by S. R. Grey
This is it; this is for real. There will be no going back from here.
I lift up my hips, allowing his heavy shaft to stroke me. From the feel of it, it’s clear he’s put on a condom.
Hmm, he must have taken care of that while I was in my state of melty bliss.
“This is why I know you won’t pass out,” Brent says, snapping me back to the here and now as he moves his hips slowly, pushing in, giving me the tip. Even with just that, I feel stretched and opened, in the best sort of way.
“You’re right,” I breathe out. “I won’t pass out. I wouldn’t want to miss a second of this.”
He circles his hips, filling me more completely. “No, you sure don’t,” he replies.
I pause, raise a brow. “Cocky much?”
Chuckling, he says. “You’re about to find out I have every right to feel that way.”
I push at his hard chest, but he’s not going anywhere. Not that I want him to. “You’re so smug,” I say.
“Let me show you why,” he whispers in my ear.
And then he shows me, with one smooth, fluid thrust.
Brent Oliver then gets down to fucking me. And holy hell! I find out real fast he has every right to be so damn smug. For the record, the real man is so much better than Brent 51. Who needs pulsating vibrating action when you’ve got real-life variable action? That’s right—Brent can fuck hard, and he can fuck fast. But he can also give it to you slowly and sweetly.
And that’s what he does, he gives me everything.
At one point, he pulls out almost all the way and then hesitates so I can feel him stretching me, filling me once more. “Ooh, I really like that,” I murmur.
He kisses up my neck. “Do you like this too?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You want me to kiss you and fuck you like this for the next half hour?”
I let out a little laugh. “You’ll never make it that long. This is our first time together, and the sex is just way too hot.”
“It is pretty hot,” he agrees, pulling out all the way.
I whimper at the loss.
“I can do it, though,” he assures me as he s-l-o-w-l-y slides back in, making me sigh. “I like a good challenge. And when we’re done we can take a break, and then start back up all over again.”
“Oh God, Brent, what are you trying to do to me?”
He stops, buried deep inside me. Our eyes meet and he says, “Maybe I’m trying to make you fall for me?”
What if I already have?
Bliss
Nothing matters in her bedroom. It’s just me and her, one woman and one man, and everything stretching before us of what we could be.
Do I love Aubrey?
I don’t know, but I think I could if I let myself.
And I want to do exactly that. Fuck the rules. Love breaks them all the time, anyway, right?
I make it the thirty minutes I promised her, and then some. While we rest in her bed afterward—me playing absently with her shiny hair, and her with her cheek pressed to my chest—I think about how we got to this point.
“I sure am glad I was so insanely jealous over Al,” I muse out loud.
I feel her lips turn up into a smile against my skin. “I can’t believe you thought my sister and I kept a man at my house that we shared for sex. That’s just gross, Brent.”
I smack her bare ass, to which she lets out a little yelp. “You are a little wild in the sack,” I say. “So it could’ve been true.”
She reaches down and pinches my thigh. “Ow,” I mutter. “That hurts.”
“This, from the big, bad hockey player,” she says.
“Ha-ha.”
“Anyway,” she goes on, “it serves you right. I’d never divide up my time with a guy with Lainey. I don’t like sharing.” She peers up at me meaningfully with those sea-green eyes.
I would normally feel indignant. Like, you don’t own me. I’ll do whatever the hell I want. But that was the old me. I haven’t felt the urge to touch another woman since Aubrey entered my life. Why would anything change now that we’ve had sex?
I smooth her messy hair away from her face and assure her, “You have nothing to worry about with me.”
“What about all your other women?”
“What other women?” I snort.
“Oh, let’s see.” She ticks off the following: “There are puck bunnies, ladies at the strip clubs, regular booty calls.”
“First off, the women at the strip clubs are generally not ladies. Plus, that’s more Nolan’s scene. As for puck bunnies, I haven’t touched one of them in ages, not since the summer. You know that.”
