Chapter 11

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true to my word, another chapter before the end of the week & if I get no more done before then, Happy Holidays one and all!

“Awwww shit!” Kaner tossed his stick down the hallway, his gloves following as he continued his temper tantrum into the room. Normally Jon would have felt the same. He wouldn’t have gone so far as to toss his stick or anything else, but he would have been hard pressed to find anything positive to say or think.

He hadn’t played well. Despite getting a power play goal, he hadn’t had a great game. He hadn’t been responsible in his own end and more than once he’d sent a pass to no one, or worse, to an Oiler’s player. Still, as he dropped down to the bench in front of his stall, Jonathan was smiling.

“You’re freaking me out Captain Serious,” Dunc was already half out of his skates. If they’d won most of the guys would have been hooting and hollering and the music would have been cranked. After a win it always took longer to go home. After a loss, the room would be cleared in less than half an hour.

“Sorry,” Jon apologized automatically and then bent to take off his skates. He heard Dunc laugh and then felt his fellow Winnipegger hand mussing his hair.

“I don’t like losing man, but I’m glad to see you wearing that stupid spaced out grin. I was beginning to think that you really might be some kind of android or something.” Jon glanced up at the rugged defenseman and smiled.

“That’s a pretty big word for you,” he teased and then watched as Dunc’s eyes got wider before he let out a shudder and turned to walk away. Laughing to himself, Jon went back to pulling off his skates and then started ripping the tape off of his socks.

“I’m not sure if I should feel guilty about what happened out there or not.” The small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his whole body felt suddenly warmer, like he’d just taken a swig of Irish whiskey. He stared at the very high heeled black boots in front of him and suddenly his mouth turned into a desert. Following the boots up to where they ended just above her knees, Jon flexed his fingers that began to itch with the need to slide up the smooth pale skin, up beneath the hem of the black skirt. “I’m up here Mr. Toews,” she purred and Jon thought he nodded, but wasn’t sure. His gaze was sort of stuck at the glimpse of lace topped thigh highs and he wasn’t entirely sure but he thought he could just see black ribbons and garters too.

“If you don’t know what to do with that Tayzer, I’ll be glad to help out,” Sharpie called from somewhere across the room. Jon ignored the howls and cat calls that followed. He knew what to do with her alright. He just didn’t know how long he could stop himself from doing it.

“You just gonna sit there and stare, Captain Toews? Or am I going to get an autograph?” She was holding a pen out towards him and his befuddled brain knew he was supposed to get up and sign the jersey she was wearing but other, far less family friendly answers to that question kept coming to the forefront of his brain as he got to his feet and finally looked into her emerald green eyes. She was still holding the pen out but he ignored it and took her face in his hands instead and kissed her, hard, right there in front of everyone.

A cheer went up around the room that only sounded half sarcastic but he didn’t care about anyone else in that room at that moment. All he cared about was that her lips tasted like Dr. Pepper, that her tongue was cold against his and that her body softly pressed against his as she wrapped her arms around his back. 

“You kind of stink,” she whispered into his ear as he hugged her close.

“You smell great,” he whispered back, “and that colour suits you.”

“I was kind of surprised I didn’t automatically break out in hives actually,” she replied as he finally unwound himself from her, although he didn’t let go of her completely, his fingers automatically lacing with hers’.

“Maybe just because it’s mine,” he told her in a whisper, not that he had to. The room that had gone silent when she’d walked in behind Rocky Wirtz now sounded like a beehive. “It probably would have it had been Kaner’s.”

“At least, but definitely a rash,” she replied with a smirk. 

“So can I take you home?” he asked, brushing her dark hair back over her shoulder. “I mean, are you going to take off again on me or...?”

“Carly rescheduled our flight for tomorrow,” she explained, “early,” she added, cringing. He sighed; his expression shifting from ecstatic to dejected before he squared his shoulders and nodded.

“Okay, one more night. I’ll take it,” he said resolutely and then, running the back of his hand down her cheek, he dropped his mouth onto hers’ for a brief, soft kiss. “Just let me get out of my gear and have a shower and then I’m spending one more night, the entire night, alone with you.”  His hand held her chin and the way he looked at her made her heart leap against her rib cage.

Edie nodded and turned and headed out through the doorway and into the crowded hallway, glancing back over her shoulder once before the double doors closed to see him standing there by his stall, watching her with a hangdog look on his face. One more night, she repeated to herself silently. He made it sound like he’d be lead to the gas chamber afterwards. She wondered, just for a moment, if it would feel like that to leave him again and then she blew out a long breath through pursed lips and forced the thought from her mind.

“He’s not that important,” she told herself in a voice meant only for her own ears. “It’s just sex, that’s all,” she added and then shook her head at her own lie and laughed. 

They didn’t talk when he walked her out to his car. They didn’t even attempt small talk as his sedan sped through the streets of Chicago towards the river and his condo with a view. They glanced nervously at one another in the elevator. Holding hands made it feel like a date, right down to his sweaty palms. The x-rated images swirling in his brain, however, were unlike any he’d had on a date before.

