The Game Changer

by Lana Ferguson

I don’t know when I actually start seeing color again, when sounds start bleeding back in, but when I finally manage to look down between my legs, Lila’s teasing tongue at the crown of my cock and her blown pupils peering ba...

“Are you trying to kill me?” I nibble at her earlobe, enjoying her shaky exhale that comes after. “Did you want them to hear? You want them to come in here and see you with my cock in your mouth?”

“You want everyone coming in here and seeing exactly who you belong to?” “Ian,” she breathes. “Maybe they still will,” I purr. “Maybe I can make you scream loud enough that everyone comes running.”

I start to pump my fingers in and out, imagining that it’s my cock sinking inside her, laving my tongue against her clit as I draw it deeper into my mouth, as deep as it will go.

My cock twitches with interest as she starts to roll her hips, bracing herself with one hand on the bench as she rides my face, chasing after the sensations of my mouth devouring her pussy like it’s my last fucking meal. And it feels like it is. Every single time with Lila feels like some sort of life-altering experience—the world fading away outside of the way she feels, the way she tastes, just her.

It’s just a precursor to the trembling that starts in her limbs—her pussy contracting around my fingers and a warm gush flooding my lips as I lap a long, wet stripe between her legs to collect every drop of my reward. I don’t stop until she’s forcibly pulling me away, coming easily when she tugs me up by the hair, bracing myself with my hands on the bench so that I can capture her mouth as she shivers through the aftershocks of her orgasm.

“Perfect,” I whisper in her ear after. “You’re fucking perfect.” She kisses my cheek lazily, her lips lingering as her fingers trail down my ribs, the tickling sensation doing nothing to stanch my growing arousal, my building need to have her again that I’m trying to tamp down. At least for now. Especially when I can hear showers beginning to shut off around us, voices fading away. I know if we stay in here for much longer, people will start to wonder what the fuck I’m doing in here.

“I still have to shower.” Her smile is impish. “That means I get to wash you.” “There’s no way I won’t get hard again if you do that.” She pushes up on her toes, her lips feathering against mine as she whispers, “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

“Most of these guys I haven’t spent any real time with outside of the rink since I got traded.” “So? People fall out of touch all the time. It just means you’ve got a good place to pick back up from.”

“I wish everyone were that easy to please.” “I don’t know…You do a pretty good job pleasing me.” He glances at me from the side, with heat in his eyes, the weight of his heavy stare something I can feel all the way down to my toes. “Be good, and I’ll please you again after this.” “Promises, promises,” I laugh.

Sure, there can be no doubt that Ian is Bradley Chase’s son with their matching hair and builds and similar features—but there’s a coldness to Bradley. Something opposite of the warmth Ian radiates. He must get that from his mom.

“My romance with Ian’s father was such a whirlwind—” She gives me a pointed look. “I mean, the owner’s daughter and the star player? It was the talk of the town for such a long time. I’ve always wanted that kind of love for my son.” Yuck. If she only knew.

I linger at the edge of the tiny crowd, content to watch him, but I catch his eye amid the conversation, noticing the glint there, the hint of solidarity that only exists between the two of us. It makes me feel a bit surer about my blurted acknowledgment of what we are. Makes me realize how good it felt for someone else to know, someone who had no stake in what we are other than being happy that we are. It makes me want to feel that a hundred times over, to let the entire world know.

“Anyone who knows you,” I tell him firmly, “knows who you are. No one who really knows you could ever think you’re capable of the things people have said about you.” He nods, swallowing thickly. “I wish I had as much faith in me as you do.”

“Hm.” I throw caution to the wind, pushing up on my toes and brushing my lips gently against his in something that can barely be called a kiss but lights me up inside all the same. “Go win your game, and we’ll talk all about it.” “Okay,” he sighs against my lips. I step back, beaming at him before I land a hard slap on his ass. “Get out there, Cupcake. I’ll be watching.” The heat in his eyes as he leaves me could melt the entire rink.

“Your guy could handle himself,” Ava says, snorting. “He’s practically Wreck-It Ralph with red hair.” She cocks her head, watching Ian as he blocks Connors on the other team from shooting a goal past Lyle. “Now I’m imagining him in overalls.” “Stop imagining Ian in things,” I hiss, elbowing her in the side. “I’m single,” she huffs. “Let me live vicariously through the good dick you’re getting.”

“You’ve spent the entire game watching Ian like he’s got a golden dick and shits saltwater taffy.” “Well, that’s utterly awful.” “But not incorrect,” Ava laughs.

The pure joy on Ian’s face as he celebrates with his temporary teammates is infectious, and I feel it bubbling up inside me as if sharing it with him, ecstatic that he can have this moment after all the stressing he did over this game. I notice his head moving when he breaks away from the other guys, his neck stretching as he peers into the stands as if searching. He skates closer to the rails as he continues to crane his neck this way and that, and it’s then I realize that it’s me he’s looking for.

