RoPlaying: You’re a good friend.
I’ve read her message no less than fifty times since she sent it earlier.
I’m not a good friend. In fact, I’m the worst fucking friend ever. I’m lying to her. Hell, I’ve been lying to her for months, in more ways than one.
A good friend wouldn’t do that. A good friend would be honest. They would walk up to her and say, Hey, I like watching your streams. I’m proud of you. A good friend would definitely not reach for his cock in the shower, thinking about the lacy top his friend was wearing during her last stream.
But that’s exactly what I fucking did not even an hour ago as I was getting ready for this stupid party. I felt awful afterward and promised myself I’d never do it again, but seeing Rosie stand just a hundred feet away from me completely decked out in her RoPlaying ensemble, I know that’s a promise I’m not going to be able to keep.
She looks incredible. Her tits are pushed up high, threatening to spill over the top of her lacy bustier with every move she makes. And that fucking slit in her skirt? The one practically painted onto her body? I want to rip it off and do very, very naughty things to her.
It’s taking everything I have not to cross the room, grab her hand, and haul her away.
She’s laughing at something Greer says, then I watch as he grabs his girlfriend by the waist and pulls her away from the rest of the group.
“Fitz!” she calls out to me. “Rosie’s here. She wants to bang you.”
“Holy fucking shit. Shut up, Stevie.”
“What?” She shrugs. “He totally wants to bang her too. They just need to do it already.”
“Fucking Christ,” Greer mutters. He looks over at me and shakes his head. “Ignore her. She’s—”
“Plastered? I can tell.”
He grins, then drops his head closer. “But really, she isn’t lying. Rosie is totally into you, and I don’t think it would be such a bad thing to see where that goes.”
I pull back, surprised this is coming from a guy who just earlier this year swore up and down he’d never, ever fall in love.
He shrugs. “I’m a changed man,” he says like he can read my mind. “Besides, being in love is fun.”
“Your girlfriend is drunk off her ass, and it’s barely nine.”
“Yeah, but she’s cute when she’s like this. Besides, between you and me, you could really loosen up out there on the ice. You’re tight.”
“I already have five goals this season.”
“Right, but you could have ten.”
I shake my head. “I’m not doing that. I’m not going to try to get into Rosie’s pants because I think it will help me play better hockey.”
“Then don’t, but at least try to get into her pants because you really fucking want to and this damn dance you two idiots have been doing is getting tiresome to watch. She’s clearly into you.”
I peek over at where she’s still standing, talking to everyone else. She’s wearing her pink wig and mask, and I want to march over and pull them both off so I can see the real her.
I like Rosie. I’ve liked her for a while now, long before I even knew about her streaming. Never thought I had a chance in hell, but now…
“You think?”
“Dude, I know. Just trust me on this.”
Stevie drops her head to Greer’s shoulder. “Jacob…” She moans his name, and I have a feeling the rest of Greer’s night is going to be spent sitting up with her in the bathroom.
He sighs, but it’s one of those sighs that comes out sounding sweet.
“I need to get her upstairs. Just…” He looks over his shoulder at the baker, then back at me. “Don’t fuck it up, man. I really fucking love those donuts.”
“Hey! I’ll make your donuts. You don’t have to pimp Fitz out for donuts. I can make them just as good as—oh, who am I kidding? I hate making donuts. I’m awful at my job.”
I chuckle at Stevie’s drunken rambling. “Go take care of her.”
Greer hauls his girlfriend into his arms, then carries her up the stairs. I’m about to move from my spot when something catches my eye.
Rosie.
She’s looking over. No—scratch that. She’s looking at me.
Her green gaze is locked on to me, and I couldn’t walk away if I tried, not when she’s practically staring into my soul like she’s searching for all of my deepest, darkest secrets.
Does she know what I did an hour ago? Does she know I had my hand wrapped around my cock as I thought of her? Does she know at all what she does to me? The power she holds? The power I want her to hold?
I don’t think she does because if she did, we wouldn’t be having this staring contest we’re participating in. We’d be upstairs in one of the unoccupied rooms, and I’d be showing her the effect she has on me, showing her how badly my cock is aching inside these tight slacks.
I need to move before I do something crazy like march over and pull her into my arms. When someone passes by, I use it as my opportunity to slip into the party, then I make my way to the great room.
In an effort to cool down, I lean my forehead against the glass of the giant window that overlooks the sprawling backyard. I have no clue how Lowell finds these places, but it’s the perfect mixture of seclusion so we can all have fun while still being elegant.
