by Grey, S. R.
Oh, how Nolan loved watching me do that, among other things.
Enough! I grip the steering wheel like I used to grip his cock.
Wait, that’s not helping.
I try another tactic, appealing to the one part of me that Nolan neglected—my heart.
“Yeah! He treated you like crap in the end, which means he doesn’t deserve your thoughts…or your passion.”
There, almost working.
Traffic comes to a complete stop, so I squeeze my eyes shut and push away any lingering thoughts of stupid Nolan.
Still not quite there, but close.
I try shaking my head like a maniac, which gives me one hell of a head rush, but does in fact dispel the last vestiges of Nolan.
Ahh, finally!
When I open my eyes, I realize I’ve just made a complete spectacle of myself. Great. Drivers on either side of me are peering over, brows furrowed, like they might be thinking something along the lines of, what’s this chick on and can I get some of it?
“Hey, I’m not a druggie, people,” I say, turning left and right, addressing the drivers and hoping they can read lips.
It’s not entirely true, though, seeing as I’m clearly addicted to something…or, er, someone—Nolan, the sex god.
Ugh, and now I’m thinking about him again. Will it ever end?
I hope so, since showing up to meet my sister a frustrated sexual mess is not a good idea. I clearly need some kind of a distraction. Like music, or even talk radio. Wait, isn’t there a sports radio channel?
I fidget with the stereo system, find a satellite radio channel—I think that’s the right one—and crank up the volume.
But then things get worse. “No, no, not him,” I cry out. “I just can’t get away.”
Yeah, you guessed it, the man I’ve been obsessing over just happens to be a guest on the talk show I tuned in.
And the world continues to conspire against me.
Sometimes when you can no longer fight, you just have to give in.
So I do.
I turn the volume even louder, filling the inside of the car with the smooth, low timbre voice of the man who broke my heart. He’s saying something about rumors being just that—rumors.
Hmmm…
Marty Quick then says, “Aw, come on. All of Canada—no, wait, all of North America wants an answer. Is it true you banged ten strippers in one night?”
Whaaat? I almost plow into the car in front on me. Good thing we’re moving at a crawl.
While I commence cursing out Nolan, I hear him reply, “No, no, that’s not true at all.”
“You better say no, buddy,” I grind out, not believing him at all.
Nolan goes on to deny the story, but there’s something in his tone that tells me he’s lying.
“You—you prick!” I scream, causing the driver next to me, a sweet old grandma-type, to glare over at me and tsk.
Shrugging, I point down to the gear shift. “Manual transmission,” I mouth. And then, since her window is down, I yell over, “I was saying stick, not the bad word.”
Grandma closes her window so quickly I hear it snap shut. She shakes her head and makes the sign of the cross, probably condemning the possessed girl next to her—me—to hell.
Well, don’t worry, Grandma. I’m already there.
The image of the man who broke my heart getting it on with ten strippers has my blood boiling. And one thing’s for sure—when I do happen to see Nolan, who’s rushing to wrap up the interview, I don’t care if we’re not together. I’m totally kicking him in the junk.
Change of Plans
I’m all set to work things out with Lainey. But then I realize I better know ahead of time what I’m going to say. Otherwise, with Lainey’s temper, I could end up making things worse.
“Could it get any worse?” I ask out loud.
Since I don’t really have an answer, and talking to oneself is a little cray-cray, I shut the hell up and resume pacing the hardwood floor of my living room.
After the radio interview, the one where Marty Quick tried to trip me up on the stripper story—like that was going to happen—I returned to my lonely-as-fuck downtown condo, where I’m currently trying to come up with the perfect words to say to Lainey, words that’ll heal and make her forgive me. Oh, and get her back in my bed.
I may be a man with a mission, but the important thing is I am still a man. It’s about time I remember that.
“Fuck it,” I declare. “I’m done with this worrying-what-to-say shit.”
Flopping down on the sofa, I grab my laptop off a side table. “I simply need to show Lainey how I feel. We work better that way. We’re action, not words, kind of people.”
It’s true. Lainey and I thrive on action. So what if it’s action that mostly centers on sex? It’s still action, eh? I prefer to communicate with my body, anyway.
So where to start…
I need a destination.
Lainey’s parents live north of Pittsburgh, in a little town called Butler. I suspect that’s where I’ll find her. She graduated from the University of Minnesota this spring, but here it is late August and she still hasn’t found a job—a tidbit Brent let slip a couple of weeks ago when we were talking on the phone. So if Lainey followed through on what she told me she’d do if she couldn’t find a career-track job by summer, she’s definitely at her folks’ place.
I pause, fingers hovering over the keyboard, as it hits me that I’m profoundly saddened by how things worked out.
“Yeah, that’s why you’re fixing it now,” I mutter as I hastily type in flights to Pittsburgh.
The screen populates with dozens of choices, along with a straggler pop-up alerting me that a new video clip has been uploaded to my go-to porn site.
I hesitate, but then move to close out the alert, since, let’s face it, I don’t have time to jerk off when there’s planning to do.
But then—oops!—I accidentally hit the arrow on the clip, instead of the x. The video starts playing and I watch for a few seconds, because hello, it’s porn!
