping it and taking a hard shot at the net. Mica off the ice was beyond attractive. Seeing him on the ice, with thousands of fans screaming for him and his team, made him seem transcendent.
Krista leaned toward
s me. “How do you feel about your platonic roommate now?”
I couldn’t even speak. For the first time in my life, I finally understood the female hockey fan. It wasn’t about the game or winning; it was all about the raw, unparalleled masculinity of these players.
“Puck bunnies are smarter than I thought.”
She laughed and put her arm around my shoulder. “And you married one of those immortals.”
I felt dazed. And that feeling didn’t fade.
How had I thought I hated hockey? There was a savageness to the game. Players with world-class skills skated hard to beat each other, plowing one another into the boards with a force that shook the Plexiglas. I could sense the camaraderie and exclusiveness of the team, and it was impossible not to want to be part of that. I started to clue in that this was why there were so many fans. Everyone wanted to feel part of the team that skated together on the ice.
In the midst of all that was Mica. The way he played reminded me of that fateful night behind the bar when he had come to my defense. On skates, he took on a different persona. He was fierce and intense, never letting up once during the game. I watched, my hands at my mouth, as he went toe to toe with another player, giving him a piece of his mind while backing the player up against the boards.
“What’s going on?” I asked Krista, my eyes glued to the scene unfolding.
“The other player got too close to our goalie.”
The surrounding crowd roared when Mica shoved the guy hard, nearly taking him off his skates. Two refs, who looked tiny in comparison, bravely waded in to pull Mica away.
“Is he in trouble?”
“Nope.”
The refs flanked Mica and skated him back towards the bench. I watched as he looked over his shoulder and yelled something at the guy. I couldn’t hear his words, but judging by the movement of his lips, he was using more than a few four-letter words.
I clutched Krista’s hand. “I married that.”
She laughed long and hard. “You’re just getting that now?”
My stomach was a mass of butterflies. I mentally made a note to never come out of my bedroom again. Until now, I had no idea what I was getting into. Now that I did, my best plan of attack was to retreat and hide. “Why did you let me do something so stupid?”
She squeezed my hand. “Because this is where he belongs. And you helped him get back here.”
This was true, but that didn’t help the fact that I was in way over my head where he was concerned.
During the intermission, I looked over at Krista. “I’m scared about the party.”
She grimaced. “You should be. Yesterday, you were acting like two polite strangers. You need to feign some emotion.”
I tried to imagine how to do that. I skirted away from him. I had trouble making eye contact, much less speaking to him. “Any tips?”
“Yes. Lots, but let’s start with a few basic ones. You have three feet of personal space that you don’t want anyone to penetrate. Close the gap. Stand closer to him.”
“Close the gap.”
“When it doubt, just smile a lot and lean towards him. If he’s talking, don’t look elsewhere. Everything he does, pretend it fascinates you. Try to look like you adore him.”
The guy did fascinate me. I wouldn’t have to pretend.
“Smile and lean,” I repeated.
“If you have your eyes on him like you did during this game, no one will question how you’re feeling.”
“If I fuck up, will you come and save me?”
She shook her head. “Nope. This is the Mica and Charlie show. It’s totally up to the two of you now.”
Krista wisely didn’t let me near the family green room. She told me that all eyes would be on me and instead she texted Mica to meet us privately. She flashed her badge to the security guard and then led me down a long cement hallway.
My heart started to beat erratically when he came walking towards us. He was wearing a dark suit, and his hair was still damp from his shower.
“Where is the party?” Krista didn’t let either of us get a word in edgewise.
“They booked the entire bar at the Marchione Hotel.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s impressive.”
He glanced at me. “Ready to go?”
No. I wasn’t ready. Not even close. “Sure.”
“See you there?” he asked Krista.
“Oh darling, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
I glanced back at her.
“Close the gap,” she mocked as I walked away.
Mica led me out to the private staff parking lot. “How did you like the game?”
“I don’t remember hockey being like that.”
He grinned as he tossed his bag in the back. “What does that mean?”
I waited until we were both seated in his Porsche. “It just seemed intense.”
“Wait until the playoffs. That’s when it gets intense.”