I take a few deep breaths, trying to talk my dick back down and regain a sense of control. It’s a futile attempt, especially when I feel the moment she walks into the room.
I focus my eyes on the reflection in the window and watch—always fucking watching—as she scans the crowded space. I already know it’s me she’s looking for, so when her eyes land on me, I’m not surprised by the small smile that plays at the corners of her lips.
She saunters into the room. That slit that’s already too fucking high moves with her, inching up and up until it’s touching dangerous territory…territory I don’t want anyone else to see.
I spin around and stuff both hands into my pockets, telling myself it’s for her own good, and let a slow smile spread across my face. Unable to stop myself, I take a step toward her, and my favorite scent in the entire world hits my senses.
Strawberries.
Another step.
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t try to stop me. It’s like we’re the only two in the room, and fuck how I wish that were true.
When there’s barely any space left between us, just enough so we’re not touching because I know I’m a fucking goner if I touch her, I lean down so she can hear me and say, “Evening, Ro.”
The hitch in her breath is clear, and I love how it sounds.
“Fitz,” she whispers.
I step back, letting my eyes roam as if I haven’t already memorized every single thing about her. “You look incredible.”
Color creeps into her cheeks, her jade eyes sparking with delight at my words. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself. Who are you supposed to be?”
“A guy who put his costume together at the last minute.”
She laughs. “I like your mask.”
Thanks. I picked it because it reminded me of yours. But I don’t say that.
“It’s Venetian.”
No shit, you idiot.
She smirks. “You don’t say.”
Feeling the heat spreading across my cheeks, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind: “Did you see Wright’s ass?”
She blinks twice, then a loud laugh tumbles out of her. “Unfortunately, I did. Actually, who am I kidding? It’s a great ass. Nothing unfortunate about it.”
The overwhelming urge to find Wright and tell him to cover his shit up hits me, and I have to physically pinch myself to keep from doing just that.
“I think Greer as Olaf might be a favorite, though,” she says with a smirk.
“I offered to give him a warm hug and he punched me.”
“That sounds exactly like Greer. Between everyone teasing him about it and Stevie being hammered, he’s in for a long, long night.”
“Good. Serves the asshole right.”
“Poor Stevie.”
“Brave Stevie.”
Rosie laughs. “You got that right. I’m not sure how she puts up with his gruffness, but she’s totally into it. In fact, she told me they’re off to play a game of find the carrot.”
I shake my head. “She’s had a bit too much to drink. Speaking of…can I get you something? A vodka soda?”
“You know, I said I was done drinking, but I think I could use one right about now.”
You’re telling me.
I place my hand on the small of her back, steering her toward the bartender in the corner. Lowell always goes all out with these things, and there are about six different bars set up around the house.
I order myself a beer and a vodka soda for Rosie.
“You remembered,” she remarks.
Of course I did. I remember everything about you.
The bartender slides our drinks over to us, and we step to the side.
“So, how’s Carl doing?” she asks before I can say anything stupid like what I just thought. “Has she trapped herself in the pantry lately?”
“Worse—she snuck out again when I was bringing in the groceries, darted right down the hall to my neighbor, Miss Drake’s, apartment.”
“Aw. Does your neighbor not like Carl?”
“Oh, she loves Carl. The problem is my neighbor also loves walking around her apartment in the nude. So, when I went to retrieve my shithead cat…”
“You got to see granny in the buff?” She winces.
“Unfortunately. And unlike with Wright, I very much mean unfortunately.”
Rosie laughs, then taps my cheek a few times with her palm. “You poor thing, you. Are you traumatized? Do I need to kiss you to make you forget all about Miss Drake and her hot bod?” Her eyes widen when she realizes what she’s just said, and she slaps her hand over her mouth. “Oh my god. Pretend I didn’t just say that,” she mutters through her fingers.
I don’t want to pretend she didn’t say that, and I really don’t want to pretend I don’t want her to follow through. Before I think too much about it, I step into her, not missing when she swallows roughly.
“And what if I want you to kiss me?”
Several seconds pass. Too fucking many seconds, in fact.
We stand there so damn long just staring at one another that I’m pretty sure I just completely overstepped and messed everything up.
But then, Rosie runs her tongue over her lips and says, “Hey, Fitz?”
I swallow the lump that’s stuck in my throat. “Yeah?”
“Do you want to get out of here?”
I don’t think. I act.
I grab her by the waist and pull her to my side, marching us both through the party and up the stairs. I open the first door I find.