“You didn’t address the regular booty calls,” she reminds me.
“I’m hoping you’ll become that,” I say.
She bites her lip.
“What’s wrong?”
“Is that all we are?”
I raise a brow. “Do you want more?”
I want us to become a couple, but this is her call. Her ass is more on the line than mine if this relationship is discovered. That means if she does want this, we’ll need to keep it on the strictest down-low.
“Aubrey?” I prompt when there’s no answer forthcoming.
“Yes,” she blurts out. “I guess we are more than friends now, right? I mean, after what just occurred.” She gestures to the rumpled sheets we’re lying on, to our naked bodies, limbs entwined.
But, wait. Does this mean she doesn’t want more? Maybe all she wanted all along was some cock. And we now know she could never get that from Al the Cockless Alligator.
Bristling—I don’t like feeling used, not by her—I say, “Us fucking doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, Aubrey.”
Sitting up abruptly, she wraps the sheet around her body. “What we did felt like more than some random fuck, Brent.”
I sit up next to her and fold my arms across my chest. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. Was it? For you, I mean.”
Her eyes search mine, and when she sees what I guess she needs from me, she says, “Yes. And I think it was for you too.”
“It was,” I admit.
Shit, feeling vulnerable sucks. But I better get used to it if we’re hitting relationship territory here. I haven’t had one of those since juniors, so this should be interesting.
I’m all set to travel down this new road of emotional intimacy, but then I notice Aubrey is staring at my dick.
I reach down and stroke it a little to give it some life. “See something you like?” I ask.
She leans in closer, her face right above my junk. It’s a good look for her.
“I’m just looking for the tattoo,” she says. “The fifty-one. Where is it?”
“Clearly not on my cock,” I reply, amused.
“You said it was there, though.”
She continues to hover over my dick, and well, he and I both like that. Aubrey’s mouth that close gets us all excited, making me spring to full mast.
“I never said that,” I say, at last. “I just implied it. Remember, I told you you’d have to find out for yourself.”
Shaking her head, and making her soft hair stroke my shaft in an enticing way, she says, “You’re such an ass, Brent.”
Funny how, despite her supposed irritation with me, she can’t keep her eyes off my erection. But she asked about my tattoo, so that’s what I plan to show her. We can get to more sexing after that.
I move the edge of the sheet that’s covering my right hip. Nodding down to a small inked 51, I say, “My tattoo is over here, sweetheart.”
“Oh? Ohhh, okay.”
Aubrey lies down on my leg, her tits smooshing into my thigh as she frames her hands around the number. “I like it,” she says. “It looks good in that spot. Subtle, but sexy.”
“If you really want to see sexy, you should check things out a little to your right,” I encourage.
Aubrey feigns nonchalance, but she knows what I’m gunning for. Thankfully, she doesn’t tortu
re me for long. Within a minute, she’s wrapping her hand around my hard cock and smiling up at me. “Is this what you want?”
I was kind of hoping for a blow job, but her soft little hand feels pretty damn good. “Uh-huh,” I murmur.
She then asks, “Do you like how I play with this huge thing?”
What I do like is how she keeps referring to my cock as huge. A little positive reinforcement never hurt anyone, right?
She pumps once, twice. Shit, that feels good. “Yeah, don’t stop,” I murmur.
She doesn’t stop, and I lie back, resting an arm over my eyes. I’m all set for this hand action, but then I feel her mouth closing around me.
I look down and… “Fuuuck.”
Aubrey proceeds to work my shaft like a pro. I don’t think I want to know how she got so good at this. Maybe she’s a natural, like me with hockey. Or maybe she practiced a lot on cucumbers or something. After all, we all know how much she likes green—
“Holy hell, where’d you learn that,” I blurt out when she does some swirly thing with her tongue.
She doesn’t answer, and I don’t want her to. I want her to keep sucking and licking and swirling and… “Shit, babe, I’m gonna come.”
