“Hold your dress up for me,” he instructs. Nicky’s denim parts, revealing black boxer-briefs, bulging with the hard, straining outline of the cock they contain. I lick my lips at the ridge I can see from the cut head and the barest peek of ruddy pink cresting the elastic band against his stomach. I gather my skirt quickly, bunching the softness in my hands and raising it over my hips. I’m nearly completely exposed, my aching pussy covered by the matching pale pink lace thong. Nicky groans, abandoning dipping his thumbs into the waist of his own underwear to run the back of one large finger over my cloth-covered sex. “All for me?” he teases, hooking the thong with the same finger and pulling it to the side. “God, you’re so fucking wet. If I had more time, I’d lick every drop you’re giving me. But we have to hurry.”
Through the fog of his intoxicating touch, confusion seeps in.
“Why?” I manage around gasps as he buries his finger inside me briefly before drawing the wetness up to circle my clit. “Why do we have to hurry?”
Nicky slips his finger down to my entrance, plunging it inside again and pumping once. Twice. The tendrils of a mind-altering orgasm begin to weave through me, and I want it so badly my hips chase his retreating hand. I open my mouth to protest, only for Nicky to swallow it with another fierce kiss, pulling back to stare at me.
“Because you have to wake up.”
I jolt upright in the gray twilight of a Wednesday morning. My skin is clammy, coated in a swiftly cooling sweat, and I’m breathless. My pussy throbs, empty and swollen with anticipation for a non-existent cock.
“FUCK!” I shout into my quiet bedroom before flopping back into my pillows.A dream.I groan and throw an arm over my eyes, trying to catch the fading glimpse of the dream—Nicky’s face.Best fucking dream of my life,I think as the image dissipates into darkness. I roll onto my side and check my phone to see it’s just before five. I groan, knowing I won’t be able to get back to sleep before needing to get ready for work.
I set the phone on the nightstand and flatten to my back to stare at the ceiling. My body still buzzes from the intensity of the dream. I can practically feel the ghost of Nicky’s touch on my skin, the fever left behind not tempering the longer I lie still.
“Fuck it,” I announce to no one. I reach for my nightstand again, opening the drawer to extract my petal-pink rose vibrator. It’s fully charged—a state I maintain with militaristic dedication—and I gaze at it with resigned appreciation. “At least you’re real.”
CHAPTER 8
NICKY
“Bonesy!” Natalia squeals gleefully as she opens our front door for Charlie. Seeing her excited face, my closest friend kneels down to her level and gives her hair a gentle ruffle.
“Hi, Natty,” Charlie greets her before looking over her head at me. I give him a nod and let the pair follow me into the living room to the left of the entry. I hear them chatting and the snick of the front door closing as I cross the open-living space.
I bought the house with my first NHL contract. Coach guided me through the process, helping me secure a realtor and the bank loan. As a former young, single dad, I’ve always had a deep connection with Callum Andrews. He’s stepped in more than once over the years to help me tackle the balance of parenthood and playing, becoming so loved by Natalia that she calls him “Papa Cal” and thinks of him as her grandfather.
I ended up putting twenty percent down on the four-bedroom farmhouse in a neighborhood with good schools and taking on a huge adult responsibility: a thirty-year mortgage.I slowly built up the style that runs throughout: durable and comfortable for a growing child and an oversized professional athlete. The downstairs has this living room, an open-concept kitchen and dining room, one bathroom, and two bedrooms: the guest room and another that Natalia uses for storing her toys when they’re not scattered about the living room. Upstairs are twin primary suites: large bedrooms with attached full baths. I loved the idea of having Natalia on the same floor as me, but not sacrificing anything else for either of us.
The house has a large front and back yard, with a three-car garage attached to the kitchen. The single port is an in-home gym, while the double is where I park my SUV and we keep Natalia’s bike. There’s room for a second car, and Ms. Margaret parks there when she’s working. Our street is full of other families with children of varying ages, but the generous lot size helps us from feeling too crowded. Our subdivision is less than an hour from the team facilities and arena, and on a warm day, we could take a long walk to Natalia’s school instead of driving.
With the autumnal chill of November fully setting in on the East Coast, we don’t walk too often at the moment. But school has become progressively easier since that first day, with Nat thriving in music class and making a core group of friends she has playdates with frequently. Today, her playdate is one Charlie Kane, stepping in as a last-minute sitter on our off day, so I can go into the facility for an interview with the documentary crew before we hit the road for back-to-back away games and come home for Thanksgiving. It’s a grind—and part of the job—but I can’t wait to spend so much time with Nat since she’s off from school.
My daughter and Charlie join me in the living room, Charlie crossing to where I’ve settled into my large sectional, while Natalia runs upstairs to grab whatever she wants to play with.
“I should be back in a couple of hours, and then we can order some pizza,” I say to Charlie as he settles on the plush carpet, his long legs extended in front of him and crossed at his socked ankles.
“Pizza sounds good. If I can convince Nat to put the MagnaTiles away, can we watch a movie?” He gestures to the half-built castle of transparent colored tiles and the various princess figures around it. “I’ve been wanting to introduce her toHow to Train Your Dragon.The animated version, not the live action—that might be too scary.”
“If she wants to, that’s okay,” I agree, then check the time on my watch. I stand and stretch, wondering why I bothered sitting down in the first place.
“What’s the interview about today?” Charlie asks from his spot on the floor. He’s picked up Merida. The princess fromBravesits in the palm of his hand, her bow and arrow pointed at him.
“Not sure,” I reply. “I’m never really sure. Sometimes, it’s just a recap of what’s happened: games and training. Other times, Andy wants to know more about the dynamics of playing. Our team and how I found my place on it.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad,” he contemplates, his deep voice rumbling in a thoughtful way. “Plus, Bea’s still there to make sure you’re not asked anything you don’t want to answer, right?”
“Yeah, she’s there.” I try to infuse my voice with as much nonchalance as possible, even taking a few purposeful steps toward the entryway, but Charlie scoffs.
“Man, you’re so gone for her, aren’t you?”
My head drops back, and I stare at my perfectly cream-colored ceiling for a moment. Turning back to my friend, I hold my hands out, like that explains everything. Charlie’s face breaks into a huge grin, and he rises with a surprising amount of grace from the floor.
“Oh, it’s about damn time you admitted it!” Charlie slaps his hand on my shoulder. He’s excited—thrilledeven. I open my mouth, but he continues with his enthusiastic support, “The way you were both eyeing each other at Halloween? All of us kept thinking we were interrupting a private moment, but then…nothing. Are you finally going to do something about it?”
“Like what?” I shrug off his hand and shake my head. “I’ve barely let myself enjoy a woman since Natalia came along, and I damn near gave up the idea of finding anything serious when I joined the league. Between single-dad life and our schedule, what woman would want that?”
“One who knows you’re more than what’s on the surface.” Charlie angles his head until he can lock eyes with me. He’s six inches shorter than me, two years my junior, and doesn’t carry quite the same burdens as me. But right now, he’s doing that thing every guy on the team knows he can do: be older, wiser, and bigger than all of us. He speaks from a font of experience we’ve never been able to source, but is always spot on. He’s hitting me with a truth I need to hear, so I stand still, pushing away all the doubt creeping in and paying attention. “One who sees past that stone exterior you’ve got. She’ll protect you and make you laugh, and she’ll make Natalia a part of her world because she’s part of yours. She’ll knowyou, the same way you’ll know her. But not if you don’t try.”
