Chapter 4

There's one great thing about going to bed with two sexually insatiable professional athletes.

And that would be, waking up with two sexually insatiable professional athletes. 

I’d expected them to go back home to their wives after we’d been at the rink but Kev seemed in a particularly good mood, too energetic to send home to Katie so we’d gone to True Confections for desert and Kess ordered the biggest piece of cake I’d ever seen in my life and it wasn’t even to share. 

Just sitting between them eating my chocolate cake with Grand Marnier mousse, listening to them talk about their teammates, about last year and this year and their kids was an eye opener. They held nothing back, like they’d known me forever and it was okay to tell me all their secrets. I was honoured. I also fell a little in love with each of them. 

Then I’d thought they’d sneak home to their own beds, to kiss their kids goodnight and hug their wives. I was wrong then too.

I think it was Ryan who suggested round two. I almost wanted to groan. I was a little tender and by then a little tired but I wasn’t sure of myself enough to send them home if they wanted to come home with me. I just hadn’t expected them to stay.

I awoke in the midst of a mind numbing orgasm with Juice's head between my thighs and had no time to gather my wits before Kes nudged him aside and rang my bell again.

Neither of them seemed in much of a hurry to leave so we played around in the shower, ate some breakfast, and finished the morning watching the Dolphins take on the Giants. It was the first time I had ever enjoyed a football game in my life. Of course, I watched most of it either upside down or with my face pressed against the couch cushions...,good times.

Kevin checked out first, dragging me to the door for a goodbye kiss that curled my toes. "I'm gonna request a key," he announced with a wink and then closed the front door behind him.

I floated back to the living room and collapsed next to Kes who lifted his arm so I could snuggle in close. We had a brief tussle over possession of the remote while he pretended not to hear his cell phone ringing again, as it had been nearly all night. It never occurred to any of us to turn the damned thing off.

Now, he sighed heavily and spoke softly, lips moving against the crown of my head. "She wasn't always like this, you know."

“Well I think I can understand, especially since she used to me, which you could have warned me about by the way,” I reminded him, digging my elbow into his ribs. He pretended it hurt. I’ve seen the beatings he regularly takes out on the ice. I didn’t believe him but I didn’t say so either. 

“She’s got to learn,” he shrugged. I thought he was going to leave it at that but then he sighed and leaned over to press his lips to my cheek. “She’s my baby momma and I love her but this is part of the job too and she knows it. We tried to go without and Juice’s balls nearly exploded from lack of use.” I snickered at the visual in my head but he had a serious point and so I asked what I’d been dying to ask since Holly had picked me out at the bar.

“So...this is like a perk? Like a bonus cheque or overtime pay?” Ryan smirked and then shrugged. 

“Yeah kinda I guess. I mean...well put it this way, guys that do this, professional athletes have a kind of high testosterone count or whatever which means we have energy to burn, plus we tend to be kind of risk takers but we have all these clauses in our contract about no bungee jumping, sky diving, rock climbing, y’know, shit that gets your rocks off so...sex is a kind of safer outlet and we could be picking up pucks at a bar but the league in its infinite wisdom decided paying one or two women per team is cheaper than paying out for a whole lot of penicillin and DNA tests.” The explanation made perfect sense so I shrugged, cuddled into his side and did my best to ignore the fact that his phone was ringing again. 

I was going to have avoid his wife for like...ever.

________________________________________________________________

I was pretty sure that I had over packed but it was my first road trip with the team, we were going to be gone for over two weeks and even after receiving a "check list" helping hand from Holly, I still didn't feel prepared. 

Nevertheless, I was on the plane and strapped in, ready to fly the friendly skies on the team shuttle.

The fact that I was a terrible flier never came up during the interview process and I hadn’t really been able to get my head around the whole having sex with a whole team of guys so I hadn’t given it much thought, until now.

"Can I switch you seats?" The voice above me totally caught me off guard since I was studiously reading every word of the pamphlet marked "safety features" I'd pulled from the seat in front of me. 

 

"Huh?" 

Chris made an apologetic face and tapped the seat number identified on the overhead compartment. "It's ridiculous, I know. But there are very few superstitions I'm a slave to and unfortunately for you, this is one of them."

Right. Naturally. 

"Um... sure, yeah." Because we hadn't taken off yet, I was just about confident enough that moving around the cabin wouldn't throw off the balance of the plane and stepped into the aisle so that he could have the window seat. 

"Thanks," he grinned and immediately reclined the seat, stretching out. 

My phobia let up long enough for me to appreciate the view and I found myself staring at the sliver of skin that was showing above the waistband of his black pants the one with a ripple of his crazy toned abs but with the goody trail that had ‘Follow the Yellow Brick Road’ playing in my head. That one inch of skin had me distracted long enough to forget that I had planned to request a lifejacket from the flight attendant. 

