I remember how it felt. Will it be as good as that?
Mercy snaps his hips back and shoves in again. My body sucks him in, greedy for him. Obscene squelching sounds fill the empty space. When I moan, his hand is quick to muffle my mouth. Whoops! Yeah, maybe I’m not quite ready for the whole hockey team to hear me yet.
It’s easy to let go as he takes control, rutting like a beast, using my body, taking what he wants. My ass clenches around him and my body shakes with what’s gotta be the world’s most explosive orgasm. Cum spills into my jock. Merc’s not too far behind me, throwing his head back, the longer locks of his hair whipping and spraying sweat onto the mirror.
From this angle, I get to see him moan without sound, letting out only sharp, stilted exhales as he erupts with pleasure.
I hang my head to catch my breath and recover from the most intense sex I’ve had since … well, the first time Merc and I were together. I let him clean us up and set my clothes back to rights, except for my hockey pants—he takes those off. My body suddenly remembers that it’s played three intense periods of hockey and I could fall asleep against him.
“No, you don’t, Leslie. Sit.” He pats the counter and I’m glad to rest there, leaning—carefully—against the mirror, watching him remove my skates and then undo the tape holding my socks and shin pads together. He unlocks and leans out the door. “I need pants and shoes for Leslie.”
Without having to do a thing, I’m changed into my sweats and laced into my runners. “Ugh, you’re gonna make me do the bike now, aren’t you?”
“Sure am. In a second.” He steps between my legs. His white cotton button-up is soaked to see-through. He takes my hand, and a beautiful vulnerability has him by the balls. “I won’t share you.”
I laugh. “Not sharing you either. I still might kill Coach Crawfield when I can move my limbs again.”
He smiles, but then he frowns.
“What?”
“I know you’re not ready for a relationship, Leslie.” He moves my gross sweaty hair from my forehead.
I’m not. Even mind-numbing sex can’t change that. “I still have another obligation. Kinda. It’s complicated.”
“Are you in some arranged marriage I should know about?”
Rhett probably thinks we are. “I have unfinished business with someone. We’re not together, but I’ll have to deal with him at some point. Can we exclusively fuck? That on the table? My generation calls it a situationship.”
“I’m only twelve years older than you.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Exclusive fucking and none of that bullshit from today either.”
“None of them actually want to fuck me, Merc. It was just to grind your gears. Thought you’d figured that out.”
“Maybe not all of them, but at least fifty percent of the team wants to fuck you. It might not have been real for you, but it was for them, and it was enough for me to pestle holes in my teeth.”
“All right, all right. No more flirting with the whole team, uh, but my friends and I kinda share one bed just so you know.”
“Do you wear clothes to bed?”
God, no. But that look says I’d better start. “I’ll order eighty pairs of pajamas from Amazon, how’s that?”
He nods. “Then I can live with it. Now, up. You need to get on a bike before your muscles seize up.”
“Wait, there’s something inquiring minds need to know?”
“What, baby?”
Wow, he goes from beast mode to sugary sap. It’s kind of adorable. “How the fuck did you have a packet of lube and a condom on you? That’s some serious boy-scout-level sex preparedness.”
He smirks, pulling me off the counter. “Vending machine. We’re not the first to fuck in this washroom, and we won’t be the last.”
Chapter11
What If?
Mercy’s Log
MERCY
