Chapter 16
Beckett
ItouchedFinleyBlake.
And it did something to me.
It took all my effort to make myself remove my hand from the soft, heated skin of her face. And after that, I have no idea what happened. All I knew was that I wanted to touch her again.
God, did I really confess to being lonely while in a hormone-induced blackout? Fuck, my brain needs all the help it can get—I can’t be sending all that blood south.
Now, I’ve been lying in my bed, trying to sleep for the last hour.
Unfortunately, every time I close my eyes, she’s there. Beautiful and strong with a piercingly intelligent glint in her eyes.
I can’t stop thinking about her in the exact way I swore I wouldn’t.
My mind has a different idea, though. One that involves significantly fewer clothes.
I squeeze my eyes shut, sliding my hands under my ass to keep myself from giving in to the fantasy that keeps playing through my mind.
“Such a good boy.”
Fuck. Now she’s talking to me. And, turns out, I’ve got a praise kink when it comes to Finley Blake. Great. Usually,I’mthe one who likes to give praise in bed.
“What’s the harm in touching yourself?” Finley asks in my mind as she crosses her arms, daring me to disobey.
I will not be reflecting on the fact that my fantasy versionof my hockey coachinvolves her wearing her game-day suit, tall black heels, and no fucking shirt under her jacket.
“This is so messed up,” I mutter before slowly sliding my right hand out from under me.
Just this once. I’ll give in to the temptation this once, and then I’ll move on. We’ll get through this competition. And then, to fill the fucking void not spending time with her will cause, I’ll go on some dates. Go out to a few bars with the other guys, maybe a club or two.
But, for now, I need release. I’m not sure it’s even healthy to have an erection for this long.
I search the nightstand next to me, digging through the drawer until I find the small bottle of lotion I keep there, though, with the way my dick has been weeping, I’m not sure it’s needed.
Closing my eyes, I conjure Finley again. Now, she’s in nothing but one of my T-shirts with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. And a real fucking smile. The one that accompanies the laugh that makes me wish I could bottle it.
In my mind, Finley pushes me onto the rumpled comforter, a playful glint in her eye as she climbs over me, her hands smoothing up my thighs as she goes.
Her mouth wraps around my cock as my hand acts as the poor substitute in real life. She works my length, using her handto help with all of me. I let out a moan, and Finley laughs. The sound, combined with the imagined vibrations, brings me straight to the fucking edge. I’m not sure whether I’m glad she’s not really here to see me come like a two-pump chump, or if I would give my left nut to have the chance to feel the tip of my cock hit the back of her throat. To hear her breathless choke. To gasp when she grips my balls a little too tight, reminding me exactly who is in charge here.
I work my hand faster, knowing if I stay in this dreamscape any longer, I won’t be able to get back out. That I’ll do whatever it takes to turn this dream into reality.
Squeezing slightly tighter around my bursting cock, I pump once, twice, three times, before coming with a grunt all over my hand and stomach.
“Fuck,” I mutter, using my briefs to wipe the cum off my body.
As I drift off to sleep in a post-orgasm haze, I realize I’m already looking forward to tomorrow—not because of hockey, not because of my real life, but because I’ll be able to spend a few minutes with the version of Finley I so desperately want again tomorrow night. The one who’s only allowed to exist in my dreams.
Chapter 17
Finley
Bostonisloud.Theirfans are hostile, and their boys are out for blood. As we near the end of February, teams are playing like their season is on the line—because in most cases, like ours, it is.
Our team moves the puck, J.D. pushing forward as our wingers fly to beat him into position. Murmuring to Shaw, I make a suggestion about a tweak before turning my attention back to the play.
