Page 82 of Crave Me
Chapter Twenty-Five
Simon
I gripped my phone tighter and pushed down the overwhelming urge to growl into the phone. So far, talking Bennett into going along with my plan was proving difficult.
“You’re everything Chloe needs in a Dom. At least meet her. If she’s willing, you have my permission to play with her and see if she’s the kind of sub you’d like.”
“I don’t think you understand what you’re suggesting, Simon.”
“I know exactly what I’m suggesting.”
The taste of vomit rose in my throat, but after forty-eight hours of not being able to get the taste or smell of Chloe out of my mouth, my sheets, my house, my bed, or my mind, this was best. From the moment I met Chloe, I knew they would be perfect together. As soon as he saw her tight ass, he wouldn’t be able to resist. Once he made her laugh, he’d be a goner.
“I’m pretty sure you’re fucking up the best thing to happen to you.”
“I’m pretty sure she’ll be the best thing for you.”
Silence filled the line. We had a game in an hour and my focus was shit. I needed to not only get my head ready for the hockey game where we were starting the season playing our largest rival, but I needed to get everything squared away for Friday night.
“I’ll be there, Friday,” Bennett finally said.
“You won’t be sorry.”
“Yeah,” he laughed into the line, cold and not amused. “But I’m sure you will be.”
He wasn’t wrong. Ever since I pulled away from Chloe on Sunday I wanted to call her and make it right. But for once, I wasn’t going to be selfish. I wasn’t going to hurt her further just because I was an asshole who wanted her to myself. There were obstacles stopping us we’d never surpass and her family was the largest. They’d never accept us and eventually, the guilt and strain a relationship with me would cause, would ruin everything. It was for the best that I walked away, handed her to someone I trusted, someone capable of caring for her, even if the very idea made me want to ram my fist through a wall.
“Friday at ten.” I hung up without saying goodbye.
Tossing the phone onto my desk, I dropped my head into my hands and scrubbed forcefully. It took several moments for my breathing to slow down and once I had control of myself, my focus back on the game, I stood from the chair and shoved my arms into my suit coat.
I had a game to win. Kids to coach. A team to inspire and lead. A mind clouded with memories of delicious pussy and a spankable ass had to wait.
The kids were riled up. A mixture of nervous and excited adrenaline filled the air of the locker room amidst the sounds of teenage boys giving each other shit, locker doors slamming closed, and the rustle of everyone getting dressed into their gear.
By the time we took the ice for warm-ups, twenty minutes later, I had them composed and focused. They skated across the ice, running drills and slapping the puck into the net with perfection.
We stood on center ice for the national anthem, hockey helmets tucked under their left arms, my right hand over my chest like I’d always been taught. And as the closing tunes echoed in the high school ice arena rivaling any minor-league hockey arena, cool prickles trickled down my neck, like warm breath against my flesh.
I turned immediately, searched out the source of my sudden attention, and found her.
Chloe.
She was nine rows up behind the home team’s bench and her gaze was fixed directly on me.
Damn her, and Haley who was standing next to her. Chloe’s face was soft, mixed with apprehension and the way she knotted her fingers together in front of her told me she was nervous. Haley on the other hand, wore a smile rivaling a beauty pageant contestant being declared the next Miss America. She waved excitedly and I scowled at her, shaking my head. That little minx. Both of them. Haley because I knew it was she who convinced Chloe to come and Chloe for disobeying a very clear expectation I’d set for her.
I wanted to redden both their asses. But unfortunately, I could only do one.
And I would.
As soon as the game was over.
It stretched on forever. My boys played great. They skated across the ice like professionals, watched the penalties and by the time the third period came to a close, the high school crowd filled with parents and students and a few hometown fans were on their feet, stomping on the bleachers, cheering us on toward our first victory.
One minute left and we were up four-to-two. I couldn’t find a single thing to correct in how they played, although it wasn’t a surprise. Most of these kids had skated together since they were old enough to walk. As soon as they took their first steps, hockey diehards strapped miniature skates onto their children’s pudgy feet and took them to the ice. Their skill was off the charts and more than a few of them had signed letters of intent to play in colleges, some determined to be drafted straight into minors after graduation.
I couldn’t have been prouder of them by the time the final buzzer sounded, and the arena erupted into shouts and victory cheers.
