Playing Hurt_An Aces Hockey Novel

by Kelly Jamieson

“I can’t wait.” Her voice came out low and husky and my balls tingled.

  “Yeah, me either.”

  We ended the call, and I set my phone on the counter.

  An empty ache throbbed inside me. I hated thinking about her unhappy—trying to write songs and struggling because she couldn’t sing. It was how I felt on the ice when I couldn’t do the things I wanted to. The things I knew I could do. We got what the other was going through. I just wished there was something I could do to make things better for her. Her recovery was out of my control.

  What was in my control though was to make her happy in other ways, whether it was a spontaneous trip to the Caribbean, bad jokes about fortune cookies, or…I had to think of something to cheer her up for when I came back.

  Of course, making her dreams come true in bed was a good start.

  Chapter 15

  Jordyn

  Chase’s hands on my ass pulled me up and down on his cock. I straddled him, my fists planted into the mattress on either side of him, riding him, riding him hard. Sensation coiled inside me, swelling and spreading through my body. I was super sensitized, prickling, quivering, my heart tripping.

  “Fuck yeah,” he groaned.

  I lowered my face to his, resting my nose alongside his, our hot breath mingling. Our eyes met and held, and the intimacy of it was nearly unbearable, hot and powerful and consuming.

  He bent his knees and fucked up into me, driving hard, and I couldn’t stop the stream of moans that emitted from my throat as sharp sensation built inside me. He squeezed my ass cheeks then wrapped his arms around my back, one hand sliding into my hair, holding me tight against him. His breath was harsh, his mouth open.

  I pushed up straight.

  “Oh yeah. Look at those sweet tits.” He fondled my breasts, squeezing and shaping them, plucking at both nipples. Intense pleasure rocketed through me.

  Then I was airborne, being lifted off him and swung around, onto my hands and knees. Behind me, he nipped at my butt cheeks with lips and teeth, then licked over my flesh. “Oh God.”

  “Love this sweet ass.” He gave one cheek a little tap, then lifted my hips and buried his face into my pussy from behind. It was shockingly wonderful, a heady exhilaration flooding my veins, tightening the coiling heat even more.

  “Chase, oh my God, Chase, I can’t stand it…”

  He licked more, over my clit, and my legs shook. Heat cascaded over my body, burning my skin. My head spun.

  “Fucking sweet,” he muttered. “I could eat this sweet pussy all damn day.”

  I trembled more, my arms giving out, and I collapsed onto the bed, my ass in the air, Chase’s mouth still there, taking me higher and higher. I pressed my face into the duvet of Chase’s bed, my lungs on fire, my body straining toward release. Yes…yes…there it was. My cries muffled in the bed, sensation exploded, pleasure slamming me, weakening me. Chase drew it out so long I thought I might die from the ecstasy.

  Eventually his mouth slowed, and he pressed soft kisses to my pussy, then my butt, then the small of my back, and then he entered me. As always, he filled me so exquisitely, and my pussy throbbed around him, still so sensitive, my orgasm continuing in small pulses and waves of heat. It was the sweetest agony, endless, beautiful bliss as Chase slid in and out, gripping my hips.

  He lowered himself over me, kissed my upper back, swept my hair aside, and kissed my neck, then pressed his mouth to my shoulder. He drove into me in rapid, rough strokes, his breath harsh in my ear. Another explosion detonated inside me, softer but still potent, and then he came too, pressing into me in longer, deeper strokes, groaning his ecstasy.

  We collapsed into a sweaty heap, panting, his weight heavy on me, but so welcome and warm and lovely.

  “Goddamn, Jordyn. Have I told you how much I love your pussy?”

  I huffed. “Um, maybe.”

  “Can’t get enough of you, gorgeous girl.” He kissed my cheek. “Never enough.”

  * * *

  —

  “That’s so weird that nothing showed up on the MRI.”

  Curled up together in his bed a while later, Chase ran a hand through my hair, sending tingles cascading all the way down to the backs of my thighs. “It is.”