“You won,” I tell him, beaming. “You’re supposed to be celebrating.” His smile makes my chest hurt, but his words make it feel like it’s too full. “You’re the only person I want to celebrate with.” “Yeah?” “Always.”

He doesn’t hesitate to melt into the kiss, his fingers sliding over my knee and squeezing me there, tingles sparking along my skin where he touches me and spreading to fill me up. I realize all at once that there’s no question. Not really.

Because I still want him, I still dream of him, I still burn for him—and I absolutely love him too.

That maybe I can stop dwelling on the opinions of strangers and cling harder to the ones that come from people who actually matter. An idea that is a lot easier to entertain with the encouragement of the woman currently pulling me into her apartment.

“You were fantastic,” she’s saying between kisses as I kick her door shut. I grin against her mouth, my hands circling her waist to pull her closer. “Yeah?” “It’s hot watching you play.” “Does someone have dreams of being a puck bunny?” “Just yours,” she hums.

She’s an absolute vision of soft swells, gentle curves, and long, silky waves spread out around her head, and the way she bites her lip when she looks up at me, looking so excited just to have me, sends a thrill coursing through my body.

“Fuck, Lila,” I murmur, “I can never decide where I want to touch you first. You’re too tempting.” Her lips curl. “Get down here and decide as you go.”

Every part of her drives me wild—from her full, pink mouth to her wide, soft hips down to her cute, stubby toes. Sometimes when I look at her, it feels like Lila Baker was made just for me.

“Look at you.” I slide my body against hers, grabbing a handful of one of her perfect tits and sliding my tongue across the column of her throat. “You’re a fucking dream, Lila.”

“Just thinking about fucking you raw has me wanting to come, Lila.” “Fuck,” she whimpers, squeezing me. I’m moving to draw my hand back out of the drawer with every intention of doing just that, my fingers brushing against soft silicone that gives me pause. I peer over into her drawer, biting my lip as I notice what’s waiting there.

“Old faithful.” “Really?” “Never let me down yet.” I run my finger over the small opening at the head, pushing it inside and feeling the soft pad at the bottom. “And what does this do, Lila?” “You know what it does,” she says with narrowed eyes.

She gasps when I wrap my lips around her nipple, sucking it deep into my mouth and swirling my tongue before releasing it with a wet sound. “It…?” “Sucks on my clit,” she says breathlessly.

“Hm.” I trail my lips over her belly, ducking my head between her legs and licking at her slit before doing exactly that, pulling at the sensitive bud with my lips for only a moment before letting go. “Like that?” “Fuck, yes.”

“I want you to gush for me.” “Ian,” she practically whines. “On your stomach, sweet girl.” I nip at her lower lip, placing the toy in her hand. “I want that pretty ass in the air.”

“Jesus, you’re already so wet for me,” I purr, sliding two fingers between her legs to tease her slick folds. I ease them inside her gently, feeling a pulse of pre-come wet the front of my briefs as her walls ripple around the digits, imagining what it will feel like when I push inside her without anything between us. “You want my cock here?” “Yes,” she sighs, pushing back on my fingers. “More.”

“So fucking sweet.” She keeps watching me as I finally start working my underwear down my thighs, slipping out of them and tossing them away until there’s nothing between us but the cool air and our skin. I actually shake when I tilt my hips to let my hard cock rock against the furrow of her ass, squeezing her to envelop me tighter as I imagine taking her there too. God, I want to own every part of her. Want to mark every inch until there’s no doubt that she’s mine. I’ve never felt the level of possession I feel for Lila, not for anyone else.

“Fuck,” I hiss, teasing her by barely dipping in before pulling right back out. “There’s no way I’m going to last long when I get inside you. You’re too fucking wet, too hot.” “Stop teasing and fuck me,” she grits out, her fingers clutching the comforter. I give her ass a sharp smack, shuddering at the low moan that tears out of her. “Settle, brat.” I nudge at her entrance again. “Turn the toy on and use it. I want you messy.”

“There you go,” I coo, rocking against her swollen pussy. “This pretty cunt is practically dripping for me.” I push ever so slightly, watching her body give around the head of my cock as just the tip presses inside her. “I could slide right in.” “Do it,” she moans. “Please, Ian. Need you.”

“Fuck,” I groan in a drawn-out exhale. My hips meet her ass, her body accepting all of me, and the feeling of being surrounded in the tight, wet heat of her without any barriers is almost too much. “You feel so good, Lila.” “Move,” she urges, her pussy fluttering around my length as the toy hums between her legs. “Fuck me.”

I grip her tightly by the waist as I draw out, watching every inch of my glistening shaft slide out reluctantly, her body gripping me like it doesn’t want to let me go. I let the head of my cock linger at her entrance for only a moment when I’m all the way out, sucking down an unsteady breath before slamming back inside with a grunt. “Yes,” she gasps. “Fuck, yes.” I can hear how wet she is, each thrust offering up a filthy sound as her arousal coats my thighs.