"'Scuse me, Penny," a warm hand settled on the curve of my hip and I glanced up to see Alex Edler smiling shyly at me, trying to edge past. 

"Oh! Sorry!" I immediately plopped down next to Higgy and fastened my seat belt, anxious to get in the air despite how much I hated it. 

I forced myself to concentrate on other things since I couldn't keep staring at Chris without looking like a complete cock starved loony tune. The guys were all on board and settling down so the cabin door was being sealed. 

As we began to taxi along the runway I could have proudly reported to anyone interested that there were 40 windows on the left side of the plane and 43 on the right. And 14 dents in the ceiling. 11 scuff marks on the overhead bin doors. And it was approximately 7 feet to my closest emergency exit. 

Before I actually hyperventilated, I closed my eyes and attempted to take some deep breaths. At least with my eyes closed, if I passed out due to lack of oxygen, people would just assume I was sleeping until I finally came back around which I’ve been told involves flailing, gasping and sometimes punching the person closest to me. I was just thinking about whether or not I had the breath to warn him when warm, strong fingers slid across my hand and peeled the armrest free of my white-knuckled grip. 

My eyes shot open to see Chris watching me thoughtfully as he laced our fingers together lightly.

"You could have said something," he murmured under the roar of the engines. 

I didn't bother trying to act as if I didn't know what he was talking about. From experience, I knew that I was probably as pale as paste and wide eyed in a completely unattractive way. "It's not so bad."

The expression on his face was so disbelieving that it made me chuckle. 

"Really," I said. "It's only for takeoffs and landings. I don't handle those too well."

"Take offs and landings," he repeated slowly. 

"And turbulence," I admitted. "And air pockets. Or cross winds." And long flights and short flights in small crafts... but I decided that he didn't need to know all of that stuff. "I'll be fine in a few minutes once I find something to take my mind off of the fact that we're in the air."

Chris thought about that and then nodded slightly. "What helps?" I had a vision of him and I and the do not disturb sign on the bathroom but remembered that we were supposed to stay belted in our seats, at least until we achieved some ridiculous height above the earth that I really didn’t want to think about right at that moment.  

"This," I gave him a strained smile and held up our joined hands, "physical contact. Usually on commercial flights I take a pill or enjoy some baby bottles of booze. But I promise, I'll be fine in no time. I probably won’t puke on you.” He raised an eyebrow and aimed that panty melting smile of his at me and my tension eased, just a smidge. 

“Try and aim it at the seat in front of you, Lappy needs a haircut anyway,” he said, in a stage whisper that resulted immediately in Max turning around and pulling one of his ear buds out.

“I heard my name,” he said, levelling his gaze at me in a way that made it clear he was imagining me out of the knee length chocolate sheath dress I was wearing. Normally when a guy looks at me like that I have the urge to smack them with my purse but when Max did it, it made me grin and think about climbing over the seat and unbuttoning the pale blue dress shirt that was just about holding together at the seams across his shoulders. 

“It’s those voices in your head again,” Chris deadpanned which only made Max roll his eyes and turn back to me. 

“Anytime you’re ready chérie, you just let me know, ça va?” I had no doubt it would be soon and nodded, wondering just how small the bathroom would be in a private charter like this and if there was any possibility that there would be room for three. 

“There,” Chris said, lifting our enjoined hands and pressing his lips to the back of mine. 

“There?” I asked, looking around. 

“We lifted off. You said take offs and landings were what worried you. We’re climbing. You good now?” I glanced out the window. He was right. I hadn’t even felt it. I turned back to him and nodded, a big, dumb grin on my face. “Good,” he smiled and went to drop my hand. I didn’t want him to and held on. “I’m gonna need my hand back, to turn the pages in my book,” he pointed out but I shook my head. 

“Statistically this is one of the worst times in a flight, this is when a lot of planes go down, just after takeoff,” I pointed out and he rolled his eyes but kept smiling. He had a really nice, warm, easy smile. 

“Okay scaredy-cat. What’s gonna help? Gum? Tranquilizer dart?” 

“Do you have one of those?” I asked and he laughed. 

“No, but I’ll tell you what. I’ll tell you about the time I helped my brother kick this perp’s ass in Times Square if it’ll help?” I nodded eagerly and he heaved a sigh and then sat back. “Okay, so this wino had mugged this old lady....”

______________________________________________________________

I could have listened to Higgy talk about his family for a week. He was obviously proud of them and I somehow it added to his All American boy next door charm to now that his family was in uniform. Men in uniform, any uniform apparently, is a particular weakness and as I sat there, listening to his stories, I started to picture him in a Fireman’s calendar, all bare-chested with those crazy abs of his on display but that lead me to thoughts of wanting to play with his hose and then I stopped hearing him talk and started just staring.