  “But something’s wrong. You’re not imagining it.”

  “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m inventing physical symptoms to try to justify why I’m playing so shitty.”

  “What the fuck?” I lifted my head to peer at him. “What kind of bullshit is that?”

  He grinned. “I don’t know. It sounded good.”

  “But seriously. What now? They have to figure out what the problem is.”

  “The team doc is referring me to a specialist. At the Mayo Clinic.”

  “Whoa. Really?” I stared at him with wide eyes.

  “Yep. In Minnesota.”

  “Oh. When will you go there?”

  “I think I’ll wait until the season is over.”

  I straightened, then pushed up to sit. Chase’s gaze dropped to my bare breasts, where he’d just had his hands and mouth all over me. I pulled the sheet up and tucked it under my arms. “No.”

  “Huh?” He lifted his gaze to my face.

  “You can’t wait that long.” I bit my lip. “You need to go sooner and find out what’s wrong.”

  “It’s not life threatening.”

  “How do you know that? You don’t know what’s wrong!” My voice was rising, agitation twisting my insides.

  “It’s okay, Jordyn, I’m fine. Really.”

  He thought I was being a drama queen. I could tell. I curled the edge of the sheet between my fingers. “Chase. You’re not.”

  His jaw tensed. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s getting you down. You’re not happy about how you’re playing. You love hockey, and yet I get the feeling you dread every game lately.”

  He regarded me with narrow eyes and tight lips. “Look. Even if they figure out what’s wrong, there’s not going to be a quick solution. If I need some kind of surgery, I’ll be out for months probably. I can’t do that.”

  “Better to be out for months than forever.”

  He heaved a long-suffering sigh, obviously annoyed at my persistence about this. My stomach tensed. I probably shouldn’t push him like this. He’d gotten angry last time.

  We were sleeping together, but it wasn’t really my place to tell him what to do about his health and fitness. He was a professional, and he must have known how far he could push his body.

  I hoped.

  “I wish you would go to the Mayo Clinic sooner,” I said quietly. “I know it’s not my business, but I do care about you and I think you’d feel better knowing what’s going on.” I dropped my gaze to the duvet on his bed.

  “It’s my body and my decision.” His sharp tone felt like a hot knife between my ribs. “You say you care, but what you really mean is, you only care if I do what you want me to do.”

  My head snapped up to stare at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

  He shrugged, his eyebrows joined above his nose, the corners of his lips turned down. “What I said. People only care if I’m perfect. If I do what they want.”

  My mouth fell open. I tried to make sense of this. “Are you saying I’m using you for something?”

  “Everybody’s using me for something,” he muttered. “Jesus.”

  I searched his face, still contemplating this. Now I was angry too though, that he’d accuse me of that. “What. The. Fuck.” I threw off the sheet and slid off the bed. “You are such an asshole.”

  I grabbed my clothes from where I’d tossed them onto the chair. I briefly considered getting dressed there, but that was awkward since we were both furious, so I stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. For good measure, I flicked the lock.

 
I dropped my bundle of clothing onto the granite vanity and stared at myself in the mirror. Oy. I had bed head and kiss-swollen lips. Pink marks adorned my neck and breasts, reminding me of how much pleasure Chase had given me in bed last night.

  How had things deteriorated into a fight so quickly?

  My bottom lip pushed out as I pawed through my clothes, finding panties and bra, then my jeans and sweater. With trembling hands, I dressed. I used Chase’s hairbrush to smooth my wild strands, then turned to the door, my chest tight, my heart racing. I leaned my forehead against the cool wood for a few seconds, gathering up my courage to walk out there and out of his home. And probably his life.

  Should I apologize to him? I didn’t really understand why he was so upset, but then again, I’d been accused a few times of meddling in people’s lives, trying to tell them what was best for them or what to do. I wasn’t trying to take control; I was worried about him.

