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The fact that Britta is four million miles out of my league hasn’t stopped me from threatening my teammates with certain death if they ever asked her out again, however.
My mother raised me to be an unholy terror on the ice but a gentleman as soon as I take off my skates. Like a fucking Canadian should be, she’d say.
I’ve had a lot of dreams about tucking that ass into my lap while my fingers are busy down the front of her shorts. Rubbing her panties until she’s wet and wiggling around—
My husband is ripped to shreds. And thick with it. Uhh. Daddy? questions my brain.
She tilts her head back, blissfully lost in her thoughts, and I can’t help myself: I use the moment to look at her tits. Fuck. The way I want to suck them. Just ride my tongue all over those nipples and draw hard on them when she least expects it. I’d get two fingers inside her pussy and keep them tucked in extra deep, too, so I could feel her getting wetter right at the source. I haven’t been with a lot of women, not compared to some of the guys on the team, but the times I have spent being intimate with another person? I’ve paid close attention. Enough to know exactly how to satisfy Britta.
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“Can you please try and piece together what you’re feeling and communicate it to me?”
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll even pretend we’re just friends while I’m nine deep, ringing your bell.”
How is everything in the world not canceled right now? Are people still traveling, going to work, and eating in restaurants when my wife looks this hot?
I’m obsessed with eating her out. And I’ve never even gotten the opportunity.
Can you not see that I’m starving to death for you? Can’t you tell I missed you so horribly that my family couldn’t even make me smile?
“Do you want to be in trouble with the hockey gods?” I press my mouth against her ear. “You’ve got one right here, sweetheart.”
“Made you off limits, Britta. It’s a rule that is rarely invoked among the group. But once it’s done, it’s fucking done.” He leans over until our foreheads are a breath apart. “If you don’t like it, then stop being my dream girl.”
“You don’t have to stop me from looking at anyone but you, because I don’t want to look in the first place. Put parental controls on my phone, my laptop, block porn sites. Track my location. Lock my dick in a cage. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you realize I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here. I’ll make you feel secure until you realize it’s only ever going to be you.”
Part of me wants to laugh out loud because the very idea that I could even consider another woman is so far outside the realm of possibility, she has no idea. What women? Where? I’m blind to every last one of them. There’s only Britta.
“Learn to love me too,” I demand, in my own vulnerable state where my head and heart and lust are in a jumble, and I have zero control over what comes out of my mouth. “Love me like I love you.”
