Chapter 23
Shea
On a normal day, Brynn wakes up before anyone else and starts breakfast. Today, she slept in and took the morning off. I couldn't blame her. I let her sleep in.
A hangover clouded my mind like a morning fog. I wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or last night's revelations. Regardless, I stumbled around the kitchen and whipped up a breakfast for Chloe and I: eggs, bacon, toast and oatmeal. She didn't feel like talking much to me. She stared at her food and pushed it around her plate without interest.
“Not as good as when Brynn makes it, huh?”
“Nope,” she said, popping the p.
“Hey, be good for her while I'm gone, okay?”
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”
“Please, Chloe. She was kind enough to agree to stay here to take care of you. She has her own friends and life outside of us, you know.”
“I get it, Dad. I'll thank her.”
“Okay.”
By the time I'd showered, packed my bags, and needed to head out the door, Brynn still wasn't up. I hugged Chloe and told her to say bye to Brynn for me instead.
I would've woken Brynn so I could say goodbye to her in person—if I wasn't feeling like a complete jackass over the fact that I'd tried to kiss her again. Right after I tried to tell her we needed to keep things strictly professional, too.
That's twice now I've blown a kiss with Brynn.
Hopefully the Brawlers can manage to do a little better in our series against Tampa.
***
The Boston Brawlers must've been a sorry sight at 10:00 AM on the team plane. Coach was the last member of the team to board, and he didn't like what he saw.
“For Chrissakes,” he grumbled as he slowly patrolled the aisles, wafting his hand in front of his nose. “Stinks like rum and puke in here. Great way to kick off the playoffs, gentlemen. Nothing says Stanley Cup contenders like a plane filled with groaning drunks. Boston Boozehounds, that's what they oughtta call us.”
Coach saw me and his face crumpled with disappointment. “You too, Ellis?! I expect it from them, but you?”
“Sorry, Coach. Guess I got a little carried away with the festivities last night myself …”
He threw himself into his seat with a groan. “I really gotta get Mr. James to move that damn gala until after the playoffs. What's the point of throwing a rager right before the most important stretch of our season? Makes no goddamn sense to me. Year after year, we shoot ourselves in the foot with that idiotic party.”
Even though Coach had a right to be mad, the good news was that today was still an off-day. We flew to Tampa three days before the playoffs actually began: the first day was for travel and rest, the second and third days were for practice. We didn't play Game 1 until the fourth day, so we had plenty of time to recuperate.
But I wasn't dumb enough to try to speak up and make Coach feel better about his plane full of drunks. He was right to be pissed.
The plane taxied down the runway, fired its engines, and with a lurch, rushed forward.
A few rows back, one of my teammates went uuurp.
“Oh, great,” Coach said. “That's just great.”
***
Tampa, FL.
We arrived at our hotel in the afternoon. The normal non-stop banter of the Boston Brawlers was completely missing as we dragged our wheelie suitcases down the long hall to our bedrooms.
My room came up first. I broke off from the group, swiped my key card, and staggered into the room. I shut the window curtains to blot out the bright Florida sun, climbed into bed, and tried to pass out.
But something wouldn't let me.
My damn balls. They'd ached all day.
Last night, I'd gotten so worked up with Brynn. But obviously, life had other plans for us. And since I never got my release, well, the pipes were feeling awfully sore and backed up.
There was only one thing to do.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the little black ball of fabric. Brynn's thong. I'd tried to give it back to her, but she didn't take it. She told me she didn't care what I did with it. I didn't know why I stealthily snuck it back into my pocket—and I really didn't know why I took it with me on the flight to Tampa. It seemed like the right thing to do, in some sort of depraved way. I guess I didn't want to let her go. I guess it was a memento? A really fucking twisted one.
But all flight long, I sure liked thinking about the naughty little secret in my pocket.
Jesus, I thought with a self-deprecating snicker—the irony wasn't lost on me, of course. I remembered all the shit I gave Radar last season for his 'panty collection,' before he met Ella.
All this time, I thought I was better than those guys. I thought I had my shit figured out. But clearly, I'm no better. I just haven't met a girl that made me want to do dumb things in a long, long time.
I laid her thong across my abs. Just looking at that black lace lying atop my chiseled muscle made last night come rushing back. I could still taste the juicy heat of her lips against mine. I could feel the weight of her tits, bouncing and jiggling in my palm. I could hear her screams of orgasm as I licked and sucked at her sweet, sweltering pussy.
Damn.
I slipped my pants and boxers off. My cock eagerly inched up my navel as if it were reaching for Brynn's thong.
I closed my eyes and started to tug.
Brynn. She was all I could see, all I could hear, all I could taste.
It didn't take long.
“Ungghh!” I groaned.
I opened my eyes and looked down. Brynn's thong was drizzled with thick white lines. Cum was painted in streaks up and down my abs and chest.
A guilty lump swelled in my throat. Damn. I'm sick. What the hell got into me?
I pulled out my cell phone and took a picture. Yeah, the scene was kinda hot, but it was incriminating as hell to snap that picture. I didn't know why I was so compelled to take the picture, except a feeling that I ought to document my crimes. Maybe so next time I got all high and mighty about my teammates' transgressions, I could look at it and remind myself the kind of guy I was, too.
After I cleaned up and the shame went away, I called Chloe to let her know I made it in safe. She didn't answer.
I called Brynn next. My heart raced while the phone rang, but she didn't answer, either.
Huh. Great. Guess I'm getting the silent treatment from both girls.