There’s something about walking into my house through the garage door, carrying grocery bags with Stevie following right behind me, that feels way too right. It’s a different sense of coming home, wanting to share my space and the routine of cooking with someone I really like.
Our plans aren’t overly thought out, simply a desire to chill with each other.
I had a morning skate, and Stevie worked at the bar. She got off at four p.m., and I picked her up. We hit the grocery store, and I pushed the cart while she pulled items off the shelves. A few people approached me for autographs. An older man wearing a Titans’ sweatshirt kept bemoaning that his grandson wasn’t with him to see me. Stevie took a picture of us with the man’s phone so he could show the boy.
And once again proving how cool Stevie is, two very attractive women asked for a picture. They moved in, one on each side, and all I could think about was Tracy telling me not to touch them. I froze, holding my arms out awkwardly as Stevie positioned the phone for the shot.
“Pull them in closer,” she’d instructed. “They don’t bite.”
So I did… draping my arms over their shoulders and drawing them in.
“Say cheese,” Stevie said.
When they left and I was once again pushing the cart, she bumped her hip against mine and proclaimed, “That was cool.”
Yeah… it was.
This is the first time Stevie’s been to my house, so after we deposit the bags on the counter, I give her a tour.
I was super proud when I bought this place three years ago because it represented the height of financial success. A young guy, a few years on the professional hockey scene, and I was able to afford a huge house. Sure, I’d had the sports cars and expensive clothes, but a house was also an investment. It was something I could show off to my parents and Aunt Rory and they’d be proud.
Not that they’re not always proud of the things I do.
The main floor is an open plan with the kitchen, breakfast nook, and living area bleeding into each other. Stevie is way too impressed with the hidden pantry behind custom cabinetry, opening up to reveal another large room with shelves and a long counter complete with a fancy espresso machine.
To the left of the kitchen down a short hall is a game room with a billiard table and a large, screened-in patio complete with firepit, lap pool, and as promised, a hot tub to relax in.
“Look at you with a pool table,” Stevie teases.
I can’t help but be a little smug. “I’m not feeling an ounce of guilt for not letting you know I was good when we made our bet.”
I take her upstairs, giving her a peek inside the three guest rooms and the bonus room I turned into an office.
“An office?” Stevie asks. “I hope this isn’t an insult, but you don’t seem like the office type.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “It’s for my Aunt Rory so she has a place to write.”
I’d told Stevie all about Rory, so she knows she’s an author—quite successful—who writes mysteries. She lives in Columbus, where my family is from, and visits a lot since it’s only a few hours away. I’m assuming I’ll introduce her to Stevie sooner rather than later. I know she’s going to love her and she’ll be vocal about it. She likes to stick her nose in my love life, and like my teammates, she wasn’t shy about sharing her opinion of Tracy.
I lead Stevie down the hall from Rory’s office to the master suite. It’s got way more room than I’d ever need, including a bathroom and walk-in closet that’s almost bigger than the bedroom itself.
My mom and Rory helped decorate my entire house, but this bedroom is all me. The furniture is super modern—all ebony stained with silver hardware—and the décor is minimalist and includes a single piece of art above the cream leather headboard. My mom and Rory hate it, saying it’s cold, but I find it calming.
I joke, but not really, “This will be the room where I’ll fuck you after dinner.”
Stevie chokes as she pokes her head into the bathroom, turning back to look at me.
I lean against the doorjamb, hands in my pockets, and shrug. “What? You know it’s true.”
If I thought I’d enjoy a blush or maybe stammering from her, I’m denied as her smile curves upward, and she saunters to my bed. Placing two hands down on the mattress, she gives a few pushes on it. “Why wait until after dinner?”
That’s all the invitation I need.
I’m across the room and have her locked into a deep kiss, my hands sliding under her sweater and lifting it up. Stevie huffs her exasperation as we have to separate to get it off.
When I toss it to the ground, my eyes land on the nine-ball necklace I gave her. She’d thanked me via text right after she received it with the flowers, and again with a sweet hug when I picked her up a bit ago.
But seeing it against her bare skin gets to me. I reach a finger out, touching it. “I need to get you a hockey puck to go with that.”
Her hand covers mine. “That would complete the story. But how about we finish getting naked?”
There’s a lot of hurried whispers and frantic hands, but eventually, the clothes are gone and I give her a little push back.