The minute the door closed and he locked it behind him, he felt like it was his first time all over again. He wiped his hands down his suit pants as he watched her walk over to the floor to ceiling windows in the living room. His jersey was under her arm. She was wearing a black cocktail dress and knee high boots, but he wasn’t seeing her clothes. In his mind she was already naked, in his bed.

His cock strained painfully, tenting his pants as he watched her drop the jersey onto the arm of his couch and reach back to unzip her dress. He told himself he should help her. He told himself that it was the gentlemanly thing to do and besides that, he wanted to smell, touch and taste her skin, but he remained rooted to the spot, staring.

The dress fell around her feet and still she stood with her back to him, only now he couldn’t ignore what she was wearing, or not wearing, which now seemed very much more important.

Her dark hair cascaded down her bare back. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her full breasts peek-a-booed at him in the window as she stood there in just those boots, stockings a garter belt and black bikini panties. She stood there for what felt like a long moment, looking at his reflection in the glass before she reached back for the jersey and slowly slipped it over her head.

That’s definitely going to change the way I look at our jersey he told himself as he moved towards her, each step seeming to take forever, their gazes still locked in the reflection, the only illumination that of the city lights winking at them, like thousands of diamonds surrounding her. The ice crew girls at the rink that Kaner was always ogling wore less and didn’t look this good.

He grabbed her shoulders and pressed his body against the back of hers. Her hair smelled like apricots and her skin tasted of lavender. She gasped as his teeth tugged at skin of her neck and the sound made him even harder than he’d already been. He rubbed his erection against the small of her back and, in answer, she pressed back against him, pressing her round little bottom against him, teasing him.

Growling in frustration, he pressed her against the glass until she was literally trapped there. He took her hands and pressed them flat against the glass and held them there while he pressed the evidence of his desire against her.

“Why’d you leave this morning?” he asked before biting down on her earlobe, tasting the metal of her earring in his mouth.

“I told you I had work to do,” she hissed but it wasn’t pain, he knew by the way she shuddered. He’d felt her body do that before. He felt confident that he knew the difference.

“Is that all?” he asked, using one hand to loosen his tie, still holding her other hand against the glass. “Is that the only reason?” he added, his voice taking on the rough edge of anger as having her back in his apartment reminded him of the hurt he’d felt when he’d found her gone. He watched her reflection, watched her bite down on her full bottom lip as she shook her head. “Tell me,” he hissed in her ear, his gaze still focussed on her reflection. Again, she only shook her head but this time she averted her gaze from his. “I think you know,” he told her, his lips brushing the delicate shell of her ear. “Tell me.”

“I think you have a pretty good idea,” she hissed, looking over her shoulder at him as he stood back to undo the buttons of his dress shirt, but as soon as she started to take her hands off of the glass of the window, he leaned forward and pressed them back flat.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do,” he told her, an angry sneer on his face. It was an expression normally saved only for players like Avery or Ovechkin, guys he didn’t like, guys that made him angry. He was angry now. “I still want you to tell me,” he growled in her ear, using his foot to kick hers’ farther apart. “I want to hear you say it out, out loud.” He added, using one hand to free his now painfully hard cock while his other hand slid up beneath the hem of his jersey to find the inside of her thigh. She shook her head again, making her hair fall over her eyes. He slid his fingers along the outside of the lace of her panties, feeling the heat of her skin through them and how wet the small piece of fabric was that covered her pussy lips. He listened to her suck her breath in between her teeth as he pressed his fingers up against that magic little button that made her entire body shiver and smiled. “Tell me, Edie,” he whispered into her ear, replacing his fingers with shaft, sliding it along the outside of her panties. The lace felt rough on his sensitive skin but the whimper she emitted more than made up for a little discomfort on his part. “Tell me, please.” 

“I don’t want to get...attached,” she nearly sobbed as she admitted it, knowing it was already far too late to avoid it.

“And are you?” she heard him ask as his chest pressed against her back, as his massive thighs came into contact with hers’ and as she felt his arm slide around her waist, holding her to him like an anaconda. “Are you feeling...attached?” He used the word she had used but she knew, just by the way he said it, that he knew at best it was an acronym at best.

“It’s only been one night...it’s not...it isn’t...aaaah.” His strong, thick fingers slid the lace of her panties aside and he nudged just the head of his cock into her entrance.

“Tell me...tell me again what it’s not?” he whispered in ear, his mouth brushing over her cheek as he held her still against him. Her body felt like a coiled spring, like she was energy held in place waiting to be released if he would only fulfill the promise that his body was just beginning to make. One more inch, fuck, even half a fucking inch and she felt like she would let go.

“You tell me. Tell me what you think it is,” she hissed back at him, mad now that he was teasing her, that she had given in and made herself available only to have him do this, make her crazy like this.

“No,” he laughed in her ear, a deep, masculine throaty sound. “I’m crystal clear on how I feel. I want to know if you are.” It was a challenge and from a professional athlete no less. He had control and he knew it. He also clearly knew he was driving her towards the tipping point, the point of no return. Edie felt like she was running towards a car crash, not away from it. She wanted not to want to. She wanted the logical part of her brain that usually worked better than this to kick in. She wanted to earn her moniker of Miss Intense now, but even as that thought entered her mind she knew that the only way she was going to earn that was to feel intensely, physically and....

