Bliss

 

Nothing matters in her bedroom. It’s just me and her, one woman and one man, and everything stretching before us of what we could be.

Do I love Aubrey?

I don’t know, but I think I could if I let myself.

And I want to do exactly that. Fuck the rules. Love breaks them all the time, anyway, right?

I make it the thirty minutes I promised her, and then some. While we rest in her bed afterward—me playing absently with her shiny hair, and her with her cheek pressed to my chest—I think about how we got to this point.

“I sure am glad I was so insanely jealous over Al,” I muse out loud.

I feel her lips turn up into a smile against my skin. “I can’t believe you thought my sister and I kept a man at my house that we shared for sex. That’s just gross, Brent.”

I smack her bare ass, to which she lets out a little yelp. “You are a little wild in the sack,” I say. “So it could’ve been true.”

She reaches down and pinches my thigh. “Ow,” I mutter. “That hurts.”

“This, from the big, bad hockey player,” she says.

“Ha-ha.”

“Anyway,” she goes on, “it serves you right. I’d never divide up my time with a guy with Lainey. I don’t like sharing.” She peers up at me meaningfully with those sea-green eyes.

I would normally feel indignant. Like, you don’t own me. I’ll do whatever the hell I want. But that was the old me. I haven’t felt the urge to touch another woman since Aubrey entered my life. Why would anything change now that we’ve had sex?

I smooth her messy hair away from her face and assure her, “You have nothing to worry about with me.”

“What about all your other women?”

“What other women?” I snort.

“Oh, let’s see.” She ticks off the following: “There are puck bunnies, ladies at the strip clubs, regular booty calls.”

“First off, the women at the strip clubs are generally not ladies. Plus, that’s more Nolan’s scene. As for puck bunnies, I haven’t touched one of them in ages, not since the summer. You know that.”

“You didn’t address the regular booty calls,” she reminds me.

“I’m hoping you’ll become that,” I say.

She bites her lip.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is that all we are?”

I raise a brow. “Do you want more?”

I want us to become a couple, but this is her call. Her ass is more on the line than mine if this relationship is discovered. That means if she does want this, we’ll need to keep it on the strictest down-low.

“Aubrey?” I prompt when there’s no answer forthcoming.

“Yes,” she blurts out. “I guess we are more than friends now, right? I mean, after what just occurred.” She gestures to the rumpled sheets we’re lying on, to our naked bodies, limbs entwined.

But, wait. Does this mean she doesn’t want more? Maybe all she wanted all along was some cock. And we now know she could never get that from Al the Cockless Alligator.

Bristling—I don’t like feeling used, not by her—I say, “Us fucking doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, Aubrey.”

Sitting up abruptly, she wraps the sheet around her body. “What we did felt like more than some random fuck, Brent.”

I sit up next to her and fold my arms across my chest. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. Was it? For you, I mean.”

Her eyes search mine, and when she sees what I guess she needs from me, she says, “Yes. And I think it was for you too.”

“It was,” I admit.

Shit, feeling vulnerable sucks. But I better get used to it if we’re hitting relationship territory here. I haven’t had one of those since juniors, so this should be interesting.

I’m all set to travel down this new road of emotional intimacy, but then I notice Aubrey is staring at my dick.

I reach down and stroke it a little to give it some life. “See something you like?” I ask.

She leans in closer, her face right above my junk. It’s a good look for her.

“I’m just looking for the tattoo,” she says. “The fifty-one. Where is it?”

“Clearly not on my cock,” I reply, amused.

“You said it was there, though.”

She continues to hover over my dick, and well, he and I both like that. Aubrey’s mouth that close gets us all excited, making me spring to full mast.

“I never said that,” I say, at last. “I just implied it. Remember, I told you you’d have to find out for yourself.”

Shaking her head, and making her soft hair stroke my shaft in an enticing way, she says, “You’re such an ass, Brent.”

Funny how, despite her supposed irritation with me, she can’t keep her eyes off my erection. But she asked about my tattoo, so that’s what I plan to show her. We can get to more sexing after that.

I move the edge of the sheet that’s covering my right hip. Nodding down to a small inked 51, I say, “My tattoo is over here, sweetheart.”

“Oh? Ohhh, okay.”

Aubrey lies down on my leg, her tits smooshing into my thigh as she frames her hands around the number. “I like it,” she says. “It looks good in that spot. Subtle, but sexy.”

“If you really want to see sexy, you should check things out a little to your right,” I encourage.

Aubrey feigns nonchalance, but she knows what I’m gunning for. Thankfully, she doesn’t torture me for long. Within a minute, she’s wrapping her hand around my hard cock and smiling up at me. “Is this what you want?”

I was kind of hoping for a blow job, but her soft little hand feels pretty damn good. “Uh-huh,” I murmur.

She then asks, “Do you like how I play with this huge thing?”

What I do like is how she keeps referring to my cock as huge. A little positive reinforcement never hurt anyone, right?

She pumps once, twice. Shit, that feels good. “Yeah, don’t stop,” I murmur.

She doesn’t stop, and I lie back, resting an arm over my eyes. I’m all set for this hand action, but then I feel her mouth closing around me.

I look down and… “Fuuuck.”

Aubrey proceeds to work my shaft like a pro. I don’t think I want to know how she got so good at this. Maybe she’s a natural, like me with hockey. Or maybe she practiced a lot on cucumbers or something. After all, we all know how much she likes green—

“Holy hell, where’d you learn that,” I blurt out when she does some swirly thing with her tongue.

She doesn’t answer, and I don’t want her to. I want her to keep sucking and licking and swirling and… “Shit, babe, I’m gonna come.”

I nudge her head to warn her that the inevitable is about to happen, right in her mouth if she doesn’t move. Nonetheless, she keeps on keeping on, and next thing I know I explode down her throat.

“I wanted you to do that,” she informs me once she swallows.

“Shit, woman, I think it’s my turn to pass out,” I mutter.

We rest for a while, lying in each other’s arms. God, I could get used to this. I doze off for a bit, but then she wakes me when I feel her moving around.

When I open my eyes, I’m afforded a hot view of Aubrey ripping open a condom wrapper with her freaking teeth. What a glorious sight. Guess she found the other Trojan I had in my wallet.

I didn’t realize I was hard again, but hell, since I’m ready I help Aubrey roll the latex down my shaft.

Positioning her hot little self above me, she says, “Think of this as the second period of a hockey game.”

“What was the blow job?” I ask.

“Intermission. Like when they’re out Zamboni-ing the ice.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I will forever now think of blow jobs as ‘Zamboni-ing the ice.’”

“As long as they’re only from me, that’s fine,” she tells me.

“I only want them from you,” I quietly admit. “And for the record, I want only you in every other way too.”

She leans down and kisses me. “I feel the same way, Brent.”

“Enough talk.” Grabbing her ass, I shove her down on my hard shaft.

Fuck, I need to be inside her as much, and as often, as I can.

She gasps when I grab hold of her hair. But when I start pulling back her head, I worry it’s too much. Better rein it in.

Releasing her, I ask, “Was that too aggressive? Pulling on your hair like that?”

“Hell no,” she breathes out as she slides up along my length. She lowers back down slowly. “I might call you for ‘roughing,’ though,” she gasps, circling her hips. “But it’s only ’cause I want you to spend as much time as possible in the ‘box.’”

Shit, I need to fist-bump Benny next time I see him. I love it more than ever that he’s taught Aubrey enough hockey terms that she can incorporate them into something hot as hell.

I grab onto her hair again and warn her this time to, “Hold the fuck on, sweetheart.”