And damn… Stevie naked and spread out before me on my bed is just…
I stare at her as she goes to her elbows, not a hint of shyness. I take in the tattoos painted into her pale skin, her pierced nipples, and how at odds it seems with her lack of makeup today. She didn’t say why, but gone is the dramatic eye makeup, and the only thing I can think is this is the first time during the day we’ve hung out. Maybe she only wears the makeup when she works at night or goes out on evening dates.
Regardless, she doesn’t need the makeup at all. Her dark hair and storm-cloud eyes are all she needs to complete the beauty of her face.
Her irises now seem darker, more turbulent as desire swims within. She pulls her lower lip in between her teeth and runs her gaze over my body, giving just as much frank perusal.
Her eyes land on my cock, already hard and ready to sink into her. “You going to do something with that?”
I snort and move her way, putting a knee on the mattress between her legs. “Eventually. Got something else in mind, though.”
“What’s that?” she asks curiously.
I don’t answer with words, instead pulling a condom out of my bedside table drawer and rolling it on.
Pushing her legs apart, I slide my palms up the insides of her silky thighs. Stevie falls back to the bed with a soft moan because she knows my intentions. I told her last time we were together I couldn’t wait to get my mouth between her legs.
Bending over her, I run my lips across her belly, turn my stubbled cheek to drag over her mound, and with only a slight readjustment of my body, I press my mouth hard against her pussy.
Stevie’s strangled cry makes my dick ache, and then her hands are on my head, pulling me harder to her. She rotates her hips, shows me what she wants, and it’s fucking on.
I give it to her with a long lick up her center that elicits a sob of pleasure. Then I give her everything—my teeth, my lips, my fingers. I circle, flutter, and thrust against her clit while pressing a thumb deep inside her, and Jesus fuck… in seconds, she’s unraveling. An orgasm hits her hard, and while she’s still trembling in the throes of her release, I surge up her body.
And slam into her so powerfully, the bed rocks.
“You okay?” I think to ask, my voice strangled with lust.
Stevie nods, gyrates her hips, and slaps her hands to my ass. “I’m good. Fuck me now.”
I do as she asks, thrusting hard and fast. But I do it with my mouth on hers so she can taste her orgasm. Her tongue slides and tangles with mine, but my mind is completely focused on how damn tight and wet she is.
I’ve had a lot of great sex in my life, but there’s something incomparable about Stevie. She’s as beautiful and sexy as any other woman I’ve been with but infinitely more attractive because of her mind and her heart. Definitely more unique and interesting than most people I know.
But what makes me want to pop off inside her right now is that feelings are already involved. A few magical dinners, long conversations about our personal lives—opening up deep wells of pain due to death and abandonment—add in some insane sexual chemistry, and yeah… this is the type of sex that will become addictive, and I’m here for it.
I bottom out in her body, grind my hips hard, and then go still so I can watch her face. Her eyes are closed, face flushed.
Her lids flutter and her gaze locks on mine. I wish I could take a picture of her right now… memorize that look of desire, joy, and tenderness as she stares at me.
It tells me this moment is as special for her as it is for me.
I pull out, almost all the way free before pressing in slowly. I watch the play of emotions across her face that continue to tell me a story.
Stevie’s hand comes to palm my cheek. “You feel so good.”
Christ, that would be an understatement if I voiced the return sentiment. Instead, I turn my face into her hand and press a kiss there before taking it in my own. I push our hands between our bodies, force her fingertips onto her clit, and smile at her. “Want you to come again. With me, okay?”
She nods, determination in her eyes.
Dropping to my elbows, I kiss Stevie as I move within her. Not hard, but a steady pumping of my hips against hers as my tongue fucks her mouth. I can feel her hand moving between our bodies, bringing herself more pleasure along with what I’m giving her.
Stevie’s hips move more insistently against mine, and she moans into my mouth. My own chest heaves with exertion as I try not to come until she’s with me.
It has to be with me.
That’s what this intense, emotional connection demands.
Stevie tears her mouth from mine and gasps, “I’m going to come, Hendrix. Tell me you’re close.”
I thrust faster. “I’m with you,” I say through gritted teeth. “Let yourself fly, baby.”
Her legs wrap around my waist, her fingers move fast between us, and then she’s bucking wildly as she cries out, “Oh… damn, Hendrix. So good… So good.”
Her words set me off as much as the feel of her orgasm rippling around my cock. My own release turns nuclear in its destruction of my senses. I slam into Stevie’s body, wrap my arms around her, and bury my face in her neck. I come with a ferocity I’ve not felt before, and it’s terrifying and beautiful all at the same time.
