“Come for me.”
“Bite me.” Fuck. As soon as the words are out of my mouth I regret them. But it just serves to make him fuck me even faster.
“I will in a few weeks.” The threat sends a delicious sliver of anticipation slithering up my spine. “Come.” He’s grunting, beads of sweat bubble across his forehead, one trickles down his temple and the side of his face. His rhythm’s disjointed, he’s losing control, getting closer, and he’s swelling inside me. “Come!” he roars as an orgasm rips through every muscle in my body.
My body jerks, vision blurs, muscles tremble, his fingers are going to leave bruises on my legs as he grips me with a savagery that makes me explode on his cock.
“That’s my girl. Let it go.”
Before I’m finished coming, he drives into me, harder, deeper, faster, and after a few jerky thrusts he roars again as he comes.
When he collapses on top of me, all the oxygen leaves my body on a grunt. “Fuck.”
He rolls onto his side, pulls off the condom, ties it off and drops it off his side of the bed. “Fuck indeed. Are you a post-coital cuddler?”
I answer by curling into his open arms and sighing.
“You know I love it when you’re all blissed out and soft in my arms.”
He said the L-word. I know it’s not in the same context, but the L-word when we’re both naked in any context has to mean something, right?
CHAPTER 29
Penelope
Imade a mistake.
I shouldn’t have asked Tate to come to the Raccoon’s game with me tonight.
The past week has been amazing. I’ve spent almost all my time at the hockey house, but I managed to convince Tate to come out to play a couple times.
We had pie at Get the Fork Out, or rather, I did while he ignored my protests and watched. We went to Bitches Brew for hot chocolate, and we’ve played Monopoly with some of his teammates damn near every night this week. Unsurprisingly, Ares is a sore loser.
Tate’s not one hundred percent, but he’s one hundred percent better than he was last week.
At least he was, until I asked him to come to the game with me tonight.
He needs to get back in the rink. He’s a couple weeks out from getting his jaw wiring removed. He’s been at the gym with one of the other guy’s personal trainers, Phil, four days this week, and he’s been upping his protein in a bid to counter his still declining weight issue and help rebuild his muscles.
But he doesn’t want to watch his friends on the ice during a game from the stands. I get it, I do. At least kind of. He probably doesn’t want to be bothered by fans asking him about his mouth and having to talk to them either.
Maybe it was a silly thing for me to suggest, but I thought he might like watching a game with me. Turns out, he didn’t want that at all. He didn’t snap at me, or raise his voice, but he did decline my game night invitation and told me he’d stay home. Reluctantly, I let him, even though I know he’s glued to his laptop screen from the comfort of his bedroom right now.
I shuffle past Eloise and Tori to get to my seat. It’s a quieter than normal game night, but with Thanksgiving on the horizon, everyone’s starting to wind down and make their way home for the holiday. At least that’s my guess.
By the time we’re three minutes into the first, we already have a goal waved off by the referee. It was a loose puck behind Minnesota’s goaltender, but I think the ref needs to go see his eye doctor because it was over the fucking line.
Fine. I’m sitting pretty far away, I’m not trained to be a hockey referee, and I’m slightly biased in that I’m cheering for the Raccoons—but none of that matters because it was a good goal. No matter what the referee says.
Scott plays the puck across to Artemis who passes it forward to his brother Apollo. Now that I’ve spent time with them, watching them on the ice feels different. It’s weird that I know Apollo loves peanut butter ice cream, and Scott likes fancy cheese, and that Artemis’s tall, dark, and broody exterior is a crock of shit, he’s a sweetheart.
Lamaru, one of the Snow Pirates, tips it in, Scott and Artemis go after it, but Ares is already saving it. He’s the kind of goaltender who seems to be everywhere at all times. And he’s so fucking bendy. I’m glad whatever he pulled in his groin healedup fast. It feels like a lot of sports injuries are easy to make better fast when you have money and a great medical team behind you.
I swallow the bitterness in my throat and cheer as Ares saves it again, Scott ices the rebound, and there’s an icing call. The next face-off happens on the circle to the right of Ares, and once the puck is in play, it’s passed into the corner where a group of green and white Raccoon’s shirts battle for it.
The Snow Pirates try to play for the net, but they can’t get control of the puck and the Raccoons play it out of their zone.
It’s a strong turnover as the Raccoon’s charge toward the Snow Pirate’s net. Rico flicks his wrist, it’s a beaut of a wrist-shot, but the Snow Pirate’s goalie saves big.
