DPMB

 

Over the next couple weeks, I discover that dating Brent is really fun. It’s even more fun since it’s on the sly. He’s so damn good at sneaking around. But the one place we can be ourselves is at his house in Las Vegas.

The day we get back from Chicago he reduces the hours of his housekeeper and fires his cook.

“I didn’t like his crappy cooking anyway,” he tells me in the kitchen.

We then do it on the counter next to the stove.

I move a bunch of my things over from my bedroom to Brent’s room, and I sleep there every night. We’re in the midst of a home game stint, with a few days off in between, so I have ample opportunity to get comfortable with our new living arrangement. I also get quite comfortable with having sex all the time.

Brent’s kind of insatiable, but you won’t hear me complaining.

Still, it’s not all sex and bedroom times with him. He and I take walks around his property at night, talking and making out under the stars. We also play pool in his basement, and some evenings we simply pop popcorn and watch movies in the living room.

He introduces me to Slapshot, a classic hockey flick according to him.

I search around for a hockey-themed movie and come up with The Cutting Edge. I’m excited when I hear he’s never seen it.

“Hmm, I don’t know about this one,” he muses as he reads the summary on the back of the DVD box.

I curl up with him on the sofa. “Oh, come on now. Give it a chance.”

When we cue up the movie and hit Play, it starts out promising enough. Hockey at the Olympics, that’s a plus, right?

“See,” I say. “I told you this would be good.”

Brent isn’t so sure. “We’ll see about that. If this is a total chick flick, Aubrey, I swear I’ll—”

“What?” I taunt, peering up at him. “What will you do to me if it is a total chick flick?”

Looking down at me with lust in his gaze, he murmurs, “Hmm, well, I guess I’ll need to think of a suitable punishment.”

It’s then I remember the Double Penetrator Mega Blaster. Am I brave enough to show it to him? It’d certainly be punishing, in a possibly good kind of way. Wow, seems I’m up for anything if it involves Brent. Since I trust he’ll go easy on me if we do put it into play, I start hoping and praying this movie is this chickiest chick flick ever.

A few more minutes and I’m pretty sure my wish is about to come true, seeing as the lead male character, the hockey player, is hurt and considering taking up doubles figure skating.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Brent blurts out, complete with an I-knew-this-would-suck groan.

“You promised you’d watch the whole thing,” I remind him, snickering when I think of the DPMB and how surprised he’ll be when I show it to him. “Besides,” I go on, “I didn’t get half the jokes in Slapshot, but I stuck it out till the end.”

That earns me a disappointed shake of the head. “I’m going to pretend I did not just hear you diss a classic hockey movie.”

“I did, though, Brent. I totally did. That’s bad, huh?”

“Sure is.” And then he wants to know, “What are you up to, Aubrey?”

“Hmm”—I wink over at him—“I’m just thinking maybe you can add to that ever-growing list of things you’re going to need to punish me for.”

He raises a brow. “It sounds like you actually want to be punished.”

“Maybe I do. But only by you.”

Chuckling and pulling me in closer to him, he murmurs, “You’re in rare form tonight, babe.”

Distracted by what’s on the TV screen, I point to a scene and say, “Oh look, the hockey player dude’s going back home to tell his family what he’s been up to.”

“Poor bastard.” Brent laughs. “I’m sure they’re going to be oh-so proud.”

“You’re such a downer.”

“Just watch,” he says. “I bet I’m right.”

He is right—the lead male character receives a less-than-warm reception from his hometown hockey-loving peeps. But oddly enough, as the movie plays on Brent starts really getting into it.

I knew he was a romantic at heart.

Still, he remembers my transgressions of the night, and when we reach the bedroom I’m ordered to disrobe and, “Assume the position.”

With my hands on the bed and my ass in the air, Brent comes up behind me. “You were very naughty tonight, Aubrey.”

He leans over me and deposits a flurry of soft little kisses down my bare back, making me shiver with the anticipation of what’s to come. It won’t be soft and little, like the kisses, that’s for sure.

“Making me watch a total chick flick—”

“You loved it,” I interject.

Whack! He smacks me on the right butt cheek. “Did I say you could talk?”

