Chapter 19: Shutout: Chapter 19

You’d think having sex would reduce my horniness level, not increase it. That has not been the case. I feel like a goddamn teenager all over again.

As I tug off my shirt in the locker room for our afternoon skate, my phone lights up from the shelf in my stall. A rush runs through my body, and I immediately grab it.

Holy shit. I stand frozen to the spot, blinking at the screen for a good couple of seconds while I process her text. I can think of a couple other suggestions, starting with my mouth. Or my cock. Fuck, let’s go with both—in that order. For now, I’ll answer her question.

Damnit, she’s right. Dallas said he has some test to study for and Chase is finishing a paper. Why can’t they go do their work at the library like everyone else? Maybe I can convince them it’s a good idea; plant the seed somehow. Wishful thinking, I’m sure.

“Ended your dry spell, huh?” Chase remarks from behind me.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I lock my phone, whipping around to face him.

“What?” Did he see my screen? He’s like, six feet away. That’s not close enough to read such small text, is it?

“The scratch marks on your back?” He gestures at me like it should be obvious. Behind him, Dallas’s eyes widen, and he turns away, pretending to be busy with his gear. “They’re all over, dude.”

Scratch marks? I have no idea what he’s talking about. Craning my neck, I twist to look over my shoulder. Sure enough, there are a handful of red, raised streaks trailing along each side of my spine. I was so caught up in the moment, I didn’t feel Sera do it.

Didn’t realize how long I’d been standing here staring at my phone, either. I’m still in my street clothes, and nearly everyone else is dressed.

“Oh, right. I forgot about those.”

At least he has no way of knowing who made them.

Chase sits on the bench and reaches for his skates. “Speaking of that, Sera”—I nearly stroke out as his mention of her name—“is staying at Abby’s while we’re gone, so you’ll have the place all to yourself. You know, for you and whoever.”

Wait… what? She’s staying at Abby’s while Chase and Dallas are away? Why?

It’s a given I’d like the opportunity to fuck her without anyone else home. Beyond that, I hate the idea of her spending an entire weekend with that so-called friend. Between her losing track of Sera at that party and interrupting us the next day, Abby has earned a permanent spot on my shit list. Sera deserves so much better than that kind of treatment—but for some reason, she doesn’t seem to see it.

I run my thumb along the button on the side of my case, debating whether I should text and ask her what the deal is. Is it even any of my business? Before I can decide, my phone vibrates in my hand.

Thank fuck. The only thing on my to-do list this weekend is her.

With that settled, I give my head a figurative shake and hurriedly yank on my gear in an attempt to catch up to the rest of the team. It’s more obvious if I’m late than it is with the other players. Coach Miller won’t bag skate me, but he will tear me a new one.

Ezra Jameson saunters over to us and lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “Your sister is a dime, Carter.”

I stop cold, glancing up from tying from my skates. Dallas fastens his shoulder pad and silently mouths, “Here we go.” I’m not sure whether he’s more concerned about my reaction or Chase’s.

Chase’s dark eyes narrow, but he says nothing. Just glowers at Ezra. As a senior defenseman, Ezra could easily hold his own against the average player. At six-foot-three and one of the league’s most intimidating athletes, Chase would clobber him.

Pretending to be disinterested, I reach into my cubby for the rest of my equipment.

“I mean, respectfully.” Ezra reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Would it be okay if I asked her out?”

No, it fucking wouldn’t.

The protest comes from inside my head, not Chase’s mouth. Waiting for him to voice the same sentiment out loud, I fasten the buckles running the length of my left pad.

To my surprise, he merely shrugs and tips back his water bottle, swallowing. “All good, man.”

It’s like sandpaper against my brain.

I grit my teeth and look down, mentally kicking myself. Regardless of what happened between us last night, it’s not like I have some claim to Seraphina.

“Really?” Ezra studies him warily.

“Sure,” Chase says, his expression unreadable. “I know how to hide a body.”

Ezra laughs uneasily, but it dies on his lips when Chase doesn’t do the same.

“Noted.” He tosses him a salute and retreats to his corner of the dressing room.

“Carter.” Dallas nudges Chase with his elbow, lowering his voice. “I know you want to protect Sera, but you’ve got to let her live her life too.”

“Ezra is the kind of dude who’d rather die than commit to someone, Ward. I don’t want him within ten feet of my sister. Sera deserves someone who will treat her like a princess, not string her along.”

This doesn’t bode well for me, but I also don’t think everything is as black and white as Chase makes it out to be. Commitment can take different forms. Even if we’re not in a relationship, it’s not like I have any intention of sleeping with anyone else. If Sera and I are on the same page about what we’re doing, that’s all that matters. Right?

Somehow, I doubt he’d agree.

It’s been a long fucking day. Off-ice training, classes, team practice, goalie coaching. Now it’s time for the figurative cookie I’ve been waiting for: phone sex.

