The glaring red numbers said 3:02 in the darkness of the bedroom. He saw her there, lying on his side of the mattress, curled around a pillow. Her hair shone in the moonlight, the blonde color glowing almost like gold.
He dropped his bag quietly in the corner and kicked off his shoes and socks. The jacket was next, falling on the floor as he walked slowly toward her. He practically ripped the tie from his neck, the pressure of it earlier feeling like it would strangle him. He threw it toward the hamper, probably missing the basket, but his eyes were focused on the body in the bed.
As he stared at her, sleeping so peacefully, he was torn between waking her and letting loose his frustrations, or falling asleep and waiting until morning. She sighed and it looked like she had burrowed into the pillow. With a small, very small, smile, he unbuttoned his short and shrugged it off, undid his pants and let them fall, and then pulled his undershirt off. Now in just a pair of cotton boxer briefs, he stretched one more time, cracking many of his bones and feeling his sore muscles pull.
Then he pulled back the covers and locked his jaw as he fought the urge to ravage his sleeping beauty. She’d pulled out all the stops tonight, probably betting he’d come home and they’d celebrate his second trip to the Finals. With a silent groan of frustration, he let the covers settle back over her body and walked out of their room. The bra and panties were one thing, but the matching thigh highs did him in.
He couldn’t face her tonight. She didn’t need to see him like this. It was more than he felt he could handle and he didn’t want to put her through it. Tomorrow would be early enough to lay all his failure out for her to see. Tonight… tonight he’d let her get a peaceful sleep. Morning would be soon enough to see if she could handle being with a hockey player through the toughest loss of all… the end of a season.
She opened her eyes at the sound of the shower being turned off.
She blinked a couple times, adjusting to the bright Florida sun coming through the windows. She didn’t remember being woken up last night, but at some point he must’ve made it home. Sitting up, she shoved her hair out of her face and glanced around the room.
Duffel bag, clothes strewn about the place, he must be home. Time to find him.
She was actually surprised that she hadn’t been wrapped in a pair of strong arms when she woke up, but then again… this wasn’t just a loss in the regular season. Or even a regular loss in the post-season. Last night Boston had shut them out and taken away their trip to the Stanley Cup Finals. She stepped out of bed and grabbed his shirt that was still hanging off the bedpost. Then she slipped her heels on and wandered to the bathroom.
He was standing at the sink, a pair of boxers resting on his hips. His face was covered in shaving cream and he looked worn out. Leaning on the door frame, she cleared her throat. He looked up, his hand ready to make the first swipe.
“Morning’… you want some help?”
“I don’t know… I might just nick myself on purpose…”
“Let me do it then,” she said with a small smile.
Her footsteps clicked as she stepped across the tile and she tucked some errant strands of hair behind her ear. His eyes watched her every move. Coming to a stop before him, she held out her hand and he sighed as he placed the razor in her palm. Pushing him to sit on the toilet, she went to work, cleaning the beard and mustache from his face quickly and efficiently.
She tried to ignore the way his eyes stared at her breasts each time her arm reached over to clean off the blades. Tried not to notice the way the material of his underwear was tenting. On her next swipe she had to clench her thighs together as he blew a slow breath out, the air moving softly over her breasts and making her nipples pucker against the fabric of her bra.
“I like the outfit babe,” he said in a low tone. “I wish we could’ve celebrated last night.”
Holding his head still, she ran the razor over the final spot of white and then grabbed a towel from the sink to make sure she hadn’t left any patches. Then she smoothed her hand over one cheek and bit her cheek to keep from moaning as he twisted his neck, nipping at her thumb.
“When the final buzzer went off, I chose the black one… a sexy version of mourning black. I thought maybe this morning that I had offended you and I wanted to make sure tha--”
He stood quickly and pressed his lips to hers. She could smell a combination of shaving cream and shampoo. His body felt like molten lava, the heat from the shower just adding to his furnace effect. She was running her tongue over his bottom lip when he spun her around.