I yelp and shake my head.

“That’s right.” He gathers my hair and yanks back my head. “Now what should I do to you first?”

Leaning farther over my back, engulfing me, he trails his nose down the side of my neck. It’s like he’s inhaling me, making me his. Damn, I love being dominated by this über alpha male. He’s so sweet to me these days outside of the bedroom that I kind of need him a little rough in here.

I’m putty in his hands already by the time he reaches down to stroke my clit. “Oh, Aubrey,” he rasps in my ear. “So wet for me already?”

“Always,” I say, since it’s true.

That earns me a yank on the hair and a finger rammed up my pussy. “Talking out of turn again, eh?”

I rock back against his hand and he adds another finger. “You like this, don’t you?”

Assuming that’s my cue to speak, I mutter a low and throaty, “Uh-huh.”

Brent fingers me till I spasm around him. “Come for me, Aubrey,” he whispers as I ride out an orgasm that feels like it has no end.

Spent, I collapse onto the bed.

It takes all my energy, but as Brent undresses I wave my hand to a dresser he designated as mine when I moved into his room. “Look in the bottom drawer,” I say slyly.

Naked and glorious, Brent pads over to the dresser and opens the drawer where DPMB sits in all his glory on top of my lingerie.

“Holy shit, Aubrey!”

He picks up the sex toy and turns to me, wielding it like a weapon of mass pussy destruction. “You really are a bad girl, aren’t you?”

Assuming the no-talking rule is off for now, I prop up on my elbows and say, “I’ve never used it. I was actually planning to send it to my sister, seeing as she’s a pro when it comes to those things—”

“Wow,” he interjects, clearly astonished. “Forget Benny. We should set her up with Nolan. He’s a sex toy aficionado. She sounds like his dream girl.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means,” I reply. “But I can tell you now, I don’t want Nolan anywhere near my sister.”

Brent just laughs.

I continue, dismissing any thoughts of my nemesis, Nolan. “Anyway, I was thinking since I never got rid of the crazy thing that maybe you and I could give it a whirl.”

“Give it a whirl?” He sounds stunned. Raising a brow, he asks, “You really want me to use this thing on you?”

He may act all shocked, but I sense it’s for my sake, an opening for me to back out graciously. But I can see he’s already hard just thinking about it. And God knows I’m dripping. Hell with backing out graciously. The only place I’m backing to is maybe onto this thing. Er, maybe.

“It looks more intimidating than I remember,” I confess. ”But yeah, I think I want you to use it on me. Just be gentle, okay.”

He gives me a look, like that’s a given. “Aubrey, of course. It has to be fun for both of us, or there’s no point.” He sighs. “You sure you don’t want me to just put it away?”

I shake my head. “No. Let’s try it.”

Brent starts toward me with DPMB, and I sit up and pull my knees up to my chest.

“Changing your mind?” he asks.

“Nope. Just mentally preparing.”

He reaches me and nudges my legs apart. I scoot to the edge of the bed, and he asks, “You ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

He doesn’t use DPMB on me immediately. First, he gets me readier than ever with his tongue. Then he fingers me. We also talk about how far and how much I want. DPMB comes with lube, which is essential for the double part.

When we get to that, Brent keeps his promise and uses the toy on me gently and carefully. It’s weird and it’s different, but the kink factor of Brent using the thing on me makes the whole experience hot.

When I’m so worked up I think I might die, he tosses it off to the side and straight-up fucks me.

I come so many times I lose count.

When Brent finishes, he collapses onto me. “God, that was amazing,” he says.

Just wait till we play with your namesake, Brent 51, I think.

I sense the opportunity might come—no pun intended—the very next night.

Brent, back in sweet and romantic mode, drives me out to the desert in his newest car, a late model Jaguar, so we can see the many nighttime stars that blanket the desert sky.

Once we’re parked in the middle of nowhere, Brent and I get out. He rests his ass against the front of the car, so I wedge between his arms and lean my back against him.

“Oh my God,” I gush, looking up at the sky. “It’s so freaking pretty. I can’t believe how many stars are actually up there.”

“And to think they’re there all the time. We just can’t see them in the city with all the bright lights.”

