“It’s your favorite, though.” It’s a constant in his winter-wardrobe rotation.
“I love it on you more than I like it on me.”
CHAPTER 26
FLIP
I’m lying on my hotel bed in Colorado, the most recent of Tally’s book recs lying next to me. It’s open to one of her dogeared sections—it was a particularly descriptive spicy scene—which I’ve read several times. And now I’m fisting my cock in one hand, and my phone in the other, watching the video Tally sent at my request. She’s wearing a pair of shorts that barely cover the swell of her perfect, biteable ass, strong legs on display, and a strappy athletic bra that I want to take off with my fucking teeth.
I stroke roughly, the strains of the song I danced to for her vibrating through my hand. The way she moves, the slow roll of her hips, the flip of her ponytail, how her eyes stay on the camera as she spins around the chair—it all pushes me closer to the edge. I groan as she moves to lie on her stomach, perky ass pressing up, chest brushing the floor. She grins impishly and winks, then she spins, lying on her back, undulating, hands sliding down her chest and over her stomach, easing along the inside of her thighs.
I increase my pace, fucking my hand like a man possessed. I’ve watched this video half a dozen times since she sent it, andthe best part is coming. Tally moves to her knees, legs spread wide, her body rolls as she seems to levitate, landing on her feet. She kicks a leg in the air, balancing on one foot, arm wrapped around the other leg, ankle by her ear as she does the splits standing. She falls forward and I rub my thumb over the crown, wishing for her hand, for her fingers, for her soft, wet pussy, and she hits the floor with grace.
Stroke up. She moves to her back again. Stroke down. She plants her feet on the floor, runs her hands down her thighs, eyes on the camera as her hips pop up, legs spreading wide again. One hand slides up her stomach, the other brushes her cheek as she fucks the air, head thrown back in mock ecstasy.
I can easily envision myself between her parted thighs, coming on her stomach as the orgasm slams through me. I let the video start again as I work to calm my breathing. She was close to breaking me at the dance studio. She knew it, too. And I appreciate the way she backed off. But watching her dance for only me and the way she moves? It’s a lethal combination for my hormones. So I asked for a video to take with me on this away series. She sent it right before she went to class so I can’t even call her to thank her.
The video pales in comparison to the real thing, but at least it takes the edge off. I’ve only been in Denver for two hours and I already hate being away from her. I can’t smell her lotion or shampoo, I can’t drive to her apartment to surprise her with breakfast, or lunch. I can’t hug her, kiss her, fight the urge to give in to the raging chemistry between us.
When Tristan messages to say they’re on their way to my room, I roll off the bed and head for the bathroom to clean myself up. I take my phone with me, deleting private messages on my professional account as I absently wipe cum off my stomach.
My DMs are full of messages from random women—sometimes Hemi and Hammer will go in and deletethem for me when they have time, but they’re currently knee deep in gala preparations—our yearly Terror fundraiser, supporting local programs and community outreach—so I’ve been doing it myself.
The last thing I want is for Tally to see messages from women offering me sex when we’ve barely made it off the bench.
I finish up in the bathroom, pull a shirt over my head, and flip the safety so the guys can let themselves in. Tristan raps once and pokes his head in before he enters, followed by Quinn, Ash, and Connor.
“Kellan going through the motions?” Goalies are their own breed, and Kellan, like Roman, has his own pregame routine.
“You know it.” Quinn glances at the open book on the bed. “Whatcha reading?”
“Tally recommended it. It’s the second in the series. It’s good so far.” Although I’ve been jumping around, reading her favorite passages.
Connor looks over Quinn’s shoulder. “Mildred loves that series.”
He never calls her Dred, like the rest of us. Always Mildred, darling, or little menace. The last is particularly hilarious, because there is nothing menacing about Dred.
“Doesn’t she usually read domestic thrillers?” I ask.
“Depends on her mood. She’ll read just about anything.” A faint smile tugs at his mouth. “We read a lot of romance together.”
“Like she reads a chapter then you read a chapter?” Quinn asks.
Connor smirks. “When it’s dual POV, she reads the heroine’s chapters and I read the hero’s.”
Connor is an interesting guy.
Tristan tips his head. “Huh.”
“I wonder if Shilpa would enjoy that,” Ash muses.
Quinn sets the book down. “You ready to go?”
“Sure thing.” I gather my stuff, and we head out.
The hotel is attached to the arena, so we make the short walk to the player entrance. Photographers snap photos as we head down the hall to the locker room. I haven’t started reading about myself, which means the media hasn’t gotten wind of my relationship with Tally yet. As much as I want to be open about dating her, I’m not looking forward to the attention it will bring.
I set those worries aside. Marinating in what-ifs won’t help me on the ice. I block out everything except for hockey and shift into game mode as I suit up.