  Nah, fuck him. He was overreacting about this. And he was being stupid, a stupid macho man who couldn’t admit something was wrong.

  I unlocked the door and flung it open. I strode out. He wasn’t in the bedroom so I kept going, down the hall to the door where I’d left my jacket and boots and purse. I didn’t know where he was, but I wasn’t going to hunt for him. I was out of here.

  I sat on the bench in the foyer and pulled on my boots. My eyes started to water, and my vision blurred a little, and I blinked angrily. I didn’t bother to put my jacket on, just grabbed it and my purse and left.

  As I waited for the elevator I half expected Chase to come after me. But he didn’t.

  * * *

  —

  “So tell me what’s going on with the hot hockey hunk.”

  Anjali and I sat in my living room, each of us at one end of the couch, legs curled under us, big glasses of wine in our hands. The wine I’d drunk on my Caribbean trip with Chase hadn’t hurt my throat, so I’d invited Anjali over for some girl time and wine Saturday night. I ignored the fact that the Aces were playing tonight and left the TV off.

  “He’s a jerk.”

  Anjali’s perfect dark eyebrows rose. “That doesn’t sound good. Did something happen on the trip?”

  “No. The trip was amazing.” I sighed. “So amazing.” I paused. “If I tell you something about Chase, you have to keep it a complete secret.”

  “I’m intrigued. Is he a cross-dresser? That would really be hot gossip—a cross-dressing hockey player.”

  “Jesus! No! Why would you say that?”

  “I don’t know.” She grinned, her teeth white against her brown skin. “It just popped into my head.”

  “It’s nothing scandalous like that. It’s a physical ailment.”

  “Oh no.” She leaned forward. “Does he have a tiny penis? Or…” She shuddered. “He can’t get it up?”

  I had to laugh. “No, Anj. His penis is perfect, and he definitely knows what to do with it.”

  “Now that sounds promising. You can tell me all about that later. First, tell me what’s wrong.”

  I told her about Chase’s nagging wrist problems and his reluctance to find out what was wrong. And I told her about our argument that morning. “He was so pissed at me for trying to convince him to go to the Mayo Clinic before the season is over, and he practically accused me of using him. For what though?” I snorted then sipped my wine. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

  “He thinks he’s Chase Hartman, star hockey player. Probably women have used him.”

  “Probably. Whatever. That’s just insulting to me.” I tossed my hair back. Then I remembered him telling me about the women who said they loved hockey, who really didn’t but just wanted to date a hockey player. The girlfriend who’d dumped him…because she didn’t want to be with him unless he was a pro hockey player. My insides constricted. I wasn’t like that. “I’m worried about him.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “Of course he knows that! We actually argued about this before, when we were away on our trip.” I bit my lip. “That’s why I said this has to be a secret. They always keep their injuries secret. I’m not sure why. Possibly because their opponents would take advantage of it if they knew. Like, some guy would slash Chase’s wrist knowing he was vulnerable there.” My stomach did a sick roll, thinking about that and the risks he was taking every game.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t hang around with many hockey players,” Anjali said dryly. “And I have no desire to.” She grimaced.

  “What? What was that look for?” I pointed a finger at her.

  “I’m not into big dumb jocks.”

  “Hey. They’re not big dumb jocks. Chase is very smart.”

  “I’m sure he is.” Anjali held up a hand. “Sorry. Apparently you’ve got it bad for this dude.”

  “I do not.”

  “Oh, honey.” She regarded me sympathetically. “You had a fight with him. You’re angry at him. But you’re defending him.” She tilted her head to make her gaze sharper, and the light from the floor lamp glinted off the diamond stud in her nostril.

  “Oh.” I sank back into the cushions. “You have a point.” I inserted my index fingernail between my teeth. “Shit, this is bad, isn’t it?”

  Anjali shrugged. “Maybe?”

  “It is bad.” I sighed. “I’ve been upset all day because of our argument. And even more upset thinking I’ll never see him again.”

