Maybe I’m still a little drunk.
And turned on.
I wish he’d kissed me for real so I’d know for sure if it’s anything like I’ve imagined.
Raw passion. Pent up wildness breaking free. One that I could drown from. That could ruin me for anyone else. A kiss dreams are made of.
Oh, screw it. I need some self-care.
I go to the bottom drawer of my nightstand to pull out one of my trusty favorites from my collection of toys. It’s an insanely good vibrator with pulses of air that send me right over the edge to a knee-shaking orgasm when I use it on my clit.
Especially at times when my release feels like it could wander off on me in the middle of pleasuring myself, this thing is a total godsend.
I needed it with Shawn, or I’d never get off. He hated that I liked to use a vibrator when we had sex. Complained he could give me everything I needed, yet never was willing to put in the extra work it sometimes takes for me to finish. He sure as hell never understood that toys aren’t his enemy or replacement.
I could be moments from coming and a single stray thought could distract me enough that—poof—the orgasm is gone, back to the starting line. It wasn’t until I spoke with a therapist about my troubles during intimate moments both with partners and by myself that I learned there was nothing wrong with me at all.
Stripping off my underwear, I stretch across my bed with the vibrator and my phone. I’m debating between playing some of the spicy scenes I’ve bookmarked from my favorite romance audiobooks, or going for one of those erotic audios when a notification flashes at the top of my screen.
Love Struck: It’s a match! Open to find out if love has struck.
Too curious to leave the notification unread, I tap on it. Then freeze.
It’s another match with Cole. How the?—?
This is fate. It has to be.
Actually, I don’t care what we call it. All I know is that my resolve is only so strong. Resisting him is impossible.
He messages me first.
MightyPuck:Funny seeing you here. I thought you were deleting the app?
CraftyCutie:No comment.
That was the plan. I was all for sticking to the plan, maybe picking another dating app to try.
Then Shawn unblocked my number a few days before Christmas to text me in the middle of the night trying to score a booty call. This time I blocked him, then re-downloaded the app to find someone to help me forget all about my ex.
I wasn’t thinking about rematching with Cole at the time, although I ignored every other person the app connected me with. What does this make it, six? Seven times? I don’t know, I’ve lost count over the last several weeks.
CraftyCutie:The real question is what are you doing online late at night looking at my profile?
MightyPuck:…no comment.
CraftyCutie:This is all because I put ‘hockey players are sexy’ in my profile. That has to be why we keep matching.
MightyPuck:I’m a hockey player.
My heart stops. It doesn’t simply skip a beat. I think the damn thing gives up then and there.
And honestly? I don’t blame it, because all I’m picturing now is Cole in his hockey gear with all that fierce, savage energy that gets me hot.
With my inhibitions lowered, hockey-related fantasies about him run rampant through my mind.
I don’t care if the locker room stinks in reality, if he wanted to fuck me there, I’d one hundred and ten percent be down for what would surely be one of the hottest experiences of my life. I’d let him have me any way he wanted. With his jersey on, without it, with me wearing it and him gripping a tight fistful for leverage to drive into me harder and?—
I fan myself, squeezing my thighs together against the insistent pulse of desire throbbing in my core.