I couldn’t imagine a game getting more intense than the one I had just witnessed.
We drove in silence for a while before he asked, “What does close the gap mean?”
I blushed. “I was getting tips on how to manage this party. Krista advised I stand closer to you.”
He didn’t speak.
I tried to explain. “She said I have a big personal space.”
“You’re prickly.”
“I am not!”
He threw a mild glance at me. “You’re showing your prickles right now.”
“I’m just warning you I might edge closer than you are used to, and I’m supposed to look at you with adoration.”
“Just don’t fight me, and we’ll be fine.”
We pulled up in front of the hotel.
“What does that mean?” I felt panic as we pulled up to the valet. “Why would I fight you? You said that same thing this morning.”
He didn’t answer because someone opened my door for me. He came around the car and together we walked towards the hotel. Even with my high heels, I barely came up to his shoulder.
As we walked through the door, he put a big hand on the small of my back, causing alarming sparks to zip up my spine. Then, as we walked across the lobby, he put his arm around my shoulder, tugging me close to him.
I went stiff as a board. He leaned down, and his hot breath blew against my ear. “Don’t fight me. Try to relax.”
I stopped walking. My hands were ice cold, and my nerves were strung so tight I thought they might snap. “I can’t relax. I’m so nervous.”
He stepped in so close, our bodies touched. He put his hand under my chin and lifted my face. “I’m going to be all over you tonight.”
“What?” I squeaked.
He looked apologetic. “I’m an affectionate guy when I date someone. Everyone in there knows that.”
“You’re going to be affectionate with me?” Saying that out loud didn’t make it any better.
“If you seem nervous, everyone will understand that. But try not to pull away from me. Just… go with it.”
Mica being physically affectionate in front of all those people was a terrifying prospect.
“Go with it,” I repeated.
“Yeah.” He reached up and brushed a strand of hair off my forehead. “Just go with it.”
We walked into the bar hand in hand. When a hundred pairs of eyes turned to look at us, closing the gap was no longer an issue.
The thought of Mica showing PDA in front of his friends? Terrifying.
The thought of facing all his friends without Mica by my side? A thousand times more terrifying. My other hand wrapped around his big forearm, and I leaned against him as we faced the cheers and the clapping as a couple.
The first ten minutes of the party were a nightmare. Complete strangers overwhelmed me with their hugs and excited congratulations. Each time I got hugged, I got separated from Mica. And each time we got pulled apart, he found my hand and yanked me towards him, so I could once again glue myself to his side.
Someone placed a drink in my hand, and I did what Krista told me to do. I closed the gap so hard, there was always part of us touching. He either held my hand, had his arm around my shoulder, or I wrapped my hands around his big forearm and leaned against him.
I met players, their wives, trainers and a constant stream of friends. Most of the people had a long-standing friendship with Mica. So when they came over to talk to us, they greeted me, congratulated me and then talked mainly to Mica. So I did what Krista told me to do. I plastered a smile on my face and stared up at him like he was a lifeline and I was the raft.
He talked, laughed, and frequently looked down at me until I blushed.
Those brief moments felt like a private reprieve from the surrounding chaos. When he held my gaze before dropping his eyes to my mouth, it felt like the entire bar faded away. My eyes clung to his face, allowing myself to drink in the essence of him.
Two long years of avoiding him, ducking eye contact and pretending I didn’t notice him, and now, I had full license to study him. I took in his sharp angular cheekbones and his straight nose. I stared into his blue eyes that were decorated with thick black lashes. And that mouth. I could not get enough of looking at his mouth. I drank in all of him until I was drunk on his beauty.
A clanging echoed through the bar, and everyone fell silent.
“Mica and Charlie,” Mark Ashford said from the front. “Will you do me the honor of joining me up front?”
Mica took my hand and led me up to the front to stand beside Mark.
Mark Ashford began his speech. “I’ve known Mica since the day he got off the plane from Russia. I’d like to say he was just a kid, but even at 19, he was built like an ox and had one of the fiercest competitive natures I’ve seen in a hockey player.”
The crowd laughed.
“He’s been an integral part of our hockey family for seven years, and he’s been like a wild son to me. I’ve tried to tame him, but I had to concede that Mica is untamable.”