When I walk in the door after my evening training, Chase and Dallas are sitting in the living room playing Call of Duty. The volume is turned up ear-splittingly high, which I suppose is a bonus in this case. It’ll help muffle any sounds Seraphina makes while she gives me the best private show of my life.

There’s a huge explosion on-screen and Dallas curses into the microphone. “Fuck you, Holloway.”

Chase steals a glance at me, still shooting. “Hey, man.”

Guilt sparks in the back of my mind. It’s a little hard to look him in the face knowing I’m about to go jerk off to his sister.

I’d be lying if I said the whole secret thing wasn’t hot, though. That’s probably a little fucked up on my part, but it is what it is.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be doing homework?” I ask him.

“Yeah, but what are you gonna do?” He leans forward on the couch, squinting to concentrate as he aims a rocket launcher. “You want in?”

“Thanks, but I’m good. Still need to shower.” Sometimes, when the Boyd U ice is booked, Mark and I train at another municipal arena. It’s a lot older than our school’s facilities, and not nearly as clean. Ice is still ice, but the dressing rooms are gross.

I take the stairs two at a time and strip down in the bathroom. Like a creep, I snag Sera’s bottle of shampoo off the shelf and sniff it while the water heats up. The tropical scent invades my nostrils, and my cock stirs impatiently. God help me, I’ll never be able to smell coconut without getting turned on again.

It’s one of the quickest showers I’ve ever taken, efficient and to the point. I wash my hair and scrub myself down in record time, then turn off the water. Stepping out of the shower, I towel off my hair before wrapping it around my waist. Through the steam, my gaze falls to my phone on the counter. There are three missed calls from my father. It’s unusual for him to call more than once. I’m tempted to ignore him but thinking better of it, opt to call him back.

“Hey, Dad. Everything okay?”

“I just heard from Gary. New York is taking you for offseason training. It’s a go.”

“Really?” I ask, momentarily distracted from my one-track thoughts about Sera. This is huge. It’s also a little challenging to process with inadequate blood flow to my brain. Faintly, I know this means I’ll be away for most of the summer. The repercussions beyond that are escaping me. I’m not sure I’m grasping the enormity of this news.

“Management needs you to work on rebounds and lateral movements if you’re going to make the jump next year…” Clearly thrilled, he carries on for two solid minutes without any chance for me to interrupt him. I pull the phone away from my ear and shoot Sera a quick text.

Fuck. Me.

It’s a selfie of Sera kneeling in front of a mirror wearing nothing but tiny white booty shorts. She’s covering her breasts with one arm with her back arched and her round ass sticking out, silky pink hair around her shoulders. I want nothing more than to march upstairs, throw her down on the bed, and fuck her until she can’t walk straight tomorrow.

“Listen, Dad,” I cut him off mid-sentence as I walk into my room. Part of me feels bad because he’s so excited, but a bigger part of me—the one below my waist—needs to wrap this up. “That all sounds great, but I have a big test tomorrow that I need to study for. Mind if I call you back tomorrow so we can talk about it some more?”

“Sure thing,” he says. “Proud of you, son.”

“Thanks. Talk soon.”

Towel still wrapped low around my hips, I ease onto the bed to FaceTime Seraphina. My heart thuds as I hit send, and I tell myself it’s impatience rather than nerves.

After two rings, her face pops up on screen.

“Hi.” She gives me a soft smile, resting against her headboard with a stack of pillows propped behind her. There’s music playing low in the background. I want to say it’s Taylor Swift, but I’m not certain.

“Hey.” My eyes flit over her face, taking in her gold-flecked eyes and perfect, full mouth. Even though we live together, she’s so stunning it leaves me a little awestruck every time. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.

At the bottom of the frame, I catch a sliver of white tank top that tells me she’s gotten dressed. Shit.

“Sorry, Tink. My dad called me three times in a row, and I had to take it. I thought it might be an emergency.”

“Was it?” Her brows pull together, expression sobering.

“It wasn’t.” I drop my voice. “Did you wait for me?”

She bites back a grin. “No.”

All the blood in my body rushes straight to my dick at the mental image of Seraphina getting herself off upstairs in her room. With everyone else home, the staircase represents an impossible divide. It’s divine agony knowing she’s so close yet so far away.

“You gonna get off again for me?”

“Hmm…” she brings a finger to her plush lips, pretending to think. “Maybe if you ask nicely.”

Let’s get one thing straight. I have never—not once—used the word “please” in the bedroom. But I’d sell my soul for a front row seat to a show with Sera and her sex toy. I’ll get down on my knees and beg if I have to.

Groaning, I grip myself over the terrycloth. “Fuck, Ser. I’m so hard for you. Please let me watch you play with that pretty pussy of yours.”

“Since you said please…” Seraphina’s hand disappears off screen. She lets out a breathy sigh and her eyelids flutter, forehead crinkling. I’m mesmerized; entranced. I’ve never seen anything more sensual in my life.

“That’s it,” I praise. “Just like that.” Keeping my eyes fixed on her, I untie the towel with a single tug. My dick springs free impatiently, and my fist wraps around the base. Having her mouth or pussy would be even better, but this is pretty goddamn good.

