Kissing Micky (Washington Guardians Hockey Book 1)

by Ellen Devlin

  Tom went into the bathroom and closed the door, hearing Zee laugh from the other side.

  “We’re alone.”

  “Oh, good. Start brushing your teeth, sweetheart. I’m gonna move this right along, because even in this little fantasy of mine, it’s late, and you’re tired, and I really, really want to get you off.

  “I was two buttons down with my right hand on your ass. My left hand would come up to open the rest of the buttons on your jeans, and I would reach down inside those cute boxer briefs to cup my hand around your balls.”

  She could hear the water running, the sounds of him brushing his teeth, and the sound of him breathing hard, but beyond that he was just listening, which was exactly what she wanted.

  “I’d spend just a minute or two rolling your balls in my fingers, just because I love that feeling, but then I would shift my hand up where I really want to be, right at the base of your hard cock.”

  Tom made a small sound, and Liz smiled a little, knowing that he was surprised and turned on by her language.

  “I would keep my thumb and forefinger curled snug around the base of your shaft and let my pinky slide up the underside, right to that little indentation under the head, right there, and then back down. And then, because there’s just no time to mess around tonight, I would reach back down with my left hand to play with your balls again, while I let go of your ass with my right hand to bring it around to the front to grip the rock-hard shaft of your cock.”

  He was breathing hard, unable to stop small, sexy sounds escaping through the phone line.

  Her voice was husky. “It feels amazing in my hand, Tom. The skin is like velvet, and it’s so damn hard underneath. I would rub my thumb all over the head of your cock, spreading the slickness there. You know that it would be so slippery already. I’d rub my thumb through all that wet precum, all around.”

  She heard the shower turn on.

  Tom knelt down in the tub with the water at his back, because he didn’t trust his legs to hold him any longer. He was breathing hard, completely lost in this, in what she was saying to him, in what she was doing to him just with her voice.

  “So I would start stroking you, moving my hand along your hard shaft, and I know you’re thinking ‘handjob’ because hey, phone sex. But this is my fantasy, Tom, so I would kneel down in front of you and pull your clothing down far enough to be able to get my tongue to run up the entire length of the underside of your big, hard cock, from the base all the way up to the tip.”

  She heard a soft groan and a gasp for air.

  “And then I would take your cock into my mouth, still holding and stroking your shaft with my right hand, and cupping and rolling your heavy balls with my left hand, and I would swirl my tongue around the head of your cock. Once. Twice. Three times.”

  Another gasp and a whisper, “Shit.”

  “And then I would flatten my tongue against the underside of your shaft and press you against the roof of my mouth, and I would suck.”

  A quiet strangled groan, one of her favorite sounds. He was just on the edge.

  “Hard.”

  She heard him start to come, gasping, trying to stay quiet.

  “And then I would swallow.”

  There was a loud clatter as the phone dropped into the tub. Tom put his left hand on the back wall of the shower stall to keep from falling over as the spasms of his orgasm tore through him one after the other. After a few deep breaths, he picked the phone back up. “Sorry,” he said, his breath ragged and his voice thick.

  “Don’t be,” she said, smiling to herself, still sounding sultry. “I suspect that a dropped phone is the highest form of praise in phone sex. Sweetheart, before you pass out in the bathroom, rinse what needs to be rinsed, dry off, and get in bed.”

  “’Kay,” he said, starting to sound drunk with sleep and sex.

  She heard the shower turn off, shuffling sounds of what she assumed were towels, a minute or two of random noises of doors and lights and fabric, and finally a deep, contented, masculine sigh, followed by steady breathing and a very familiar light snoring.

  She smiled and hung up the phone.

  Chapter Thirty

  Tom opened his eyes the next morning, slightly confused to see the corner of his phone directly in front of his face. He was under the covers sprawled across the bed diagonally, on his stomach, with one arm holding the pillow under his head. He heard Zee head into the bathroom, then say, “Jesus, Mick. What the fuck? Did you go out drinking after I went to bed?”