There’s a close-up of bouncing boobs, and then a long shot of a rocking car. Finally, a penetration shot. I’m pretty much hard as steel now, but I close the clip, because no time, remember?
That little bit is still more than enough to remind me of my last encounter with Lainey. Just like in the video clip, we engaged in a quickie in the back of a vehicle. Our encounter occurred on a bus, though, not a car. The Wolves had just played a late-season game against the Minnesota Wild, and the bus in question was waiting to transport the team to the airport.
I knew it’d be empty for a while, and unattended.
With wicked thoughts already at play, I rushed around that night, making sure I showered and dressed before any of the other players. That allowed me time to slip out of the visiting team’s locker room and call Lainey.
She was still in school at the time, but the campus was only minutes away. “Are you up for some fun?” I asked the second she answered.
“Nolan?”
For some crazy reason, I was overcome with jealousy. “Were you expecting someone else to be calling, asking if you wanted to have some fun?” I groused.
“No,” she replied.
I breathed a sigh of relief and dialed it back a notch.
“Did you catch any of the game tonight?” I asked in a sweet tone.
“No, but I heard you guys lost.”
Burn. My little hellcat was pissed I’d snapped at her. It had been a dick move, and I needed to make it up to her somehow. Good thing I knew how.
“What do you think about sneaking away and meeting up with me before the team flies out?”
“What? When? Now?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know, Nolan…”
“Oh, come on. Please say yes. I need you tonight, and you know I’ll make it worth your while.”
In her snottiest-snot voice, she replied, “Hmm, I’m kind of busy studying.”
Tease. She was playing hard to get. And the crazy thing was I fucking loved it. But enough was enough.
“Just meet me at the arena.”
She acted bored as she replied, “I guess I could use a break from the books.”
“You think, eh?” I had her now. I laughed and gave her directions. “The bus is just down the parking ramp near Gate B.”
“Oh, okay.” Still acting bored, she asked, “And just what are we going to do once I’m there?”
Ah, Lainey loves dirty talk and here was my opening.
“I’m going to start by fucking you hard and fast. Hopefully, we’ll be done before the team files in. But if not, maybe I’ll not stop, and we’ll give them a show.” I wasn’t serious about the last, but I knew the idea of it would turn her on, my little wannabe exhibitionist.
Groaning, she replied, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Can you make it five?”
“I can try.”
She was there in four. And I kept my promise of making it worth her while—using my mouth—before anything else happened. When the rest of the fun started, I don’t know if it was because we were still keeping it a secret that we’d been hooking up since New Year’s, or maybe it was just the possibility of getting caught while fucking in the bus, but in any case, the sex was exceptionally hot.
Lainey rode out a leg-shaking climax, gyrating in my lap with my pulsing cock buried deep inside her, long enough for me to have my own mind-blowing orgasm at the same time. After she caught her breath, and while I was still recovering, she disengaged herself and hopped off.
She pulled up her panties and yanked down her short skirt. And then, standing in the aisle, she breathed out, “Wow, Nolan, that was amazing. I’m glad I took that study break.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I bet.”
We hadn’t bothered to undress completely, having just yanked up or down what had been necessary. All I had to do was pull up my boxers and adjust my pants, which I did, but without bothering to zip up. I kind of wanted more, but we were awfully tight on time.
Ah, what the hell… I yanked Lainey down to my lap.
She pretended to protest. “Nolan—”
But I put a stop to that. “Shut up and let me kiss you, eh?”
That made her melt. “Oh, I love it when you talk Canadianisms.”
“Silly girl.”
I kissed her hard. Shit, I was still had a lot of pent-up energy. What was wrong with me? I’d just played a hard game and blown my load. Yet something was nagging at me. I felt like things were closing in, and I didn’t like it or know why. I assumed that’s why I wanted more sex.
I tore away from the kiss, long enough to ask, “Do you know how fucking gorgeous you are, Lainey?” She was fucking glowing, and I growled, “Fuck. I can never get enough of you.”
She let out a sigh, and I nuzzled her neck until she relaxed into my arms like a gooey post-orgasm mess.
“God, I know, Nolan,” she purred. “I feel the same way about you.”
There was something in her tone, like a hint of underlying meaning in her remark.
What the fuck does that mean? Maybe we shouldn’t have more sex.
I ignored my rising panic as she straddled me. And that’s when, as I was sliding my nose along her collarbone and inhaling her, I realized something—it was my own feelings I was terrified of. But how could that be? I never let myself become too attached.
Dropping the idea of another round of sex, I asked, “When can I see you again?”
She tensed like I’d brought up something she’d been mulling over.
“Um, I’m not sure.”
She hid her face in the crook of my neck. This wasn’t Lainey, all meek and uncertain. But I sure as hell wasn’t about to ask her what was bothering her. That might lead to me having to express myself, as in put my own heart out there on the line.
Fuck that. Been there, done that, and what did I learn? That it’s easier to just fuck ’em and leave ’em.
“Tell me when,” I pressed, keeping on the subject of sex, even though it wasn’t happening now. But she didn’t know that.
