Chapter 6—Stickhandling

The next morning, Matt sent a quick text Vi asking her to meet him at the Marriott after she got off work. He’d text her the room number later.

Her quick response was a definite yes, and he walked around the rest of the day with a goofy smile on his face.

He took his boys ice-skating at the Sockeyes Hockey Athletic Center, what the guys fondly called the SHAC. The team owner, Ethan, opened the facility to staff and players whenever there wasn’t a practice scheduled. His boys were both natural athletes with an affinity for the ice. He was proud of them and how well they skated, but he’d have been proud of them if they’d been unathletic geeks. He just wanted them to be good citizens who made smart choices and enjoyed their lives.

Once his blades hit the ice, his troubles melted away, leaving nothing but the hypnotic sound of his skates gliding over the slick surface.

The boys raced to the other end of the rink as soon as they stepped out the gate. Matt followed more leisurely. He’d race them later and push them as fast as they could go. They liked that. Sometimes he even let them win.

Only one other person was on the ice this afternoon, though several of his teammates and their families were lacing up.

Rod skated toward him, a forced smile in direct contradiction to the misery in his eyes. Poor bastard. Matt could only imagine what the bitch did this time.

“What’s up?” Matt asked as Rod did a hockey stop in front of him, spraying ice on his boots.

“Not much.” Rod shrugged but wouldn’t meet his gaze. Not a good sign.

“Where’s Candy?” She usually skated with Rod when she could, probably more to flirt with his teammates than to spend quality time with her husband.

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You don’t know where your wife is?” Matt probably shouldn’t be pushing the point, but the kid needed to wake up.

“Probably Portland. She said she needed time away to think.”

“That rookie who sent her a dick pic is in Portland.”

“Duh,” Rod said bitterly.

“That’s rough, man. I’m sorry. I’m free later. Wanna get burgers and beer?”

“Yeah, that’d be cool.” Rod smiled gratefully at him. Matt knew how much a guy needed a distraction when his marriage was falling apart right before his eyes and nothing he did seemed to fix it.

“No prob. Now, I have some boys to wear out.” He patted Rod on the shoulder and raced off after Joey and Andy. Much to his surprise, Rod followed, and they ended up in a game of two on two. Rod and Andy against Joey and Matt. The boys played as if it were a fight to the death. When Brick showed up with his daughter, Macy, it got even more intense. Little Macy was a spitfire, and Matt immediately claimed her for his team, along with Sockeyes’ owner Ethan, who was a damn good amateur hockey player, and one of Jacques “Jock” Frontier’s five kids evened their numbers. The game got intense and ruthless among the kids, though the guys tried to keep it under wraps. Little Macy was the most merciless of all. Brick had his hands full with both his women, and Matt chuckled at the thought.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. The team’s biggest playboy had been taken out of circulation by an adorable little girl and her nanny. Brick never knew what hit him and didn’t seem to care.

Matt fought off a wave of jealousy. He was a team player, and team players were happy for their teammates, but he couldn’t help being envious of Brick’s little family. All Matt had ever wanted was a loving wife and rambunctious kids. He got the rambunctious kids in spades. The wife, not so much. In fact, not at all. From the second he slipped a monstrous diamond on her finger, he knew he’d screwed up. She’d planned a huge wedding costing him six figures for after the baby was born, because God forbid she be pregnant in her wedding pictures. While he was on a road trip a short time after the engagement, she’d conveniently lost her baby. Idiot that he was, he’d gone through with the wedding, thinking he loved her, and she played the grieving mother part well. He’d fallen for her bullshit and found out later there’d never been a baby.

Brie didn’t want kids, but she’d caved eventually. Having kids bound him forever to her, and she’d wanted those bindings—until she didn’t anymore.

Matt was the marrying type. He was a one-woman man, and he craved forever. As each of his teammates succumbed to true love, he stood on the sideline and wished Cupid’s arrow would find its mark in his heart. Only he found nothing.

He’d become suspicious of any female’s true intentions. Vi was the only woman he’d wanted a second date with, if you could call what they did a date, and their attraction was purely physical, which made Vi safe. Right now, safe was all he could manage.

