Page 38 of From Coast to Coast
I sigh. “He’s notthatbig. But yes, him.”
“I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is I came and he didn’t. He got me off and apparently all of my brain cells were orgasmed to death because I let him leave without doinganythingin return. Like…I didn’t even get to touch him.”
“You blue-balled the guy on your first round?” He laughs.
“It’s not funny! I texted him to come back, but he hasn’t replied. I feel like I need to make it up to him.”
“Okay, okay, calm down. You are so fucking dramatic, sometimes. First of all, glad to hear you enjoyed your first hand job from a man. Second—how the hell did you have a sexual encounter and not even touch your partner? I’m picturing you just standing there like an idiot.”
“No, he was pinning my hands to the wall,” I tell him, and Alex whistles.
“Well, well,” he says, and his smile is evident in his voice. “I have to say, though, if a guy that big pinned me to a wall, I’d probably shit myself.”
“It was fun. Forme.I feel terrible.”
“It’s not a big deal. He knows you’re new to the world of dude-on-dude action, so he was probably wanting to focus on you. Ease you in a little bit. I doubt he’s sitting at home bemoaning the fact that you didn’t touch his dick.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I agree, hoping he’s right. After hearing from Amanda how unsatisfying I am in bed, I’m not feeling too great about my sexual prowess at this point. Letting Grayson go after our one-sided affair isn’t exactly tallying points in my favor.
“Stop stressing, you can make it up to him next time. It’s sex, not a transaction. I’m sure he had just as much fun as you did. Now, tell me more about how he pinned your hands.”
“No.”
“Developed a taste for being manhandled?”
“Thanks for chatting, but I’ve got to go to bed. Early start tomorrow, okay, bye!”
I hang up before he can respond. There is a message from Grayson asking if everything is okay and why does he need to come back. I can already anticipate his response when I type out an explanation for the text. If he was standing right in front of me, I bet he’d be grinning.
Grayson
Don’t worry about it. Today was about you.
I sigh at the typical Grayson response. Too bad I’m all worries, and that’s unlikely to change just by telling me not to. All I can do is hope there will be a next time.
And god, I really hope there will be a next time. It wasn’t even the hand job that was the best part. No. It was Grayson locking my wrists together above my head and keeping them there. It was Grayson’s body—big and indisputably male—pinning me. If I’d known how much fun it was, I would have asked him to throw me against a wall sooner. I can’t fucking wait to do it again.
Maybe next time we’ll be in a bed. Naked.
Reaching down, I adjust myself. Little more than a thought about Grayson lying on top of me in bed, and I’m hard and ready to go once more. Getting up, I grab the bottle of lube he put in my housewarming package and sit back down on the couch. Instead of pulling up porn on my phone, I tip my head back and close my eyes. I need nothing but thoughts of Gray.
CHAPTER TEN
Grayson
Perhaps it’sthe years-long dry spell I’ve been in, or perhaps it’s the fact that Remy is so much my type, but jacking off in the shower is just not cutting it anymore. I know how he sounds, and how he shudders when he comes. I know that he’s the perfect height for me and we fit together seamlessly. All of these things should give me more than enough ammunition to create fantasies to whack off to, yet nothing is as good as having him there. I don’t want to touch myself—I want to touchhim.
And this is why teammates should never get involved, I think, as Remy walks into the hotel a few paces ahead of me. His suit pants are tight, showing off powerful legs and a tempting, round ass. The suit is a dark, forest-green color that perfectly brings out the green flecks in his hazel eyes, which I know because I haven’t stopped staring at him since we boarded the team bus this morning. Someone is going tonotice me leering at him, and with my luck it’ll be Petterson who would surely take it to management.
I tear my eyes away from him, doing my best to pretend he doesn’t exist and I don’t know how his lips taste.
The game against Edmonton starts promisingly. Our fourth line forwards show up and have more shots on goal in the first period than all the rest of the lines combined. Rikkens and I are a damn near impenetrable wall against the opposing offense, blocking as many shots as Gordon and getting an assist each.
Unfortunately, as is wont to happen in professional hockey, the second period brings with it a wave of resurgence from Edmonton. For every shooting lane I cut off, they create another, and the first half of the period passes without ever leaving our defensive zone. They score. Sheer volume of shots almost ensures this outcome but it’s infuriating, nonetheless.
The next time I’m sent over the boards, Rikkens and I are playing with the top forward line. It’s Petterson who takes the draw, but loses. I manage to keep it in our attacking zone, guarding the puck against the boards and sending it to Zolkov to try once more for the net.