Wednesday, September 21, 2011

chapter twenty-two

Tazer gives me the look.  The one that says he’s knows what’s best for me, even if it’s going to hurt.  The extra sprints, the bag skates; that stare says more than any lecture he could ever give and I’ve heard it so many times.

Only this time he’s leaning over Kristen.  I bristle at the thought of him invading my space - maybe knowing he wouldn’t dare, maybe knowing that he could if he wanted to.  He would be better for her, he wouldn’t have to work so hard to be the kind of boyfriend she deserves.

Jonathan would never have to ask her twice.

So I interrupt them, wind my arm possessively around Kristen’s waist and pull her in close.  Jon leads the team by example and he’ll do the same here.  I have more than one standard to live up to.

“Dance with me,” I say to her.

The floor is crowded but we carve out a tiny space - the smaller, the better.  She moves right into me without hesitation.  Kristen’s hands rest on my hips but I keep my hands knitted behind her neck, never letter her more than a few inches away.  She dances well, rocking and dropping to the bass that pounds through the floor.  I don’t know the song; I can’t even hear it.  I just feel the pulse and know she’s moving against me.

“Is that how your friends keep you in line?” She nods toward where I’m sure Toews is watching us, watching her and thinking that she’s wasted on me.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warn her jokingly.  If she were really thinking it, she wouldn’t be saying it.

“Hmmmm,” she smiles.  “Too late.”

All it takes is a tug to pull her in.  My mouth covers hers and she doesn’t resist me.  Her kiss has never turned me away.  Instead she closes the space between us and rolls her hips into mine so firmly that I have to break away.

Luckily I’ve only had one drink, so she’ll know I mean exactly what I say.

“It’s midnight.”


I nod.  “Means I haven’t asked you yet today.”

Once a day, every day for the last two weeks I’ve asked Kristen to be my girlfriend.  Every day she says it’s not time yet.  I’ll keep waiting, but I will always ask.

Her chest grazes mine as she swivels her lower body against me, in perfect rhythm to the music.  I run my hands over her flat sides and rest them where her hipbones fit into my palms, my fingers brush against her ass as she moves.  It’s the lowest my hands have been in weeks.  But it makes her turn her face up and then my hands are moving on their own, until they hold handful of her hair and her face in close to mine.

We come to a complete stop: still and kissing.  She gives what she gets - her lips part and that soft pink tongue slides against mine.  Old Me roars.  New Me whimpers.  In real life it’s all I can do to keep kissing her back.  Her dark hair is so silky and thick, it’s like a real hold on the girl who always runs.  But tonight she’s right here with me.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” I say before my lips move down her neck.


The words are a reflex; the obvious answer to the full canon assualt my body fires toward his.  I don’t even think them, just hear them.  They sound true.  So I repeat them.


Patrick lifts his head from my shoulder, where his lips were signing his name.  Surprise is all over his face.  “You will?”

What a silly way to ask, I think.  It’s like asking me to go steady and wear his high school ring.  But after everything, basics are best for me and Patrick.  I may be soaked from the waist down but a couple of burn marks will leave you careful about touching hot surfaces.

“Yes,” I tell him again.  Third time’s a charm.  And so he stops dancing, stands up straight and kisses me deeply.

“I won’t let you down again,” he promises.

I brush my mouth gently over the perfect Cupid’s bow rise of his lower lip.  “I trust you, Patrick.  Everybody makes mistakes.”

His blue eyes are so serious they’re dark.  “Not that kind.  Not anymore.”

I know he means it.  It doesn’t mean he’ll never screw up again but he wants to be good.  And I want to be good for him.  The season is coming and we’d both do better to be excited than afraid.  I slide my hand down his arm, appreciating the heavy bulge of muscle, and twist my fingers into his.  Time to make this official.

“Take me home.”

I go right for the door.  Kristen giggles but doesn’t protest as we leave without a word to anyone.  The valet has my car up in seconds and I squeal out of the parking lot.  Adrenaline pumps through my system.  I’ve waited and I’ve won and there is a prize to be claimed.  

