We start with laps on the indoor track and move to weights. Alex is still recovering from his accident last season, so he’s on low weight and high reps for his shoulder. He gets frustrated pretty easily with how slow his progress is, but I don’t let him push himself beyond what’s reasonable. We’ve been friends long enough that he doesn’t get too pissed when I tell him to take it easy.
It’s harder for him to stay within his limits when we’re working out with the team, so he and I go at least three times a week on our own—and that’s on top of his physical therapy sessions.
After weights, we hit the pool and then the hot tub, followed by the sauna. No one’s in there but us, so we sit down and relax, letting the heat do its job.
“I can’t wait to check out the tattoo designs.” Alex runs his palm over the most recent addition to his body art—he had The Cup tattooed on the inside of his right bicep after we won it. He doesn’t have a ton of ink, but he keeps adding to it, so I’m assuming at some point he might end up making it a half sleeve if nothing else.
If there’s one thing I know about addictions, it’s that once you get a taste of something you like, it’s hard not to keep going back for more. I don’t think it’s any different with body art. Ballistic is about to start another full sleeve, and Romero has a massive back piece. Miller and I are the only ones who haven’t bitten the ink bullet before now. I figure if there’s one thing I can safely put permanently on my skin, it’s something hockey-related.
“We go in to see them soon, right?”
“Yeah. Ballistic says they look amazing, but that’s not really a surprise.”
I nod. I’ve been to Inked Armor once for the original consult on the team tattoo, just after the season ended. Since I started seeing Charlene, I’ve spent a lot more time hanging out with the other guys on my team who have girlfriends. It’s not something I usually do, considering my relationships with women haven’t ever been all that conventional. Until Charlene. And it’s still not exactly conventional.
Alex rolls his shoulder. I have a feeling he pushed it a little too hard today, despite my efforts to rein him in. He’s competitive, and he has a hard time with the idea that he might not be in top form by the time training camp starts.
“Can I ask you something?” he says.
“Yeah, man, shoot.” I’m stretched out on the sauna bench, head back, eyes closed.
“It’s about Charlene.”
I try not to flinch, or react in any way. Alex and I are tight, almost like brothers, but we don’t get into deep discussions about my relationship with Charlene. She’s his wife’s best friend, and giving him too many personal details when it comes to her is complicated. It’s not that I don’t trust him, because I do. But since he’s married, I figure whatever I tell him I’m also telling Violet. So I pretty much avoid the topic.
“Violet says she has her nipples pierced.”
I crack a lid. He’s not looking at me; he’s staring at the ceiling.
“What’s Violet doing looking at Charlene’s nipples?”
“So she does?”
“Yeah.” I have to work hard not to picture Charlene’s nipples in my head, or the conversation that led to her getting her nipples pierced. Or how fucking hot it is when she wears the delicate gold chain that connects them to each other, or the one that hooks to her belly ring. She looks so pretty and soft with her clothes on, but the second they come off and the lights are dimmed, she’s a whole different woman. I fucking love it. Most of the time.
“What’s that like?”
“What are Charlene’s nipples like?”
“Violet asked me how I felt about her getting her nipples pierced, and honestly, I have no fucking clue because it’s not something I’ve ever thought about. But apparently it’s something she’s considering, so I figure I should be informed by someone who knows the deal.”
I squeeze the back of my neck, working out how I want to word this. “Well, Charlene likes them because they make sensation much more intense.”
“So it’s good?”
“Yeah.”
“Like, orgasm good?”
“For Charlene, yeah.”
“And you like them?”
“I think they’re sexy on the right woman.” And Charlene is exactly the right woman. The two-month healing time was the best foreplay ever.
Alex nods thoughtfully and doesn’t ask any more questions. I don’t give him any more answers.
After four hours at the gym—half of it spent not working out—I make a stop at one of the stores where Charlene likes to shop, based on the purchases that appear on the credit card I gave her. She doesn’t abuse it, which is why she has it. She only uses it when I request that she get something new, or sexy.
I’m well aware that her salary and mine don’t come close to matching, so I don’t think it’s fair that she has to spend her own money on something I’m going to appreciate for only a few minutes before I peel it off her incredibly sexy, toned body.
I head straight for one of the salesladies and tell her exactly what I’m looking for. Apparently, dark purple is not popular this time of year, and the only thing they have has a floral print on it. Charlene prefers solid colors to prints, so I browse the store, looking for something I think would look good on her curvy, lithe frame. I end up buying two dresses, because I like them both equally, and I’m also partial to giving Charlene options.
My next stop is the lingerie store. I spend much more time there. Charlene and I have very different taste in her lingerie. Not that I mind the things she picks—they’re interesting. But I prefer slightly more refined options. I’m willing to compromise, sometimes. Not tonight, however.
I find exactly the right thing, and a few others she might like as well, and I have the saleslady take the tags off before she wraps them in tissue paper.
“Are you sure you don’t want to leave the tags? In case she needs a different size?”
“I’m positive I know exactly what size she wears.” I tap my credit card on the counter.
“Of course.” She gives me a conspiratorial wink.