  “Ah, hon. This seems to be getting serious.”

  “And it shouldn’t be. I’m going back to L.A. in a few months. He’s here, with a crazy schedule. We both knew that going into this.” I sighed. “I probably shouldn’t have pushed him so hard. It’s just a fun, casual thing, and I got too serious. I was only worried about him though.”

  “You do tend to be a bit meddlesome.” One eyebrow arched.

  I scowled. “Like when?”

  “Like when I was dating Jay Koslowski and you told me I should break up with him.”

  “He was an asshole! He was screwing around on you! You just didn’t want to hear that.” We’d had a big argument over that, but eventually Anjali had realized I was right and dumped his ass.

  “True.” She shrugged. “And what about your friend Malik? Didn’t you two have a spat about his manager?”

  “Yes. His manager was a dick. He was stealing money from him.”

  “But Malik didn’t like you interfering in his business.”

  My heart sank. “True.” I met my friend’s eyes. “So you think I shouldn’t have tried to make Chase go to the Mayo Clinic?”

  “No, I’m not saying that. I know your heart is in the right place and you have good intentions. But sometimes people don’t like to be told what to do when they haven’t asked for advice.”

  “Should…should I apologize to him?”

  “An apology never hurts.”

  I looked away, tipping my glass to my lips again. “Maybe it’s better to just let things go. If we were getting too serious, it’s better to end things now.”

  “You could be right.”

  I gave her a frustrated glare. “I forgot how you don’t like to give advice.”

  Anjali chuckled and swirled her wine. “You always had enough advice to give for both of us.”

  Her gentle tone was teasing not harsh, and I smiled. “You won’t tell me what to do, will you?”

  “Nope. But feel free to talk it out. That usually helps.”

  “True.”

  I told her all about the trip and how wonderful it had been and how amazing Chase was. We talked about him being afraid to go to the doctor, but that he finally had. We talked about Anjali’s job and her students, one in particular she was mentoring because she was such a talented pianist, and her parents’ attempts to match her up with the son of family friends.

  “I’ve been putting up with this my w
hole life,” she complained.

  I well knew this. Anjali’s parents had come to America from India shortly before Anjali had been born. Their marriage had been an arranged marriage. Even at the age of ten when Anjali and I had met, I’d been fascinated by their belief that marriage was a matter of karmic destiny, spellbound by their talk of happy unions among Hindu gods—Shiva and Parvati, Krishna and Radha. Anjali’s father felt he had to fulfill his parental duty by finding her a husband.

  But from the time Anjali had kissed Jay Koslowski under the bleachers at age fourteen, she’d resisted the idea that her marriage would be arranged. She wanted to find true love.

  “Even though they say it’s not an arranged marriage in the traditional sense, they just want me to meet him because they really think we would make a good couple.” She rolled her eyes. “That is not happening.”

  I grinned. “So you haven’t even met him yet?”

  “I met him when I was twelve. He was fourteen. He was a complete dork.”

  “Oh well, then no point in finding out how he turned out now he’s twenty-six. What does he do for a living?”

  “He’s an engineer. See? Dork. I’m sure we have nothing at all in common. I like music and theater and museums. He probably likes…well, I have no idea.”

  I wanted to tell her that she should at least meet him, because why not? But given her earlier comments about my tendencies to interfere in people’s lives and give unwanted advice, I imagined myself zipping my lips tightly closed.

  By the end of the evening I’d decided that I should apologize to Chase. Not that I thought we should keep seeing each other, but like Anjali had said, an apology never hurt.

  So after Anjali had left, I picked up my phone and typed in a short message. It took me several tries before I got it right. Hi Chase. I want to apologize for giving you advice you didn’t want or need. It wasn’t my place. Your career and health decisions are up to you. It wasn’t my intention to interfere, just to help. I hope everything works out for you and wish you all the best.

  My eyes dampened as I re-read it several times and my finger hovered over the send arrow before finally tapping it.