“Um...earth to Penny?” he laughed, snapping his fingers in front of my face. I blinked, startled, and realized I’d been staring at his package, openly, and lifted my hand to touch my mouth, to see if I’d actually been drooling. 

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, partially embarrassed and partially...well...not. 

“You were like...a thousand miles away,” he said and I made a face. 

“Not really. Only about a hundred feet...if that,” I replied quietly, sneaking a look down the aisle to see if the occupied light was on. “Have you ever...y’know?” I asked, looking back at him and then tilting my head meaningfully up the aisle. He followed my gaze and then blushed, crimson, right to the tips of his ears.

“No,” he replied firmly and stared straight ahead. 

“So how ‘bout it?” I asked, giving him what I thought was a playful nudge. He grimaced, as if I could possibly have even made a dent in his wall of muscles and shook his head. 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he grumbled and kept staring straight ahead. I blinked, not sure I could have heard him right. 

“I can be quiet,” I promised, keeping my voice low. “It’s not like I’m gonna scream so loud the whole plane will hear, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I realized as I said it that it might have been a lie, considering Kess’s warning about Higgy’s endowment but decided I would do my best, bite on a towel if I had to.

“I mean no...I don’t want to,” he growled and then shot me a sideways glance that made me sit back in my seat, as if he’d pushed me there, as if he’d slapped me.  

“Fine,” I mumbled, hurt and a little crestfallen. “It was just an idea.” I pulled a magazine out of my bag and turned so he couldn’t see my face. I felt like a big ‘denied’ sticker had been put on my forehead or a rejected stamp had been slammed across my face. I wanted a giant hole to open up in the side of the plane and suck me out. 

“We’re gonna land soon anyway,” he said a little less tersely. 

“Whatever,” I mumbled, snapped my magazine open and pretended to read. 

_____________________________________________________________

“Can I help you with your bags demoiselle?” I nodded and let Max pull my bag and his as we headed towards the entrance of the hotel. I’d intentionally sat at the back of the bus, with the trainers and other staff, away from the guys, on the trip from the airport. The fact that Max had waited for everyone else to get off the bus made me like him just a little bit more. “I’m sorry about Higgy,” he added, leaning close so that he was practically whispering in my ear. I shrugged. “He was probably in a bad mood,” Max added, to which I again, merely shrugged. I wasn’t sure what he might have overheard, if anything, and this was my first road trip. I didn’t want to earn a reputation by bitching about one of his teammates, especially one I knew he was close to. 

“I’m not a great flyer,” I brightened, forcing myself to smile and put the whole episode behind me. “I’m sure it’s my fault.” 

“Well if he holds that against you I’ll put him into the boards for you in practice,” he grinned and it was hard not to grin back. Lappy has that kind of a smile that makes you want to be happy with him. “Can I help you settle into your room?” he asked as we waited for the elevators. I shrugged. It was my job to be amiable. It wasn’t my job to be sullen and tell him that I wasn’t in the mood. 

“Sure,” I answered, telling myself to relax, that it wasn’t Lappy I was upset with and that really I had no right to be upset at all, that I was reading too much into it and that maybe Higgy is just more private than some of the other guys and that seemed to help. 

So did the room. I don’t know what I’d expected but when we got to the door with the little brass plaque that read “honeymoon suite” I stood there grinning like an idiot. 

“Really?” I looked over at Max who laughed and reached over to take the security card out of my hand and swipe it. 

“Well it kind of is like that, non?” he purred in my ear as he swept past me, leaving his bag near the door and taking my bag into the room, a room with a king sized bed with a mountain of pillows, a plush soft looking burgundy and gold comforter and a bottle of champagne chilling on ice waiting for us. “Shall we open it?” he asked, taking the bottle out and retrieving two glasses from a cupboard beside the big screen TV.

“Hell yeah,” I grinned and flopped down on the bed, toeing off my shoes. Max looked down at my red toe nails and then slowly he let his gaze move up my body. I was sure Max had done all this because he wanted to have sex but he wasn’t making a move to get naked, or asking me to get naked so I began to wonder if I was assuming that was all he wanted, that he, like so many Frenchman I’ve met was just all about the conquest, that he looked at women as playthings and sex as a game. Being good at it is merely evidence of being male. As I watched him pour the champagne I started to think that I’d hate to be with a team full of Quebecois players.

Scratch that. I’d be as happy as a pig in shit. 