I nudge her head to warn her that the inevitable is about to happen, right in her mouth if she doesn’t move. Nonetheless, she keeps on keeping on, and next thing I know I explode down her throat.
“I wanted you to do that,” she informs me once she swallows.
“Shit, woman, I think it’s my turn to pass out,” I mutter.
We rest for a while, lying in each other’s arms. God, I could get used to this. I doze off for a bit, but then she wakes me when I feel her moving around.
When I open my eyes, I’m afforded a hot view of Aubrey ripping open a condom wrapper with her freaking teeth. What a glorious sight. Guess she found the other Trojan I had in my wallet.
I didn’t realize I was hard again, but hell, since I’m ready I help Aubrey roll the latex down my shaft.
Positioning her hot little self above me, she says, “Think of this as the second period of a hockey game.”
“What was the blow job?” I ask.
“Intermission. Like when they’re out Zamboni-ing the ice.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I will forever now think of blow jobs as ‘Zamboni-ing the ice.’”
“As long as they’re only from me, that’s fine,” she tells me.
“I only want them from you,” I quietly admit. “And for the record, I want only you in every other way too.”
She leans down and kisses me. “I feel the same way, Brent.”
“Enough talk.” Grabbing her ass, I shove her down on my hard shaft.
Fuck, I need to be inside her as much, and as often, as I can.
She gasps when I grab hold of her hair. But when I start pulling back her head, I worry it’s too much. Better rein it in.
Releasing her, I ask, “Was that too aggressive? Pulling on your hair like that?”
“Hell no,” she breathes out as she slides up along my length. She lowers back down slowly. “I might call you for ‘roughing,’ though,” she gasps, circling her hips. “But it’s only ’cause I want you to spend as much time as possible in the ‘box.’”
Shit, I need to fist-bump Benny next time I see him. I love it more than ever that he’s taught Aubrey enough hockey terms that she can incorporate them into something hot as hell.
I grab onto her hair again and warn her this time to, “Hold the fuck on, sweetheart.”
DPMB
Over the next couple weeks, I discover that dating Brent is really fun. It’s even more fun since it’s on the sly. He’s so damn good at sneaking around. But the one place we can be ourselves is at his house in Las Vegas.
The day we get back from Chicago he reduces the hours of his housekeeper and fires his cook.
“I didn’t like his crappy cooking anyway,” he tells me in the kitchen.
We then do it on the counter next to the stove.
I move a bunch of my things over from my bedroom to Brent’s room, and I sleep there every night. We’re in the midst of a home game stint, with a few days off in between, so I have ample opportunity to get comfortable with our new living arrangement. I also get quite comfortable with having sex all the time.
Brent’s kind of insatiable, but you won’t hear me complaining.
Still, it’s not all sex and bedroom times with him. He and I take walks around his property at night, talking and making out under the stars. We also play pool in his basement, and some evenings we simply pop popcorn and watch movies in the living room.
He introduces me to Slapshot, a classic hockey flick according to him.
I search around for a hockey-themed movie and come up with The Cutting Edge. I’m excited when I hear he’s never seen it.
“Hmm, I don’t know about this one,” he muses as he reads the summary on the back of the DVD box.
I curl up with him on the sofa. “Oh, come on now. Give it a chance.”
When we cue up the movie and hit Play, it starts out promising enough. Hockey at the Olympics, that’s a plus, right?
“See,” I say. “I told you this would be good.”
Brent isn’t so sure. “We’ll see about that. If this is a total chick flick, Aubrey, I swear I’ll—”
“What?” I taunt, peering up at him. “What will you do to me if it is a total chick flick?”
Looking down at me with lust in his gaze, he murmurs, “Hmm, well, I guess I’ll need to think of a suitable punishment.”
