Feeling bold, I place my palms against his muscular chest that’s tragically covered by a tight gray T-shirt.
“I had a lovely evening. Can we do this again when I have another free day?” he asks, and I nod.
I’m more than familiar with a professional hockey player’s schedule. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I approached him and laid all my cards out on the table.
He has to lean down significantly to kiss me, and I take that moment to really explore his chest.
Good lord, I might just faint when I see him shirtless.
His lips are soft and sweet, completely different to the way he usually carries himself. I can tell he’s using all of his self control, which makes me want to break it even further.
I’ve never been much of a rule follower, and when I want something, I want it. But I’m also trying to respect his wishes.
We’ll take it as slow as I can possibly tolerate.
When he pulls back, I groan in frustration.
“Patience,” he tells me, rubbing his thumb along the back of my neck.
“I’m not the most patient.”
“I know you aren’t,” he says with a smile. “Text me as soon as you get home?”
That sends a flutter in my belly as I nod my head and begrudgingly get into my car and drive home from what might have been the sweetest date I could have ever asked for.
I don’t live far, and as soon as I park and walk up to my apartment, I send him a message.
Home safe.
Bram
Think of me. Good night, Sloane.
I melt into my mattress and dip into my toy drawer to take care of this built up sexual frustration and do exactly as he says. I come alone, but the idea of his scent and body are in the forefront of my mind while I do.
Changing a mascot’s uniform is a lot harder than I thought it would be, but the owner, my dad, and the marketing team have all agreed to my changes. It took a lot of big Omega doe eyes and comparing us to the other conference team mascots, but they crumbled under my persuasion.
I collected the pantone colors, created a sketch with extremely detailed instructions, and sent it off to a local woman who seemed to do work for the furry community. I just so happened to leave that aspect out of my presentation.
I also don’t let it get to my head when she tells me it’s the most detailed instructions she’s ever seen for a costume, and she's fortunately agreed to move us up in her schedule.
Finnegan the Fox should have a brand new look right before the Humane Society ribbon cutting and the first game of the season.
I already exchanged numbers with Max and Ethan so that we can plan our meetings. I could have taken it from the employee registrar, but I’m attempting to not break any more rules than necessary.
Me: Check out the new Finnegan the Fox costume.
Ethan
Holy shit, Sloane. You’re a genius.
Max
Less Rabid, more like that animated Fox with charisma.
I cover my mouth in laughter, realizing the cartoon Max is bringing up. Now that I look at it, he isn’t completely wrong. Though Finnegan is wearing a home jersey and not a slouchy button-up shirt.
Ethan