“I don’t want to have feelings,” she began, the words forced between her teeth.

“That’s more like it.” She could hear the grin clear in his voice as he rewarded her by easing another few inches of his massive member into her. Edie gasped and shut her eyes. She was still tender from last night and this morning, but that wasn’t it, or not exactly. It just felt so god damn good that she couldn’t help but make those noises for him. “Who do you have feelings for, exactly?” he asked as his fingers slid up into her folds, searching for her clit. When he found it her entire body went rigid, her muscles tightened and it was his turn to gasp.

“It can’t happen like this. This kind of thing doesn’t happen,” she mumbled grasping at the last shreds of her dignity, even as her hands clawed at the smooth, cold glass, looking for purchase. There was nothing to hold onto. There was only his arm, around her waist, like a vice. She could feel his bicep pressing into her ribs. It was impressive, but then almost everything about him was. “Not even in movies,” she whined and wondered if she was telling him or only herself.

“When I saw you again tonight,” he whispered in her ear, his long fingers making slow, deliberate circles around her clit that were making it hard to breathe, “I couldn’t believe it. I haven’t been that happy since...well, since The Cup.” Damn, Edie shut her eyes and pressed her forehead to the cool glass pane. He was comparing her to The Cup, the holy grail of hockey, the only prize that really mattered to any red blooded Canadian. It made her head reel. “When I came back today...when you were gone, it hurt.” He was letting her in and she knew for a guy like him that that was a prize in and of itself, a nugget of sincerity and truth to be cherished. “I want you Edie, do you want me?”

Edie curled one hand into a fist and slammed it into the glass. It wasn’t fair. Things like this didn’t happen. Girls...no, women like her didn’t get real Prince Charmings. Fairy tales were just that, stories and love at first sight was just a myth, wasn’t it?

“Yesss, damn you, yesss!”  

She reached back and curled her fingers around his neck, or as much of it as she could, and directed his lips to her neck. He obliged with teeth and tongue and lips even as he slowly screwed himself all the way into her tight little pussy. Her high heels helped with the angle but as high as they were she was still going up onto tip toes to accommodate him and with each thrust he was nearly lifting her off of her feet but he couldn’t stop and he was damn sure she didn’t want him to.

She was tight and hot and wet and she fit around him like a glove. It felt good, as good, maybe better than he remembered, except for the jersey. His jersey rubbed against his chest as he drove into her and the numbers, his number, rubbed uncomfortably at his bare skin. He let go of her waist long enough to push the heavy material up her back, but it only slid down again. Using both hands he pushed the jersey up to her shoulders and dragged it off the rest of the way and tossed it to the floor somewhere behind them.

She was naked now, except for the boots and the garters and the panties that were also in the way. He grabbed at the thin, flimsy material at her hips and pulled, hard. She squeaked but it came free, tearing away from her skin, shredding in his fingers. He tossed the remains to the floor and then turned his attention to her reflection in the glass before him.

Her skin looked especially pale, almost luminescent in the dark, especially in contrast to her black boots and the black lace and ribbons on her thighs. Her full, round breasts swayed with each thrust and her eyes seemed to be feel of stars, the streetlights and lights from the surrounding high rises filling in the dark spaces. He wondered if anyone could see and didn’t care. Fuck them if they could. They’d just be jealous. He knew he would be if he was in their shoes.

“You feel amazing,” he told her, one hand on her shoulder, the other sliding around to her abdomen, where he pressed down on her pelvic bone, heightening the sensation for them both. He didn’t want to, didn’t want to miss a moment of watching her biting on her full bottom lip or squeezing her eyes shut and tipping her head back as she rode wave after wave of pleasure but it felt so damn good that he had to shut his own eyes and stop, just for a second or two otherwise he was going to lose control.

“Harder, shit Jonathan...fuck me harder.” He’d thought girls only said shit like that in pornos, especially the ones that Burish and Kaner liked with the really big fake titted girls but then he’d never been with a woman as uninhibited as Edie before. He liked that she would tell him what she needed, what she wanted. He wanted her to feel as good as he did so he obliged, grabbing her waist in both of his hands and leaning back so he could really drill her, so that he could take long, hard strokes, his body meeting hers’ with a loud slapping sound. “Yes! Fuck, yes!” she cried out, her hands pressed flat to the window but her body bent further forward so that she was pressing her ass back into him.

He watched her reflection in the mirror as she opened her mouth in a soundless cry and he ramped up the pace. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer and he was almost sure by the way he could feel her muscles sucking at his cock like a popsicle that she was almost ready to go too. He dug his fingers into her pale flesh and redoubled his efforts, slamming into her at a frenzied pace until he felt her body clamp down around his and then he was lost. With one more, hard, deep thrust, he called out her name and shoved himself as deep into her sweet, warm wet tunnel and let himself go.