“I have to see you again.” I reached down and cupped her warm and still-so-wet-for-me pussy, her panties a poor barrier. “Fuck, I need more of this…and soon. If the team wasn’t due back any minute, I swear I’d bend you across this fucking aisle right now and have you one more time.”
There actually was time, but that weird feeling of being trapped was holding strong.
Suddenly, not helping matters, Lainey said, “Hey, I have an idea.”
I knew right away this wasn’t about meeting up again for more sex. And she wasn’t taking the bait for my bend-you-across-the-aisle suggestion—even if it had been a bluff—so this couldn’t be good. I also had a suspicion her “idea” wasn’t something new. It was something she’d been pondering for a while.
Gearing up for the worst, I moved my hand to the outside of her thigh, a safer area for what was becoming an unfortunately more serious talk.
Cautiously, I asked, “What kind of idea are we talking about here?”
She drew in a breath, then blurted out, “What do you think about coming to my graduation?”
“Uh…” Shit.
Lainey rushed on, like she could convince me by talking fast. “It’s only a couple of weeks away, Nolan. And you’d only have to stay for that day. Unless, of course,”—her turquoise eyes met mine, and there was so much emotion, real emotion, in those depths—“you’d want to stay longer.”
I went stone-cold still. “Babe, the playoffs are starting next week. I can’t get away.”
“Okay, so like I said, just stay for the day. I already checked the schedule, and there’s not supposed to be a playoff game that Saturday.”
“Lainey…” I loosened my grip on her, wishing she’d get off me. I was feeling way too constricted.
Winking down at me, trying to put on a brave front even though it was obvious I wasn’t warming to her plan, she said coyly, “You know I won’t be busy every second of that day. I’m sure we could get away.”
Ah, the old lure-me-with-the-promise-of-sex trick, an oldie but goodie, and one that usually worked. I had to give her props for pulling out all the stops. Too bad it wasn’t having an effect on me this time.
“I don’t know,” I hedged, hoping I could let her down easy before we reached a point of no return. “Your whole family will be there that day, eh?”
Not even my “Canadianisms” could make her smile then. We were definitely doomed.
“Yes, of course they’ll be there, Nolan. That’s the whole point. You’ve met my sister, but I want you to meet my parents.”
Shit, too late. The point of no return had just been breached. And damn if she didn’t look even more determined, her initial reticence evaporated.
I let go of her, my hands dropping to my sides. “What? Why would I want to do that?” I asked, alarmed.
Her face fell. Fuck, she was hurt, and it was my fault. Quickly, she schooled her expression to something more neutral. She knew I was getting antsy.
But how could I not feel boxed in? Attending a freaking life event with Lainey and her family sounded like commitment territory to me. And I avoid that shit at all costs. She knew that too. But she didn’t know I had a damn good reason.
Still trying to play it cool, she smiled down at me so sweetly that it just about broke my heart. For where I knew this was headed…and how I knew I’d have to respond.
“Nolan,” she said, trying hard to sound reasonable. “We can’t keep it a secret forever that we’ve been hooking up. Sure, Aubrey may have issues with you, but my parents are different—”
“Your sister fucking hates me,” I interjected as I tried to derail the locomotive heading for a brick wall.
“That’s not true.”
I gave her my best are-you-sure-you-want-to-go-there look, to which she replied, “It doesn’t matter. Aubrey’s bound to figure out there’s something going on betwee
n us. Hell, I think Brent already suspects we’ve slept together. So graduation is the perfect opportunity to stop hiding and come clean.”
“Uh, I don’t know, Lainey.”
I was at an impasse. I didn’t want to end what I had with her, but I sure as hell wasn’t ready to commit to a “real” relationship with her either. While I sat there, thinking of ways for us both to come out of this unscathed, sweet Lainey grew more and more excited, mistaking my silence for capitulation.
“My parents are going to love you,” she squealed, scaring me further. “And you know your teammates will be all-in on the idea of us. With that many people in our corner, my stubborn sister will have no choice but to accept us as a couple.”
Aubrey and her opinions were the least of my worries. “Hold up a minute, babe.” I was trying to sound cool and casual, but I don’t know. I guess, in looking back, I just sounded terse. “You need to relax,” I said. “Go with the flow a little more.”
“Relax? Go with the flow?”
I felt Lainey’s anger begin to roll off her. And I knew she’d reached her boiling point when she jumped up off my lap. Not only is she impulsive and fiery in bed, but she’s a spitfire outside of it.
“What exactly are you trying to say?” she ground out.
Oh, this next one was bound to get me into trouble. Still, I couldn’t refrain from stating, “Look, we’ve hooked up what, maybe four or five times since New Year’s Eve?”
“More like seven, Nolan. But who the fuck is counting, huh?”
“Does that include today?” I raised a brow. Bad move.
“Fuck you, Nolan.” Ooh, she’s pissed now.
I turned it down a notch, so I wouldn’t end up with one of her heels in my head.
“Okay, then,” I went on, all reasonable-sounding, or so I thought. “That’s really not all that much time. And when you add in that most of those occasions were spent fucking—”
“That’s because fucking, Nolan, is all you ever want to do,” she yelled.