* * * *

Vi planned to leave the strip club as quickly as possible that evening, despite feeling a twinge of guilt regarding Steph, who was cowering in one of the corners of the dressing room, bundled up like she was freezing and staring with frightened eyes at the wall in front of her.

On her way out the door, Vi paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Everything okay, Steph?”

“The tips weren’t good tonight.” She spoke so softly Vi leaned forward to hear her.

“Yeah, I hate it when we get a bunch of attorneys at the club. They’re cheap bastards.” Vi commiserated with her friend. She’d made half her usual Saturday night take.

Steph nodded and stared at the floor, hugging her body with her arms, dwarfed in the tattered oversize coat wrapped around her small body. “He’s going to be mad.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes,” Steph said, but her haunted eyes said differently.

Vi hesitated. “You still have my number, right?”

Steph bit her lower lip and nodded again.

“You’d call me if you needed help, wouldn’t you? You can always crash at my place. It’s tiny, but there’s room on the couch, and it’s in a decent neighborhood.”

“Thanks.” Steph’s lip trembled as though she was going to cry. She jerked away from the wall and ran out the door. Vi followed her, concerned and torn between going to Matt or helping this pathetic creature. Fate took the decision out of her hands.

Steph ran to the piece of crap Truck idling in the parking lot and hopped in. Before Vi could reach her, the car accelerated.

As the Truck rumbled past, Steph’s boyfriend cast a threatening glad in Vi’s direction. She wanted to flip him off, but she knew his type. He’d take her disrespect of him out on Steph. His kind always did.

The incessant rain ran down her face and drenched her hair, but she didn’t move until the taillights disappeared in the distance. A nauseated feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, and she prayed she’d see Steph again. The boyfriend gave her the creeps, and he displayed all the traits of an abuser. She’d seen his type enough times when it came to her own mother and sister and their various worthless, abusive boyfriends.

Where Vi came from, people didn’t get involved in others’ domestic issues, even if they did gossip about it, but she was finding it hard to ignore Steph’s obvious pleas for help. Even if she didn’t say anything out loud, she was asking for someone to care.

With a sigh, she walked to her old blue Toyota, fondly christened Hermie, and got inside. She’d hoped by giving the car a name and a personality, the car gods would shine their approval on her in the way of no flat tires or late-night breakdowns. So far, her strategy was working. Just in case, she pulled her Mace out of her purse and laid it within easy reach on the console.

Navigating the soggy Seattle streets, she spied the Marriott up ahead and pulled into the parking garage, shuddering at the price for one night’s parking. Vi was careful with her money and hated unnecessary expenditures, but she reminded herself Matt was worth it, even on a crappy tip night.

The closer she got to room 722, the more the bad crap faded away, giving way to a giddy excitement to see Matt again. Guys didn’t usually make her feel mushy inside, but she’d blame her girlie behavior on his big dick. Yeah, that was it. The man had an impressively big dick and a shredded physique. What woman wouldn’t beg for more and what vagina wouldn’t worship his penis?

Vi knocked once on the door and it swung open as if Matt had been waiting on the other side. He didn’t give her a chance to say a word, just swept her into his arms and kissed her with an urgency she couldn’t resist matching.

He pushed her against the wall, pressed his hard body against hers, and kissed her until her knees buckled and her head spun. She clung tightly to him, wrapping her legs around his hips as he lifted her off her feet and rubbed his erection against her crotch. Her panties were drenched, and her pussy cried for satisfaction with an urgency born of raw need and rampant horniness.

“Matt,” she panted. “Don’t waste time. I’ll die if you don’t fuck me now.”

He lowered her slowly, letting her slide down his body before he deposited her on her feet and released her. They shed their clothes at the speed of light.

Once naked, he carried her across the room as if she weighed nothing, and they got down to business.

* * * *

Vi shattered Matt’s usual iron control and drove him out of his fucking mind and into some alternate reality where only the two of them and their naked, writhing, needy bodies existed. She’d been starring in his dirty fantasies for several weeks, and the reality had proven far better than any dirty dreams his lust-filled mind conjured up.