A bathroom. It will have to do, because there is no way I can wait another second to feel her mouth on mine. I tug her inside, then close the door behind her, pressing her back against the wood.
She gasps when I press myself flush with her body, and I have no doubt it’s because she can feel how fucking hard I am. I want this. I want her. In fact, I can’t remember a time when I wanted anything more, when I’ve craved something so damn badly. Maybe when I was in a Game Seven final? I don’t know, but it felt different than this. This feels…like more.
I peer into her eyes, the beautiful green ones that are wide and full of so many questions, yet also so much lust. I run my thumb over her cheek, savoring this moment…this heated look in her eyes. She’s gorgeous, her cheeks tinged with a bit of pink, lips parted as her chest heaves heavily against me.
She wants this as much as I do.
I have no clue who moves toward who first. All I know is the moment her lips touch mine, I’m absolutely fucking done for. Her mouth is soft and sweet like she might have snuck a piece of candy or two before coming to find me.
She moans when I brush my tongue along the seam of her lips, and they open effortlessly. Her hands twist into my hair, finding the tie on my mask and tugging it free. We break just long enough for me to take it off and set it aside.
“God, I’ve been dying to touch you,” I whisper against her lips, running my palms over her hips, feeling every fucking delicious inch of her. It’s heaven and sin all at once, and at this moment, I’m totally okay with going to hell for this.
“I’ve been dying for you to touch me,” she says back as her lips ghost over my chin. She nips along my jawline until she hits my ear, then she sucks the lobe between her teeth and bites me just hard enough for it to sting, and I fucking welcome it.
My grasp on her tightens, tugging her close, begging her to keep going, and she does. She bites at me gently, then runs her tongue over each and every place she’s just sunk her teeth into. I groan when she hits that spot just below my ear, and she doesn’t miss it.
“Ro…you smell like strawberries.” I nuzzle my nose against her neck. “I fucking love strawberries.”
“I know.” She kisses me again. “They’re your favorite.”
“You’re my favorite.”
She grins against me as I capture her mouth in another kiss, plunging my tongue inside. She kisses me back with fervor, pulling on my suit jacket and yanking me closer. I reach down and bunch her skirt in my fists, lifting it high enough for me to press a knee between her legs, thankful as hell for the high slit that gives me more room to work with.
She groans the second she makes contact with my thigh and begins rocking against me, trying to find the angle that works best for her. I drag my hands back up her body, loving how soft she is beneath my palms, and I don’t stop until my fingers are at the top of the lacy dark purple bustier she’s wearing. Only then do I break the kiss.
I search her eyes in a silent question. Can I?
She nods, then watches as my fingers work to unhook the lacy material. My mouth fucking waters like a teen seeing boobs for the first time the minute she spills out of her top. Her tits are big, definitely more than a handful, and her nipples are the exact shade of her rosy lips. I want to kiss them just as badly as I want to kiss her.
“Fitz…” she pleads, likely tired of me just standing here looking at her like the angel she is and wanting me to touch her. “Please.”
I can’t deny her what she wants, not when her voice comes out as nothing but a strain.
I capture a nipple between my lips, sucking the sweet bud into my mouth. She groans and shifts her hips against me harder…faster. I take my time tasting her, learning what she likes and what she doesn’t. Based on the way she slips her hands into my hair and holds me to her when I use my teeth to tease her, she really likes that.
“I need…” I hear her say, and I pull away, understanding exactly what it is she needs.
I drag her by the waist, setting her in front of the mirror as I take my place behind her.
“I want to watch you finger your cunt, Rosie,” I say against her ear. “Can you do that for me?”
She gulps loudly and nods. “Yes.”
“Good. Very good. Take your panties off and put them in my pocket.”
She bends, making sure to press her ass against me, and grabs them. When she straightens, she slides them into the pocket of my pants, knowing exactly what she’s doing when she brushes her knuckles against my cock, which is rock hard inside my slacks. I hiss at the contact, and she smirks.
“Evil,” I mutter, and she laughs.
She rests her back against me and spreads her legs as I bunch her long skirt up in my hands, pulling it up until her pussy is exposed. Her thighs are thick just like the rest of her and rub together.
I bet they’d feel incredible wrapped around my head.
I intend to find out, but not tonight. Tonight, I want to watch.
I hold the material and watch as she slides her hands down her body, something I’ve seen her do countless times on her streams. She’s taunting me, and I love every single minute of it. My mouth is literally watering with anticipation as she takes her time getting to where I want her. It’s like she knows I need this buildup.