I’m starved for air, gasping as my hips buck against hers. “Stevie,” I groan hoarsely. “Goddamn. Please don’t ever let this stop.”
“It won’t,” she vows. Her fingers dive into my hair, and she gyrates her continued ecstasy against me.
It seems to take forever for the pulses of pleasure to quiet. I collapse onto her body, holding a good deal of my weight off her but not sure how much longer I can do it. I’m utterly depleted.
Stevie lets out a long sigh, and I lift up to look down at her. Her smile is gentle as she presses her palms to my chest. “I can’t believe I just met you a week ago. How am I in your bed having just had back-to-back orgasms that might have broken me?”
“Because you’re a loose hussy?” I ask with a grin.
She grins back, and there… that right there. That we can joke like that and she knows I’m teasing. “Okay, Grandpa… pretty sure the term hussy went out in the forties.”
But I’m also taking her question seriously. I bend down, brush my lips against hers. “I’ve been trying to reason out this connection myself.”
“It’s not normal, right?”
“I’ve never experienced it.”
Her fingertips play with the ends of my hair at my neck. “Not even with Tracy?”
It’s the first time she’s brought Tracy up as a comparison, but before I can reassure her, her hand covers my mouth and she shakes her head. “No. Don’t answer that. That was a stupid, trite question for me to even ask.”
I lightly bite her palm, causing her to jerk away. “I won’t answer the question, but I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve never talked about Rachel or the plane crash with any woman I’ve dated.”
Stevie’s eyes flare, then go tender. “Really? Because I’ve never talked to anyone about my mom, other than Harlow. I don’t even talk to my dad about her because I don’t want to hurt his feelings that I have…”
Her words trail off, but I take a guess. “Feelings for her? It’s all right to love her, you know.”
“See… I don’t know if I do.” Her forehead wrinkles in consternation, gaze drifting off a second. When it comes back to me, she says, “I started writing in a diary… journaling… when I was young. It was suggested by a therapist my dad sent me to as a way for me to process my feelings about my mom, by writing them on paper. Over the course of my life, I’ve continued to journal about her, and if I were to go back and read all my entries, not a single one mentions the word love where she’s concerned.”
“It’s also okay not to love her, but it’s all right to care for her. It’s all right to want more.”
“Not sure my dad agrees with that.”
I kiss her. “Your dad is a good man, I can tell. He might not agree, but he’ll let you figure it out on your own.”
“Yeah,” she says with such deep fondness, her tone is wistful. “I know.”
A thought occurs, and I bend closer. “Am I in that journal of yours?”
Stevie’s face flushes. “Maybe.”
“What did you say about me?”
“None of your business,” she says primly. “It holds my private thoughts.”
Laughing, I bend down for a hard kiss. “You’re entitled. Now, how about we get up and make some dinner? I’m starved. Then hot tub, then I’m going to fuck you again. Sound good?”
“Sounds amazing.”
I rub my nose along hers. “One more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I want you to come to the game tomorrow.”
“I can’t—”
I slam my mouth on hers, shutting off the denial. “I’ve got two tickets already at will call. One for you, one for your dad. I’m going to make him like me. We’ll go out after.”
“I have to work and—”
I kiss her again. “Please.”
“Hendrix, I just can’t—”
One more kiss. “I’m begging.”
Stevie’s eyes warm, and I see the capitulation along with a bit of censure. “You know I have a job, and that includes tending bar.”
“I am by no means making light of your responsibilities, but you are the boss. Is it possible for you to switch to days rather than nights so we can spend them together?”
“I mean… I suppose. My day shift person would love to move to nights as it’s better tips. And I work nights mainly because I’m a night owl.”
“Then switch, not just for me, but for us. Give us a chance since our time together is already cut because of my travel schedule. I’m sorry that puts the burden on you to make the change and I would if my schedule was more flexible, but I want to give this a solid go.”
Stevie’s eyes twinkle. “You just want more consistent sex.”
“Yes. Not going to deny that. But what I really want is more consistent you.”
Slipping her hands behind my head, Stevie brings my mouth down to hers, and it’s not a sweet kiss of assent. It’s a hot kiss with her tongue sliding right into my mouth, stirring my dick. She doesn’t give me the words, but I can tell by the surety in her touch that she’ll commit herself to do what is required so we can take our shot.
Same as me.