  Tom closed his eyes again and mumbled, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I see enough of your underwear in the locker room, asshole. I do not need this greeting me in the morning.”

  Something draped over Tom’s face. He snatched it off and sat up. “What the hell, Zee?” he said, throwing the underwear back toward his teammate.

  “They’re yours, man. I’m just giving them back.” Tom was then hit in the face with a pair of jeans, followed by a shirt and some balled-up socks. He started to get up and return fire but stopped very suddenly when he realized he was not currently wearing anything under the covers.

  Zee took one look at his face and said, “Seriously? Commando? Fuck, Mick, you used to be one of the good roommates. It was way too late to go out. Really, dude, were you drunk?”

  “No, man, I was just way more tired than I thought, apparently. I don’t really even remember going to bed.” He ran his hand through his hair. He was definitely starting to remember and was really hoping not to accidentally give that away. What were the odds that Zee would drop this conversation?

  “I crashed and fell asleep right after talking to you. You wouldn’t let me say goodnight to Liz. Then you went into the bathroom, and I passed out.” He got a grin on his face that Tom did not like. “You were on the phone with Liz when you went into the bathroom.” He started to laugh. “Holy shit, Micky!” His laughter was building. “I can’t fucking believe it! Phone sex? I didn’t think you had it in you.” Zee looked at Tom’s face and started laughing even harder. “And Liz? Yeah, okay, never mind…her, I can see, but you?”

  At the mention of Liz, Tom saw red. “Shut the fuck up about her, Zee. Don’t go talking about this. You’ve got no right to say shit about her like that.”

  Zee stopped laughing and squared off. “Really, Mick? Don’t act like you don’t know the stuff people catch shit about. If you’ve never been on the receiving end of something like this, then you’re way overdue. And Liz has been one of my best friends a hell of a lot longer than you have even known her. She knows what goes on. She called you in your hotel room, jackass. It was a calculated risk. If I called her about this right now, she would pretend that she has no idea what I’m talking about, but she would laugh.

  “She would laugh about it, Mick. And she wouldn’t be angry at you, even if you told everyone in the locker room, you fucking asshole. Every guy in the world would be jealous of that. And there are one or two guys on this team who would give their left nut for her to look at them the way she looks at you. So shut the fuck up and quit whining, Nancy.” He stormed out the door.

  Tom sat back against the headboard, stunned by the rebuke.

  ***

  As Tom was eating breakfast, his small hope that Zee had shown restraint was dashed as he heard the offhand comment, “Kids and their sexting these days,” from one of the tables.

  “Hey, Micky, what kind of data plan have you got?”

  “So, Mick, talked to Liz lately?”

  There were only a few comments during breakfast. Things picked up in the locker room during morning skate, and it was getting under Tom’s skin.

  But the stuff Zee had said was worse, because Zee was right. Everything he said had been right on, and Tom was struggling with that on multiple levels. Zee was a much younger guy, so Tom should know better than Zee how to handle himself in the locker room. And yet, experience had shown that Tom had spent most of his career on the fringe of the group, even thoug
h his coaches and captains had repeatedly encouraged him to take on more of a leadership role. Chris had always referred to him as a spiky bastard when it came to locker room banter. With the exception of Chris, he kept his teammates at arm’s length when it came to anything personal.

  He made a conscious, somewhat uncomfortable decision before heading to the rink that afternoon. He would try to ease up, to let the comments roll off his back. Maybe even join in? Fuck, not sure I can go that far.

  The Guards hadn’t been playing badly lately, but they had not been playing as well as they could. This was a really good team, with top talent, but they were playing tight, and their recent wins had been more from exceptional goaltending and a little puck luck than from great on-ice play. They were playing tonight against a top-tier Blackbirds team in Chicago. This could get ugly real fast if they weren’t on top of their game, and they always played better when they were more relaxed.