She runs her fingertips over every curve and dip until she gets to her mound, which is neatly trimmed. Only then does she slip two fingers between her legs, parting her pussy and giving me my first glimpse of her.
Fucking shit.
She’s wet and pink and absolutely fucking everything I thought she should be.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, not caring when my voice comes out all scratchy. “Fucking perfect.”
A sickly-sweet grin curves her lips, then she slides her fingers over her clit, not taking her eyes off me as she plunges two fingers inside.
“Oh god,” she mutters as she begins to fuck herself, grinding down on her hand and using her palm to stimulate her clit.
It’s perfect. She’s perfect.
I tell her just that, and she sighs at my words.
I lift my eyes from what she’s doing between her legs to look at her face, and I’m surprised when I find her staring right at me in the mirror. She’s not watching herself. She’s watching me watch her, and I swear it spurs her on even more.
My knuckles are pure white at this point and there’s no way it won’t be obvious her skirt was in my hands with how wrinkly it will be, but I don’t care. Not when I have this fucking goddess in front of me. Not when her panting picks up and her chest begins to move rapidly. She’s close, and I want nothing more than to watch her fall apart.
“Get yourself there, Ro. I want to see what it looks like when your cunt is squeezing your fingers.”
My words motivate her, and with just a few strokes, she’s detonating before my eyes, her body going rigid, her lips parting, but that’s not what gets me. That’s not what sends me completely over the edge.
No.
It’s my name tumbling from her lips as she rides out her orgasm.
“Ivan.”
I’m ashamed of what happens next. It’s something I can’t control, something that’s never happened before.
I come in my fucking pants.
Like some teen who can’t control themselves, I fall apart right along with her, pressing myself against her as waves of pleasure crash over me.
The second I’ve regained my breath, I spin her in my arms and crash my mouth to hers, desperate to taste her again. She groans against me, tugging me closer until I’m not sure where I end and she begins. I kiss her lips, up her jaw to her ear, going as far as I can until her mask gets in the way. I slip my hands into her hair, searching for the tie, never taking my lips from her body.
“I always wondered what it would feel like to peel this off you,” I mutter against her when my fingers finally find the end of the string.
She goes limp in my arms, and I feel it instantly. I pull back to search her eyes, worried I’ve done something to hurt her.
“Is every—”
“What did you just say?” she asks sharply, those green eyes I love so much darting back and forth between my own hazel ones.
“I said, I always…”
The rest of the words die on my lips because I know. I fucking know.
I messed up. No, I more than messed up. I wrecked this. Completely fucking ruined it. Obliterated any chance we had.
She shoves at me, and I stumble backward, letting her push me out of the way; I deserve it. She crashes her hands through her hair, ripping her mask off, letting me see all of her for the first time tonight.
“Do you…” She sucks in a deep breath. “Fitz, do you watch me?”
I could lie. I could make something up, could find a way out of this.
But I have no fight in me. So, I tell her the truth.
“Yes.”
Her jaw drops, but no words come out of her mouth. She shakes her head a few times. She appears disgusted with me, like she can’t believe the person she’s looking at.
I take a step toward her. “Listen, I—”
“How long?” she interrupts, holding her hands up to stop me.
“Excuse me?”
“How long? How long have you been watching me?” I hate the emphasis she puts on the word, like she’s completely revolted by the idea even though she’s the one who gets paid to be watched. “How long have you known?”
I gulp. “A few months.”
“Months? Months, Fitz?!” I hate the way my last name drops off her tongue, especially now that I know what it’s like to hear her speak my first name.
She gasps, her hand going to her chest, and I know what she’s going to say next.
“You’re ShootsAndScores.”
I say nothing. I don’t confirm it, but I don’t deny it either, and that’s enough for her.
She scoffs, shoving her skirt back down into place and pulling her top back up, covering those very tits I just had in my mouth, the ones I know taste so damn sweet.
She grabs the door handle, shooting me a glare. “You’re nothing like I thought you were, Fitz.”
Then she’s gone, disappearing right out the door before I can stop her.
Everything I ever wanted flashes before my eyes, then shatters like someone just shot a hundred-mile-per-hour puck right at it, everything inside me breaking right along with it.
I need to fix this. I have to fix this. She can’t leave.
I yank the door open, praying and hoping she’s not gone. I spot her at the end of the hallway, one foot already on the top stair, ready to flee.
“Ro!”
She pauses, then looks back at me. “Don’t ever call me that again.” She spins on her heel and leaves…taking every bit of my heart along with her.
I am so completely fucked.