I smile, but I don’t understand what the wink is about. I can’t imagine not being aware of what size the woman I get into bed with on a regular basis wears. I also don’t want Charlene to see the price tags on this stuff; otherwise she’s liable to think she needs to make it up to me in some way. We have enough of a power struggle as it is. I don’t need to make it worse with what’s supposed to be a gift.
The cashier rings it up to the tune of nine hundred dollars, which I’ll gladly pay, because Charlene in pretty things is a sight to behold.
I head home, shower again—because the ones at the gym don’t make me feel particularly clean—shave, and hit my closet. As I rifle through my clothes, I shoot Charlene a message asking about her day at the spa. She sends me a picture of her lavender-painted toe and fingernails.
Instead of messaging her again, I call. She answers on the second ring.
“Having fun with Violet?” I ask.
“So much. Thank you again for this.”
“No thanks necessary. What time do you think you’ll be home?”
“Violet’s just finishing her last treatment, so we’ll be leaving here in the next half hour.”
I check the time. It’s four thirty, which gives me and Charlene plenty of time.
“I assume you won’t be able to go shopping.”
“It’s unlikely. Is that going to be a problem?”
“I anticipated that might happen, so no, it’s not a problem.” I finger a dark gray tie with fine purple stripes and wait for her response.
“Oh. Okay.” As expected, she’s not pleased by this.
“I have a request, though, if you feel the timing is adequate.”
“Oh? What kind of request?” Excitement makes her voice waver.
“I went shopping for you.”
“Really?”
I wish I could see her expression right now. I’m not su
re if her surprise is a good thing. “Really.”
“What did I do to deserve all this pampering?” she asks softly.
“You put up with me. Isn’t that enough?”
Charlene laughs. “Like it’s such a chore. So what’s the request?”
“I’d like to come by your place a little early so you have time to get dressed.”
“And you want me to model everything for you?”
“Mmm.”
“How would you like me to answer the door?”
I close my eyes and filter through all of the ways Charlene has answered her door in the past, in various states of undress. “Not naked would be preferable.”
“Well, that’s no fun.”
“I’ll see you at six.”
She sighs. “Okay.”
“And Charlene?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t forget your pearls.”
“Of course not, Darren.”
_______________
I arrive at Charlene’s at 5:57. I chose the tie with purple stripes to match the dress and lingerie I’ve purchased, which is hanging from my finger. I ring the doorbell and hear the quick clip of shoes coming down the hall. She’s wearing heels. I’m excited to find out what she’s paired them with.
She opens the door a crack, enough for me to catch a glimpse of one hazel eye and her lip-glossed smile. “Hi.”
I raise the bag dangling from my finger. “I come bearing gifts.”
She steps back and opens the door just enough to let me in. There’s a good reason for her to stay out of her neighbors’ line of sight. Charlene isn’t exactly naked, but she’s close. She’s wearing a pair of black heels and, of course, her pearls. The fine gold chain I love so much connects her pierced nipples. My dick is immediately annoyed that we don’t have nearly enough time to play before we have to leave for dinner.
Anticipating a greeting such as this, I took care of myself before I left my place. It takes the edge off, but getting through dinner is probably going to be a challenge. I close the door and turn the lock—not that I expect anyone to come barging in, but Charlene is mostly naked, and I don’t want anyone to see her in this particular state but me.
“Should we go upstairs so I can model everything for you?” She has her hands clasped behind her back. It pushes her breasts out and pulls on the delicate chain across her chest.
I follow the fine gold links with a fingertip. “I think down here is better, don’t you?”
She shivers when I graze the swell of her breast and stop short of her nipple. “If that’s what you’d prefer.”
I give the chain a tug and her eyes flutter shut. Her lips part, and her breath leaves her on a tiny, almost inaudible whimper.
“Come with me.” With my finger still hooked under the chain, I guide her down the hall. I have her wait at the entrance to the living room while I pull all the curtains closed. Then I move the coffee table out of the way and survey the room. I can feel Charlene watching me, but I don’t look at her—mostly because if I do I’m liable to say fuck trying on the things I bought for her, and then the entire point is lost.
I sit down on the end of the couch and put the bag in the middle, intentionally making it impossible for her to sit beside me. “Why don’t you come have a seat?”
Charlene looks a little disappointed, maybe because I’ve asked her to come to me rather than retrieving her. She keeps her hands clasped behind her back, the muscles in her legs flexing with each step. Her hair is pulled up, with loose tendrils framing her fine features. When she reaches the couch, she unclasps her hands and sits slowly at the very edge opposite me and the bag. She doesn’t cross her legs; instead she keeps her knees together, palms covering them.
I have to keep reminding myself that I have a plan for tonight, and I need to stick to it.
I stretch one arm across the back of the couch. “Go ahead and open it.”
Charlene shifts a little closer and peeks inside the bag. She pulls out the first wrapped item. “How many things did you get for me?”
“A few.”