Oh, yeah, their sex last night had been good. Better than good. It was cock-draining, mind-numbing, bone-melting epic. Tonight he could have his way with her and not worry about interruptions. He couldn’t wait to get started. There were so many things he wanted to do to her.

Despite his intentions to take her slow and sensual, he couldn’t. His body mutinied and refused to heed his commands. He roughly drove into her, as frenzied as he’d been the first time. Vi clung to his sweat-soaked body and gripped his ass, arching into him until he came hard and fast and collapsed against her. He wasn’t even sure if she’d come, he’d been so wrapped up in his own feelings, which wasn’t like him. Matt was usually a considerate lover. He’d been worse than a hound dog the two times he’d been inside Vi.

He swore he’d make it up to her if it took all night.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered huskily as he rolled to his side and toyed with a lock of her purple hair.

“For what?” She sounded genuinely confused.

“For being a minuteman.”

“I’m not complaining.” She turned to look at him. “Besides, I’m expecting you to make it up to me.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “I will. I promise. Give me a second.” He hurried to the bathroom and disposed of the condom. Returning to the bedroom, he flicked on the lamp. He wanted to see her.

Matt crawled between her legs. Putting his hands on her thighs and spreading her wide, he kissed and licked his way up one thigh, pausing to appreciate the intricate artwork of flowers and vines.

“You’re a brunette?”

“I am?” she joked.

“I’m asking you. Or do you remember your natural hair color?” He ran a thumb over the neatly trimmed patch of purple hair.

“Not sure,” she shot back with a wicked wink.

Spreading her legs wide, he bent his head. He smiled at the sight of her gorgeous pussy and ran his tongue along her slit, lapping up her juices. He pushed his tongue inside while working her clit, which to his surprise wasn’t pierced. Her navel was, and her ears had three piercings each, but no clit piercing or any other piercings.

Interesting.

Matt took Vi to the edge and backed off multiple times, giving and withholding in a relentless manner surprising even him. When he finally tipped her over the edge, the reward was instantaneous, and as much of a turn-on for him as it was for her. Okay, maybe not as much, but damn close.

He held her tight as she came down off her orgasmic high, but he didn’t give her much of a reprieve. He flipped her onto her stomach and moved behind her. Clutching her waist, he pulled her onto her knees and entered her, more gently than his jerky actions indicated. He wanted her screaming his name not because he was rough, but because he was just that good. He pushed inside, just a little, and retreated. Her beautiful round ass wiggled, and she moaned, muttering not-so-complimentary phrases under her breath. He chuckled. His male ego was stroked by the effect he was having on this woman of the world.

“You’re killing me,” she panted as he finally drove home, deep inside her, and paused, counting to twenty-five while gritting his teeth.

“It’s hurting me as much as it’s hurting you, ma chérie.” His admission was met with a hoarse giggle that vibrated right down to his balls. They were so tight, he felt as if they’d explode. Hell, he was going to explode, and not in a good way. Sweat poured off his forehead, but still, he held back, because so far, he could. He was driven by this insane desire to be the best Vi had ever had. He hadn’t been the best his ex had ever had or she wouldn’t have looked elsewhere.

Crap, and why was he thinking of his ex while buried deep inside this free-spirited woman who gave him back his male pride?

He thrust one more time, and Vi’s entire body tensed underneath him. In the light of the alarm clock, her face glowed with what he could only describe as rapture, and she came in tsunami that rolled over him and stripped him of his control. He lost it soon afterward. Fireworks exploded in his brain; his body spun with dizzying speed until he collapsed, boneless and drained, on top of her. He had the presence of mind to shift to his back and pull her on top of him. Their sweat mingled with their breath as their chests heaved and their bodies were rendered unable to move.

“If that’s not the best sex you’ve ever had, I’m hanging up my penis,” he managed to blurt out as they lay in a tangle of limbs.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” she said.

“Good.”

“Say something dirty to me in French.”

“Je suis ammanchee comme un taureau.”

“Oh, that sounds really sexy. What did you say?”

“I’m hung like a bull.”

She punched his arm playfully. And he wrapped his arms around her. His last thought was that he was never going to let this incredible woman go.