Thursday, November 25, 2010
It's short but I wanted to put up something for those of you drowzing ater eating too much turkey and having no hockey to watch
There’s something about a man washing your hair, Edie thought as she leaned back against him, her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her face as he ran his fingers through her hair distributing the green apple scented shampoo more evenly than she would have herself. It wasn’t just that he was washing her hair, she decided, or even how gently he was doing it. It was that just him. He was that sweet and that considerate. Beats the hell out of the last few guys I’ve dated, she sighed.
“Sorry, did that hurt?” he asked, his fingers pausing mid rake, as if he’d caught them on a tangle, of which there were a few considering how sticky his fingers had been with whip cream and various other sweet and sticky desert topping when he’d wrapped her hair around his hand to fuck her mouth. She smiled at the memory, mostly at the half surprised half shocked look on his face when she’d deep throated him.
“No,” she replied with a contented little groan, “not at all. It’s good, really good.” She felt him chuckle more than heard it, a quick rise and fall of his chest against her back as his fingers recommenced their slow, gently movements through her hair. I could get used to this, she thought as he began to dig his fingers more firmly into her scalp, making slow circles at her temples and behind her ears, massaging the shampoo in, it’s a good thing I only have one more day in the windy city. That thought was quickly followed by an uneasy churning of her stomach, which she told herself was just the mixture of all the sugar she’d just consumed with all of the alcohol she’d downed before. Funny, she thought, I don’t feel drunk but I must be to fuck Jonathan Toews, right?
That thought was quickly forgotten as he turned her and backed her under the shower head, removing the wand and moving it deliberately around her head, rinsing the suds away. He’d warned her to keep her eyes closed but Edie found herself looking up at his thoughtful expression, finding herself smiling at the concentration that made him frown as he dragged the fingers of one hand through her hair while the other hand followed with the shower wand. He’s never done this before, she realized with a certain amount of satisfaction that made her smile, but he’s doing it for me.
She continued to watch him silently as he sorted through a number of bottles he’d retrieved from beneath the sink, looking for conditioner which she was sure he probably never used. Not that there was anything wrong with his hair, specifically, but from what she’d seen in the medicine cabinet and the lack of scented soaps or bath oils in the tray next to the big Jacuzzi tub next to the shower they stood in, she had deduced that there were no regular female visitors to his place, not even his mother.
“I knew I had one!” he announced with a grin that frankly made his eyes look a little...well, crazed. “It’s just a trial size...probably stole it from a hotel or something,” he added, holding up the bottle like it was some kind of prize. It made her think of his gold medal, made her wonder where he kept it, if he even kept it here. It was probably in a safety deposit box or maybe he’d given it to his parents. “What?” he asked, his hand pausing with the cap half twisted off.
“I don’t know,” she felt herself blush as she looked up into his face. “You’re just...cute I guess.” The grin he’d just been wearing that said ‘I’m proud of myself’ disappeared, to be replaced by something softer, less focussed as he bent to kiss her.
He still tasted like whip cream and butterscotch, she thought as his mouth moved over hers’ and his tall muscular body pressed her to the river rock tiled wall. She heard the trial sized bottle of conditioner hit the pebbled floor and briefly wondered if all of it was going to end up being washed down the drain. Not that she cared as his tongue swept around hers and his cock sprang to attention, pressing eagerly against her stomach.
He felt the heat of the shower on his back but mostly he felt the warm, wet heat of her cunt around his dick as he pushed it into her as far as it would go. He felt her nails digging into the back of his head and he thought it should hurt, but it didn’t. The little pin pricks of pain heightened all of the other sensations he was feeling, the pressure in his balls that made him feel like his sack was going to explode any second and the tightening of her muscles around his cock as he adjusted her weight in his hands.
Maybe it’s a good thing she doesn’t live here, he told himself as he breathlessly kissed her neck, or I’d never be able to play, I’d always be balls deep in her. He’d never been one for passing the time in hotels on the road with random puck fucks like Kaner and Sharpie and some of the other guys did. Oh he’d done it, every once in a while, but he’d never really felt very good about himself afterwards. He hadn’t been raised to use women that way. He’d always woken up with a guilty conscience and the feeling that he would have had more fun playing cards or X-box or something. I won’t feel like that this time, he knew as he rammed himself into her as far as he could, listening to her gasp as their hips met with a wet slapping sound.