But the hallway to my door slows me and once we’re inside, I wander toward the huge windows that overlook the Chicago skyline.  A lot of girls have been through this apartment.  I used to bring them here to showoff, as if that mattered when they were already stripping naked and moaning.  It was more about inflating my own ego, but it sold me out. I gave everything away, even my own little private space, for the thrill of the moment.

Then I stopped.  I hadn’t brought a girl here in a long time before Kristen came over.  And that night she became the first girl to ever just sleep in my bed.  Of course the morning had been a different story.  Then she’d come back on that night two weeks ago when she agreed to give me a second chance.  That made her one of only a few girls to ever be here twice.

Now she was here a third time.  That might be a world record.

Her heels stop clicking; she’s watching me from across the room. I don’t need to turn to know how she’ll look in the soft recessed lighting that I left on and the twinkle of the city outside.  Her watery silk dress will catch the shimmer, her skin will sheen smooth.  My mouth will go dry and I’ll lose the ability to tell her anything.  But I want to tell her everything.

“Hey,” she says, right behind me.  Her arms twine around my waist, her shoulders press below mine. Those heels are gone and she snuck up on me.

Kristen holds me from behind, her cheek pressed to the back of my neck.  It’s like being the little spoon standing up, feeling protected and stronger because someone’s holding you up.  I turn and bring her to my chest, kiss the top of her head.

“There’s something I want to give you.”

It hurts to let her go, but I cross quickly to the fridge and pull out a small plastic container.  I went through one of these a day over the last two weeks but I am grateful for it now.  Inside is yet another perfect lily.

She ducks her head when she sees it, smiling shyly and looking away.  I go back to her and hold it up between us.  There are a lot of things I’ve already said - I’m sorry, I won’t mess up again - and a lot of things I haven’t said yet - I hope you’re as scared as I am, I think I’m falling in love with you.  Somewhere in between are exactly the right words for this moment. Kristen gently brushes a fingertip over one soft flower petal, waiting, then does it perfectly for me.
“Patrick,” she says quietly.  “Are you going to kiss me or what?”

My body aches where his lips graze my skin, kissing softly over the curve of my ribcage and down the hollow inside my hip.  Those strong arms and both hands hold me down firmly while he takes his sweet time tasting every inch of my skin.  The soft tip of his tongue drag up, leaving a fever trail, and circles the nipple of one bare breast.  I rise to meet him.

We made it to the bedroom where he stripped me down like unwrapping a present on Christmas morning.  Patrick and I have been urgent and angry and sorry and surprised but we have never been gentle with each other.  Now as he nudges my thighs apart with his knee and teases the tip of his cock along my throbbing entrance, I’m not sure I can handle the slow burn.

When he opens me with hardly any pressure, it ripples through my body like an earthquake.  Barely pushing, he takes my body inch by glorious inch, his mouth on mine to swallow my sounds.  I push my ass hard into the mattress to keep from twisting myself down onto him. I feel ready to explode.

His first stroke is perfect, filling and dizzying.  The next makes a matching set - slow and steady.  My heart flutters like a bird in my chest.  Patrick passes his mouth to my neck, creating hot spots where none existed before.  His heavy, strong form holds me still as he takes his sweet damned time.  The thick length of his cock stirs my body like he’s baking a cake and can’t wait to lick the bowl.  I move my hands over his sculpted back, feeling every muscle as he drags his body along mine.

Patrick puts his lips to my ear.  “This is all I want.”

For the first time in forever I feel sure about what I’m doing.  Patrick could have anyone and he wants me - just me.  That is enough to heal most of the wounds left by my last relationship.  I know that Patrick isn’t perfect, but nor is he the callous jerk I assumed.  He’s not the fame and the game and the craziness.  He’s just human, just like me.  We’re here together in the dark and nothing else matters.

“I know,” I whisper back.



  1. So good and I wish it wasn't over :( but who's next!?

  2. So amazing, as usual of course!!! :-) Can't wait to see who you'll choose next!

  3. Glad it was a happy (or alluding to happy) ending. Also glad she made him work for it, it was good for him :)

  4. I love Love LOVED this story. You've managed to make me like Patrick Kane :P I can't wait to see what your next story is about.

  5. I love, love, love your writing! It is amazing. I am not a fan of most of the guys you write about but you make me love them!

  6. I hate this ending. Only because it is in fact the ending of course. love all of it.