It’s then I remember the Double Penetrator Mega Blaster. Am I brave enough to show it to him? It’d certainly be punishing, in a possibly good kind of way. Wow, seems I’m up for anything if it involves Brent. Since I trust he’ll go easy on me if we do put it into play, I start hoping and praying this movie is this chickiest chick flick ever.
A few more minutes and I’m pretty sure my wish is about to come true, seeing as the lead male character, the hockey player, is hurt and considering taking up doubles figure skating.
“What the fuck is this shit?” Brent blurts out, complete with an I-knew-this-would-suck groan.
“You promised you’d watch the whole thing,” I remind him, snickering when I think of the DPMB and how surprised he’ll be when I show it to him. “Besides,” I go on, “I didn’t get half the jokes in Slapshot, but I stuck it out till the end.”
That earns me a disappointed shake of the head. “I’m going to pretend I did not just hear you diss a classic hockey movie.”
“I did, though, Brent. I totally did. That’s bad, huh?”
“Sure is.” And then he wants to know, “What are you up to, Aubrey?”
“Hmm”—I wink over at him—“I’m just thinking maybe you can add to that ever-growing list of things you’re going to need to punish me for.”
He raises a brow. “It sounds like you actually want to be punished.”
“Maybe I do. But only by you.”
Chuckling and pulling me in closer to him, he murmurs, “You’re in rare form tonight, babe.”
Distracted by what’s on the TV screen, I point to a scene and say, “Oh look, the hockey player dude’s going back home to tell his family what he’s been up to.”
“Poor bastard.” Brent laughs. “I’m sure they’re going to be oh-so proud.”
“You’re such a downer.”
“Just watch,” he says. “I bet I’m right.”
He is right—the lead male character receives a less-than-warm reception from his hometown hockey-loving peeps. But oddly enough, as the movie plays on Brent starts really getting into it.
I knew he was a romantic at heart.
Still, he remembers my transgressions of the night, and when we reach the bedroom I’m ordered to disrobe and, “Assume the position.”
With my hands on the bed and my ass in the air, Brent comes up behind me. “You were very naughty tonight, Aubrey.”
He leans over m
e and deposits a flurry of soft little kisses down my bare back, making me shiver with the anticipation of what’s to come. It won’t be soft and little, like the kisses, that’s for sure.
“Making me watch a total chick flick—”
“You loved it,” I interject.
Whack! He smacks me on the right butt cheek. “Did I say you could talk?”
I yelp and shake my head.
“That’s right.” He gathers my hair and yanks back my head. “Now what should I do to you first?”
Leaning farther over my back, engulfing me, he trails his nose down the side of my neck. It’s like he’s inhaling me, making me his. Damn, I love being dominated by this über alpha male. He’s so sweet to me these days outside of the bedroom that I kind of need him a little rough in here.
I’m putty in his hands already by the time he reaches down to stroke my clit. “Oh, Aubrey,” he rasps in my ear. “So wet for me already?”
“Always,” I say, since it’s true.
That earns me a yank on the hair and a finger rammed up my pussy. “Talking out of turn again, eh?”
I rock back against his hand and he adds another finger. “You like this, don’t you?”
Assuming that’s my cue to speak, I mutter a low and throaty, “Uh-huh.”
Brent fingers me till I spasm around him. “Come for me, Aubrey,” he whispers as I ride out an orgasm that feels like it has no end.
Spent, I collapse onto the bed.
It takes all my energy, but as Brent undresses I wave my hand to a dresser he designated as mine when I moved into his room. “Look in the bottom drawer,” I say slyly.
Naked and glorious, Brent pads over to the dresser and opens the drawer where DPMB sits in all his glory on top of my lingerie.
“Holy shit, Aubrey!”
He picks up the sex toy and turns to me, wielding it like a weapon of mass pussy destruction. “You really are a bad girl, aren’t you?”
Assuming the no-talking rule is off for now, I prop up on my elbows and say, “I’ve never used it. I was actually planning to send it to my sister, seeing as she’s a pro when it comes to those things—”