She bit her lip as he slid the shirt off her shoulders. With the material encasing the lower part of her arms, his fingers pulled the thin straps of her bra as well before one hand pulled her hair, pushing it over her left shoulder. Then his lips were on her neck, quick kisses moving down over her shoulder while his right hand came up to cup her breast.
As his fingers palmed her lace-covered flesh, she arched into his hand. His other hand was low on her hip, his fingers gripping hard, holding her against him. She gasped as the cup was pulled down, and her nipple hardened because of the combination of cool air and his fingers. She grabbed his boxers with one hand while he guided her other one toward the front of her panties.
“Touch yourself for me,” he whispered in her ear. “Are you getting wet for me?”
She let out a strangled moan as she felt just how ready she already was for him. It didn’t take much when you were staring at someone who was such a tall drink of water. He chuckled and his breath skimmed across her neck, goose bumps rising across her arms at the feeling. He twisted her back around, his hands whisking his shirt from her body before they came up and he covered her breasts, pushing them together with a slight rough touch. Then he bent his head, his tongue running over both nipples.
“Oh god,” she gasped out as he mauled her tits. He was careful yet strong, his inner need fighting with his outer thoughtfulness. She waited for the control to snap, for the beast to come out, for the pain of last night to surface. While he was busy up top, she ran her hands down his body, pushing the boxers out of the way and wrapping her hand around the thick, hard length that jumped with need.
He groaned and his teeth tugged one rosy tip as she licked her palm before dropping it down and stroking him. Her power over him lasted all of five seconds before he had her turned once more, her stomach pushing against the edge of the counterpace. He leaned over and pulled open one of the drawers, lifting her leg and setting the platform of her shoe on the corner. Then his hand was centered on her lower back.
“Bend over,” he growled. She obeyed and felt him slide the thin material of her thong over one cheek. She stifled a moan as she felt the tip of his dick nudge her entrance. He tested the waters and she scrambled to find something to hold onto as he placed his hands on her hips and pushed himself into her pussy.
His cock stretched her, filled her. He moved within her slowly, her body opening up for him, her juices coating him as he gave her more and more of impressive length. A few more thrusts and he was fully embedded in her depths, his grip tightening as he executed precise movements, drawing back and pushing deep, drawing back and pushing deep.
Neither one of them made a sound. She watched him in the mirror. His lips were curled back almost in a snarl as he stared down at their joined bodies. He punished her with each thrust, his hips slapping against her ass each time he bottomed out. His eyes sought hers in the glass and he stared hard, daring her to break the contact.
She stared back at him, her eyes telling him what her mouth couldn’t. She begged for more, willed him to take what he wanted. And as he pounded into her, one hand reached down, her own fingers running over her dripping heat, finding that kernel of nerves that made her walls shudder around him. His pupils dilated, his adam’s apple bobbed.
“Do it again baby.”
Her fingers brushed the button and she almost lost it. His paced quickened, his grip so tight it was bound to leave marks. Her breath caught in her throat and he picked her up, spinning them both so he could sit on the lid of the toilet. Her legs fell on either side of his thighs, her back pressed against his chest. He growled in her ear, telling her to keep playing with herself. His hands were spanning her sides, his hips bucking as he bounced her on his cock.
“Rub your clit for me, make yourself come all over my dick.”
He issued ordered to her like he yelled them out on the ice. He as precise and calculating. Her body tightened with pleasure but she held off, wanting to feel him go off like a roman candle when the stars burst behind her eyelids. He was close, she could hear it in his breathing. Tilting her head, her lips found his neck, biting at the flesh there.
“I’m going to come,” she whispered against his skin and she heard him groan. He pushed her hand away and took over, rubbing at her clit with gusto, bringing her to the ledge. Then, with another brutal thrust, he pinched that little button and like a timer she went off, her cry tearing from her lips as she felt the waves of pleasure roll through her, just as she felt his seed pour into her.
When it was over, when she was wrung out and exhausted, her body lay nestled into his comfortably. Her breathing was calmer, her heart rate slowing back down. His fingers skimmed her arms, her legs, finally resting on her stomach. He lifted her hair off her neck and pressed a quick kiss just below her ear.
“I love you Stephanie.”
“Love you Vinny.”