Max wanted sex alright, I could tell by the heat in his gaze when he turned to hand me the glass, the way his fingers slid along mine, causing sparks along my skin but what he wanted was not the “let’s get ready to rumble” sex that Kess liked. Max wanted to come at it from the side. He wanted me to think it was my idea. He wanted me to want it and therefore want him. 

Not that it was hard to want him. He’s got that whole voyageur sexy rogue vibe going for him. There was no doubt in my mind that he was all man and that at some point I was going to have to invoke my safe word, or beg for mercy. 

I wanted to tell him, as I sipped the champagne, that he didn’t really have to work so hard at the whole seduction thing. He could have just pulled down his pants and yelled ‘ta da’ and I would have gotten into bed with gladly but I reminded myself that there was a little more to my job than just getting naked and doing the deed. 

I was supposed to be a sexual chameleon, all things to all the guys on the team. So if Max wanted me to be a happy flirtatious coquette then I would. So I batted my eyelashes, asked him if he’d stay and keep me company, if that wouldn’t get him into trouble. That way he could play the part of the chivalrous hero, which he did. With his chest puffed out he accepted, making sure I knew that he didn’t worry about the ‘rules’ and then he fed me chocolates and kissed my neck while I savored the decadent chocolate truffles.

His hand felt huge on my inner thigh and he took so much time working his way northwards that I had to actually work at not squirming. He knew what he was doing though, by the time he was sliding the palm of his hand over my panties they were drenched and I was ready to beg. I managed not to, just, but had to bite down hard on the corner of one of the throw pillows when he slid my panties off and went to work with his tongue and teeth and fingers. 

To say he was obviously an expert is an understatement. Whatever he knows sex shops should sell but then maybe women wouldn’t need any other men. He worked me to the point of exhaustion, making me cum over and over until my body felt boneless, until my throat was raw from screaming and I could feel my own juices running down the inside of my thighs. 

There was a point to all of his special favors, which I came to understand out when he stripped for me. I know my mouth just sort of dropped open and as pretty as the rest of his rock hard, athletic body looked, there was only one thing I could look at and I couldn’t stop staring at it. 

“Oh my god.” You hear about them, maybe even see them in porn flicks but when you actually see one up close and personal, it’s a little intimidating. I think I even whimpered. 

“Voyez-vous quelque chose que vous aimez ma petite?” he asked with a brash grin that on its own would have made me weak at the knees. As it was I was glad to be lying on the bed. Had I been standing I would have stumbled. 

“Oh Jeezus, just…be careful with that,” I muttered and watched him ease his way onto the bed and in between my thighs. We both watched as he gradually, inch by thick stiff inch, screwed his enormous dick into me. I watched it disappear inside my snatch with a certain sense of wonder but mostly with disbelief and then I moaned like a good porn star, threw back my head and begged him to do it again. He chuckled, grabbed my knees, pulled them up over his impressively wide shoulders and happily obliged.  

“I hope you know, I am ruining you for every other man,” he told me, lifting my hips right off the bed so he could find a deeper angle, impossibly I thought, to fill me even more. I gasped and bit down on my bottom lip. 

“Oh I don’t know you might have to work at that,” I smirked, or tried to and he laughed. 

“As you wish,” he grinned, lowered me to the bed and reached for my hand, the one that had been playing with his chest hair. With his bigger hand locked around my wrist he pinned it to the pillow behind my head and then reached for my other hand and did the same. Thus pinned all I could do was look up at him as he grinned down at me and proceeded to make long, slow thrusts each and every one stealing my breath. 

 

I didn’t know where to look. His eyes were too dark, too intense and his body was long and lean and muscular and beautiful and what I wanted right then was not to think, not to look into anyone’s eyes. What I realized I wanted, more than anything right at that moment, was to be fucked hard and fast and preferably with my face pressed into a pillow. 

There was just one little problem with what I wanted; his weapon scared me. 

“I want you to fuck me,” I squeaked, forcing myself to say it. Max stopped moving and looked down at me. 

“I am?” he said, managing to look entirely dejected, as if I’d just told him that his dick was too small or his dog had died. 

“No I mean...really...just give it to me,” I said through clenched teeth and feeling the heat rise into my face when I said it. His pouty face transformed all at once and a wicked grin spread across his handsome face and then I really squeaked as he let go of my wrists, grabbed me around the waist and rolled me over.  

“As you wish,” he purred into my ear, nudging my knees apart with his own. I bit down on the corner of a pillow as I felt the head of his long, hard length stabbing at my entrance and then yelped as he slammed into me all at once. I heard him grunt and then swear in French. 

“Mon Dieu,” he sighed and then gave my left ass cheek a slap. “This is going to be fun,” he added and then, with his big hands and long fingers digging into my waist he gave me the rollicking I needed to forget that Higgy had shot me down in flames.