  The smack talk had started immediately in the locker room, with Zee leading the charge. Tom had known that the game time locker room was going to be the worst and that there would be no holds barred on what was being said about him. Sure enough, there were darts being thrown from all over.

  Tom was just letting things go, not reacting, but then one of the youngest guys, a player who had just been called up from Washington’s AHL affiliate team for the road trip, walked by him and said, “Hey, Micky, I heard your girl is into some really kinky shit.”

  Tom heard Zee say behind him, “Oh, fuck.” It was one thing to say shit about Tom…it was something else entirely to be saying things about Liz, and Zee knew it.

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” Tom responded. He looked up at the young player. “Zee likes to exaggerate things.” He looked over at Zee. “Like size. Or so I hear.” There were a few whoops, and Zee looked briefly shocked that Tom was engaging in banter and not looking to kill someone.

  Zee narrowed his eyes, took a chance, and responded, “Really, Mick? You trying to deny your late-night phone call from your girl?”

  “Nope. Just saying there was nothing kinky involved. Not my style. Or hers.” He looked over at Zee, took a deep breath, stepped way the hell out of his own comfort zone, and said, “Unless you consider phone sex itself to be kinky.”

  Whoops, catcalls, and “Holy shits” rang out. The younger AHL call up who had started the whole thing said, “So, was it good?”

  Tom called over the noise, “Hey, Zee, the kid here wants to know if it was good.”

  Zee laughed and yelled, “He forgot his fucking clothes afterward!”

  Tom looked at the player and said, “I forgot my fucking clothes.” He raised his voice a bit, and said, “It was so fucking good I forgot my fucking clothes.” The locker room exploded with cheering, whistles, foot stomps, and the like.

  Tom stood up and held up his hand, requesting a moment of silence. “If we could please win in regulation tonight, that would be great, because I have to make a phone call as soon as possible after the game.” This was greeted by laughter and even louder cheering.

  Tom sat back down and finished getting ready. He was repeatedly cuffed and slapped on the back and shoved in the shoulder. He got knowing looks from the captain and both assistant captains, and he smiled to himself.

  I’ll be damned.

  ***

  Liz was watching the game at home. The local announcers, who were so much more fun than the national ones because they knew the guys so well, spent quite a bit of time commenting on how much better the team was playing tonight.

  “I don’t know what was said in the locker room, but these guys just came out looking loose and ready to play. They are skating tonight like they’re enjoying themselves.”

  “I agree! And there’s an awful lot of chirping going on. They seem to be trying to get under the skin of the Blackbirds players. It looks like it might be working too.”

  “Yeah, we might just be having a fight or two tonight if Chicago can’t get their guys to settle down and ignore our boys out there.”

  It was a great game, and there were two fights, including one near the end of the third period. Chicago was down and frustrated, and Tom managed to goad a player into starting a fight with him.

  “That was an unusual move for McCullin! Normally we see him going after guys in more of an enforcer role, but he just pestered Wilkins into dropping the mittens and coming after him. They both got the fighting major, but Wilkins also got a two-minute minor for instigating, so the Guards will get a power play here to hopefully put this one away. That was a nice pull for Micky there.”

  “Oh, yeah, check out McCullin, look at the grin on his face! He’s still chirping away, heading off the ice to the locker room. He’s chirping at the whole Blackbirds bench. The Guards are just having fun out there tonight. That’s just great to see. I hope they can keep this up. This is what they’ve been missing for a while now.”

  ***

  The phone rang not too long after the game ended, and she answered it and practically yelled, “That game was awesome! Holy crap, Tom!”

  Cheers and whistles greeted her, and she heard Zee’s voice, not Tom’s. “Hey, Liz!”

  “Oh God, Zee. Do I even want to know why you’ve got Tom’s phone? Are you in the locker room?”

  A few more whistles, a lot of laughter, and one or two calls of “Hi, Liz!” in the background, prompted her to ask, “Am I on speakerphone?”