She bites her lip, carefully peels off the sticker and unwraps the tissue paper. Inside is a pale, lacy bra and panty set. I wait for her reaction. This isn’t something Charlene would choose on her own. Before I started adding pieces to her collection, everything was black, blood red, or dark purple—some of it with quite a bit of…embellishment. I don’t have a problem with any of those colors, or the leather/metal enhancements. She looks amazing in everything she puts on her body, but I also like her in pretty, soft things, because they match far better who she is on the inside, even if she would like that to not be the case.
Charlene glances up at me, her brow arched. “This is pretty.”
I grin. “I know.”
“Should I try it on before I open the next one?”
“Open them all. Then you can try on the one you like the best first.”
By the time she’s finished unwrapping everything—it takes a long time since she’s so methodical about it—it’s already twenty after six.
I’m a little concerned at this point that Charlene isn’t going to have enough time to try all the items on. I’m also worried about the current state of my dick. My balls are starting to ache from the hard-on I’ve had since she answered the door. I really don’t want to have to sit through three hours of dinner, able to picture perfectly whatever she chooses to wear under her dress.
“Will you help me with this?” I’m unsurprised when Charlene picks up the lavender lace corset with dark purple ribbon accents. It has no cups, framing her breasts rather than covering them.
“Of course.”
I wait while she loosens the ribbon lacing up the back. When it’s ready, she stands in front of me and steps delicately into the corset, shimmying it up her legs and over her hips to her waist. Then she turns and gives me her back. Her ass—her perfect, luscious, sweet ass that I’m going to do dirty, unspeakable things to later—is right in my face. I run my hands over her hips, resisting the urge to cup and squeeze, which is probably what she wants me to do.
Instead, I move her forward a few steps until she’s in the center of the throw rug. Across the room on the wall is a huge mirror, giving us an excellent view of her new lingerie. I carefully pull the ribbons, making sure it’s even on either side before I move down to the next loop, until I’m at the dip in her spine. Then I help her roll on and fasten garters, stockings, and gloves, all with the same ribbon accents.
“What do you think?” she asks.
I glance up to meet her gaze in the mirror. She’s fingering her pearls.
“I think I should call the restaurant and tell them we need a later reservation.”
Chapter Seven
add ons
ALEX
IT’S THE MIDDLE of the week, and Violet is working on an account tonight, so I’m out with the guys, doing what we do when it’s off-season and we’re not working out: drinking beer and watching sports.
“They’ve got all the preliminary designs ready for us at Inked Armor. You guys wanna go check them out this weekend?” Randy’s focused on his phone.
Lance leans in closer, and his brow furrows. “Is the one with the heart for you? Gonna get that tattooed on your ass cheek?”
Ballistic elbows him in the ribs, causing Lance to hunch over and bang into the table, almost knocking over my pint glass.
“Lily’s having a design made up, you dick.”
“Lily’s getting a tattoo?” Lily’s always been pretty straight-laced and not the type I’d imagine would be interested in body art—but clearly I’m wrong, or dating Ballistic has changed that.
Randy smiles. “She sure is. I’m rubbing off on her.”
The way his eyes light up tells me he means this literally and figuratively. Lily’s my little sister’s long-time best friend, and therefore like a surrogate sister. She spent a lot of time at my house as a kid, being a pest, so now she’s family. It took a while for me to be ok
ay with her dating Ballistic.
Not that he’s a bad guy or anything. He’s not. It’s more that those two are probably the horniest pair on the face of the Earth, and we all have to bear witness to their constant mauling. It’s a little weird for me. Not that Violet and I are any better—especially with how exuberant she can be.
Later this summer we’re planning a trip to the Chicago cottage, and I’m really hoping those two can rein in their fuckitude, as Violet calls it. I’m also hoping Violet can manage to tone down her enthusiasm just a little.
“Who’s putting the ink on her?” Lance asks.
“Hayden’s designing it.”
“Where’s she want it to go?” Miller asks.
Randy shrugs and checks his phone when it vibrates. “We’re gonna talk about it when we go in to look at the sketches. I’m kinda partial to her hip, but I think Lily might want it in a more visible spot, so we’ll see.”
“Hip tattoos are sexy on the ladies,” Lance says, then frowns. “But doesn’t that mean the artist will be all up in your girl’s shit?”
“Huh?” Randy’s still focused on his phone, which isn’t unusual. He’s often checking messages from Lily.
Lance points to his crotch. “He’ll have his hands near her pussy, aye?”
“He’ll be putting a tattoo on, not trying to finger-bang her,” Randy snaps, but he starts stroking his beard, which means he’s considering what Lance has accurately pointed out. “Besides, I’ll be there with her the entire time.”
“To supervise?” Lance needles.
“If you want to take this outside, let me know.”
Lance grins. “Don’t get yer panties in a twist, Balls. I’m just stating the obvious.”
“Hayden’s a professional. And she’s not getting it until after the summer is over, so we’ve got lots of time to compromise on a location.”
“We all carpooling? I can pick you up on the way.” I nod to Darren, who’s been relatively quiet. There’s a ballgame on, though, and Darren likes to watch any sport, not just hockey.
“That works for me, but Charlene wants to come with.”
“Is she thinking about getting ink?” Randy asks.
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