She pouts. “I wish you were touching me.”

“You have no idea how badly I want to touch you.” My voice is hoarse. “Let me see your pussy, baby.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, the tiny part of my brain that’s still functional wonders if I’m escalating too quickly. After several hours of foreplay via sext message, I’m so fucking keyed up that I don’t have a single shred of self-control left.

My worries immediately ease as the camera pans down, moving past the swells of her breasts straining against her thin white crop top and the dip of her smooth, bare stomach. Little white shorts rest low on her hips, obscuring what I want to see most.

She’s a fucking tease, and I love it.

“Ditch the shorts, Tinker Bell.”

Seraphina brings the camera back up to her face and tsks, smirking. “So bossy.”

Placing the phone down on the bed, she gives me a full view of her body. The bedding rustles, camera jostles as she lifts her hips and shimmies the waistband down, deliberately moving as slowly as possible. My dick hardens even more with anticipation. I watch the material slide lower and lower, leaving me with a view of the cleft between her closed thighs.

“Good girl. Now spread your legs and show me how wet you are.”

I watch as she parts her knees, exposing all of herself to me. Her pretty cunt is swollen and ready, her slit begging for me to slide my cock inside.

Cursing, I tighten my grip on my shaft. “Your pussy is perfect, Ser. So fucking perfect.”

Her fingertips circle her clit, purple-pink folds glistening with her arousal. When she whimpers, it’s the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard. Tension coils in my core as I come dangerously close to unfurling. I stop abruptly, pinching my cock at the base to hold myself off. No way am I coming before the grand finale.

Seraphina juts her chin at the screen. “Don’t I get to see?”

Well, fuck. If that’s what she wants, I’m not shy. I tilt the phone to show her what she’s doing to me. My cock is engorged and leaking in my hand, ready to explode.

Her teeth snag her bottom lip, pupils dilating. “Damn,” she murmurs, staring at the screen. “I wish we were alone.”

I husk a low laugh and set down the phone like she did, creating equal viewing opportunity. “Me too.”

Seraphina gives me a coy look, but I can tell she’s only playing shy. “Do you want me to get my toy?”

“You know I do.”

A hot pink dildo comes into the frame, her slender fingers wrapped around the shaft. It’s a generous size—though using her hand for scale, it’s not as big as yours truly—and realistic, with fake veins running the length and balls hanging down. I bite down on my lip as she brings it to her pussy and rubs it along her slick entrance, teasing without penetrating herself.

“Fuck yourself with it and pretend it’s me,” I tell her.

“I always pretend it’s you.”

Those words nearly undo me on the spot.

A low, tortured growl reverberates in my chest as the pink silicone slips inside of her, slowly disappearing.

“Look how pretty you are taking that dick, baby. You look even better when you’re taking mine.” I slowly start to stroke myself again, imagining it’s my cock inside her instead. Remembering how tight and wet she was when I sank inside of her, and the way her walls clenched around me as she came.

“Oh god.” Seraphina lets out a breathy moan, and the way she’s squirming tells me she’s getting close. “That’s good. Keep talking, please.”

“When I get you alone this weekend, I’m going to eat your pussy until your legs start to shake and you’re begging me for release, and then I’m going to make you come so hard you make a dripping mess.” A drop of pre-cum beads at the tip of my cock and I brush my thumb over it as I keep stroking. My tempo increases, and she follows my lead, thrusting the toy faster. “And once I’m finished, I’m going to kiss you so you can taste how sweet you are.”

She sucks in a sharp breath, her cheeks flushed. “Then what?”

“I’m going to fuck that perfect little pussy like it’s mine.”

Her mouth falls open in a silent cry and her back arches off the bed, her head tipping back against the pillow. I follow right behind her as my hips jerk, warm release coating my hand. All of the tension that’s been brewing between us explodes in a blur of moans and breaths, whimpers and pleas.

It’s good—too fucking good, and exactly what I needed.

Seraphina picks up her phone and I do the same, putting us face to face on screen.

“Hi.” Her voice is breathy, her expression sated. A subtle sheen glistens across her forehead, her espresso eyes glassy and dazed. It’s nothing compared to what she’s going to look like when I’m finished with her this weekend. I’m going to fucking ruin her, and then I’m going to do it all over again.

“That’s going to live rent-free in my head for the rest of my life, Ser.”

She giggles. “It better.”

The post-orgasm haze clears completely, and my thought process returns to normal as my vitals regulate. It hits me that I don’t want to end our call. What I really want is to have her beside me, and I hate that I can’t.

“Time out?” I ask her.

“Deal.”

Setting down my phone, I quickly clean up and get dressed while she does the same. When I pick it up, she crawls onto her bed and gets beneath the covers, pulling them up to her chest. Her dark brown eyes fix on the screen, her expression pensive.

“So…” she trails off.

“So,” I say, leaning back against my pillows. “Tell me about your day, Tink.”