  “Yes! You’re on speakerphone! In the locker room! Micky is no longer allowed to have private access to his phone…” She started to hear scuffling noises, more laughter, “…because he can’t be trusted with it…” More scuffling, Zee laughing, and the sound of Tom’s deep voice suddenly joining the conversation.

  “…what the fuck are you doing? Is that my phone?” Scuffle, laughter.

  Liz had already started laughing.

  “Seriously, Zee? How old are you? Give me the phone.” The sounds of large guys thudding against equipment, more laughter.

  “You can’t be trusted! No private phone calls for you, Mick. All calls must be public.” Zee sounded like Tom probably had him in a headlock, based on his strangled voice. “Liz, tell Micky you would hate it if he killed me.”

  “Christ, is she on the phone? Are you fucking kidding me?” Tom stopped long enough to realize he could hear Liz laughing through the phone line. “God damn it, Zee.” He was not sure how to deal with this—his immediate instinct was to get royally pissed off, but that would fuck up everything he had been trying to do today. This was getting farther and farther from his comfort zone.

  Why the fuck couldn’t Zee have just left this alone?

  Liz said, “Hey, Tom,” and all the guys said, “Oooooooh, Tooooom,” as if they were, indeed, ten years old. She continued. “Zee, sweetie, give him the phone.”

  “No fucking way. I know what went on last night, Liz. He has lost solo phone privileges.”

  Tom tightened his headlock on Zee and closed his eyes, considering for a moment whether someone was going to have to physically remove him from the locker room to keep him from causing actual injury to the other player.

  Liz was caught off guard, not prepared for this turn in the conversation. Recovering quickly, she said sweetly, “I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Zee. But what I am sure is—I have known you for a really long time, and I have enough dirt on you to bury you up to your neck. So hand the phone to Tom, please. Thank you!” She said the last words brightly, as if there was no doubt he would comply with her request.

  The other guys in the locker room laughed and cheered at her victory as Zee handed the phone to Tom. He released Zee and took the phone off speaker. “Hey.”

  “Are you okay? That game was all kinds of amazing, and you were awesome, but I’m getting the feeling there’s an awful lot going on behind the scenes right now.”

  “Are you angry?”

  She paused. “At what? What happened?”

  Tom moved toward the side of the
room to get a little privacy. “Zee figured out what went on last night. And told the locker room.”

  She snorted a little. “No, I’m not mad. I am curious, though. What do you mean, ‘figured out?’”

  “Are you laughing?”

  She snorted again. “No.” A giggle snuck through. “Not quite.” Another giggle. “Seriously, how did he figure it out?”

  He started smiling, he couldn’t help himself, and said sheepishly, “I left all my clothes lying in the bathroom and crawled into bed naked.”

  “Holy shit!” She started laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. “Oh my God, I’m sorry.” She started laughing again. “I’m sure that wasn’t funny for you, but holy shit!” More laughter. Tom started walking back to the group of guys. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said between gasps of air, “is it bad that part of me is really fucking proud of myself?”

  That was enough to make Tom laugh out loud. “I’ll call you later.” He looked around, raised his voice exaggeratedly, and said, “When I’m alone.” This earned him more laughter and cheers from the other players. “Oh,” he said to Liz, lowering his voice again, “I’m going to be buying button-fly jeans before I get home. Several pairs.”

  After he disconnected, he looked at Zee and said, “You win. She’s laughing so hard she might have some sort of aneurysm.”

  Zee smiled and hit him on the shoulder on his way to the showers.

  “You win, man. She’s your girl.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The win in Chicago was a big one for the Guards, and they were riding pretty high. They were staying overnight rather than rolling out immediately, so guys from the team were congregating at the hotel bar to celebrate.

  Tom would normally skip this but joined the group, hanging out with Chris and a few of the other, older players, watching the younger guys acting ridiculous. It always seemed amazing to him that there were a few guys on the team who still weren’t old enough to drink.