Now he could understand why Kaner would risk the wrath of Quenneville for a night with certain girls. He thought of every time he’d shaken his head at his shorter, mop haired teammate and Pat had just smirked and taken the Coach’s abusive language. He’d gladly take it for another night like this, he thought as captured her mouth again and drove himself into her, nailing her to the wall. He ignored the fact that the river rock that made up the wall of his shower was grazing his knuckles, that his hands would look like he’d gone ten rounds with some guy’s helmet by morning. He’d gladly explain why and he’d probably wear the same smirk Kaner did when he strolled in late for practice wearing a myriad of love bites.
Speaking of which, Jon kissed his way down to where her pulse beat wildly in her neck. She tasted clean, like ivory soap and vaguely of the apple shampoo he’d used on her hair as he bit down on her neck, his teeth digging in until she cried out and he felt her nails rip into his back, tearing at his flesh and making him roar in pain. The pain only lasted a moment though as the star filled haze of another orgasm hit him and he roared again as he emptied his balls into her. He didn’t think he’d have anything left and yet jet after jet of cum poured out of him as the walls of her pussy milked him dry.
“Holy...holy shit,” she whimpered as he put her back on her feet, though he still held onto her, as much to keep himself up as her. His legs and his heart felt like he’d just done an hour’s worth of wind sprints. “You should bottle that shit,” she coughed as her arms slid from around his neck, “and let me take that home with me.”
“Are you trying to say that I’m good?” he asked, bending to retrieve the bottle of conditioner and placing her under the spray again and dumping the cream coloured liquid into his hand and working it into her hair.
“Not if it’s going to swell your head and turn you into Patrick Kane,” she replied with an impish grin, slipping her arms around his waist and pulling him toward her. He hissed as the water hit his back, telling him she’d left her mark on him as well. He’d have to remind himself to wear whatever scars she left him with as a badge of honour and not let all the ribbing he was going to take from the guys bug him. Kane would be the worst.... “What are you thinking about?” He blinked and looked down at her. She was frowning as she looked up at him, her gaze searching his.
“Just...,” he wondered about telling her the truth and then decided he had nothing to lose. After all, she was going to be gone tomorrow so what did it really matter if she knew that the other guys thought he was kind of a geek? “Just wondering what the other guys will say, y’know, when Kaner tells them I went home with some...,” he started to say girl, but stopped himself. She was no girl, definitely not. “With a beautiful, sexy woman,” he completed his thought and watched her roll her eyes at him.
“Why?” she asked, letting him tip her head back to rinse the conditioner from her hair. “Don’t you do this all the time?” Being well aware of the rep that professional athletes have when it comes to women, he wasn’t surprised by the question, just that she asked it of him, after what they’d already done, and what he already had told her, but when he reached to turn off the water he saw her gaze following him in a way that said she wanted to hear she was special, different. He had no problem telling her that she was.
“No,” he told her truthfully, wrapping her warm body in his arms and slipping his hands down over her shapely ass. “I don’t do this a lot. Hardly at all to be honest and I’ve never,” he kissed the tip of her nose, “ever,” and corner of her mouth, “been lucky enough to be with someone like you.”
“You’ve already gotten in my pants, you don’t have to keep sucking up to me,” she laughed and Jonathan tried to laugh too, but the feel of her quickly cooling, wet body pressed to his somehow made laughter nearly impossible.
“I was just hoping to get you to stay...the night,” he quickly added, forcing a smile on his face that he hoped looked charming and harmless and not at all as desperate and clinging as he was feeling right at that moment.
“Well you haven’t fed me yet and by that I mean real food,” she added with a playful grin, giving his ass a smack, “so if you promise to feed me....”
“There’s a place not too far away, an all night diner,” he said, maybe a little too hastily but she didn’t seem to notice. She smiled and looked interested. “I think I probably have something one of my sister’s left behind somewhere that you could wear...,” she raised a single eyebrow like she didn’t believe him but he just shrugged and reached up to pull down two oversize towels. “I have sisters, okay? Honest.”
“For some reason I believe you,” she said as he wrapped her in one of the plush towels and began to rub her hair with the other. “That must be one of the reasons they call you Captain Serious,” she added as he finished drying her hair, or as much as he could with that towel before he draped it over her shoulders like a cape and reached for the last towel on the warming rack. “You’re not a real fibber are you?” she asked, huddling in the towel as he tucked the end of the towel in at his waist.
“Nope and I kinda suck at poker too,” he told her, grinning when she rolled her eyes.
“Hmmm, good to know,” she mused as he lead her back to the bedroom while he tried to remember where his sister may have left her laundry.