“Well, they sure stand out here in the desert,” I murmur. “It kind of makes you feel grounded, reminds you of what’s important.”

“It does,” he agrees. “Life’s not all about bright lights and big cities.”

He kisses the top of my head, and I know bright lights and big cities is a metaphor for the glitz and glamour of celebrity life.

“I’m glad you brought me out here,” I murmur.

“I wanted to share it with you. This is my spot to come and think about things, important things.”

“So, this place is special to you?”

“It is.”

“Do you come out here a lot?” I inquire. I’m thirsty to learn all I can about Brent.

I feel him shrug. “From time to time.”

It’s totally quiet in the desert, silence reigns, so we stop talking and just enjoy the peacefulness for a few minutes.

Finally, I break the silence when I bring up something we’ve not yet addressed, not directly. “Brent, what are we going to do if we’re found out?”

“We won’t be discovered,” he assures me.

I turn in his arms to face him. “Still, we have to be extra careful when you go on the road next week.” I sigh. “I love being at your house. It’s a great hideaway. But how are we going to manage to keep our relationship a secret in a hotel when the team’s staying mere feet awa—”

He silences my concern with a kiss.

“We’ll just have to be overly cautious,” he says when we break apart.

When a star suddenly shoots across the sky, I make a wish, hoping he’s right and we’ll be fine.

Sighing, he says, “I can’t wait for when you’re no longer working for the team.” He kisses my forehead. “Then we won’t have to worry anymore about sneaking around.”

We’ve already discussed the next six weeks, the time remaining on my contract. We’ve decided to give our relationship a real shot out in the real world once I’m free from any contract restrictions.

I love Brent, and I’m pretty sure he loves me. We haven’t said the words yet, but I suspect it’s only because we’re both waiting for the perfect time.

“Yeah,” I say, agreeing that I can’t wait for my contract to end too. “I’ll have a couple months off afterward for sure. I can stay here in Vegas with you until my next assignment. And until I have to leave, I can still travel with you to your away games.”

Once I’m no longer under contract with the Wolves, I can do whatever I want. We can do whatever we want.

“That sounds perfect.” He closes his eyes and adds, “December can’t get here soon enough, Aubrey.”

“It’s just a few weeks away,” I remind him.

On the way back home, we take a different route and spot a diner on the side of the road. A big neon sign on a pole out front informs us it’s the Area 51 Café.

“Oh hell, Aubrey.” Brent starts to laugh. “Check out that sign. We totally have to take a picture of you next to it.”

I reach over and whack him in the arm. “That’s so not funny.”

I’m not really mad, I’m just playing. It is actually kind of funny.

When Brent sees I’m not upset in the least, he pulls into the lot. “Uh, out of curiosity, do you still have that Area 51 toy?”

Ooh, opportunity!

“Why do you want to know?” I coquettishly ask.

“Well, we had so much fun with that double-penetrating thing last night that I thought maybe we could invite your green friend to join us later tonight.”

“My green friend, huh?” I laugh. “He has a name, by the way.”

“He does? You’re shitting me. What is it?”

“Um, it may be Brent 51.”

“It may be, or it is?”

“Okay, it is.” Clearing my throat, I confess, “I obviously named him after you.”

After a long pause, he says, “I don’t know if I should be happy about this or offended, seeing as that thing’s a pretty weird shade of green. Not to mention, it freaking glows in the dark.”

“Not always. I found a switch where you can turn off that feature.”

“Ah, that’s why my upstairs hallway no longer lights up like a toxic swamp.”

That earns him another whack. “Brent, be serious.”

He laughs, and God, I love how happy he sounds. Placing my hand on his hard thigh, I assure him, “You should feel happy I named my toy after you. He’s what I use when I fantasize about you and me together.”

“You pretend that thing is me?”

“Yep.”

“What about DPMB?” he asks, though it’s clear he’s now teasing. “Who do you pretend it is?”

“No one.” I make a face. “I told you I never used it before last night. That one used to scare me.”

“Does it still?”

“Not as much. But it is…a lot to handle.”

“Maybe we should reserve it for special occasions, then?”

“Like once in a blue moon?” I joke. “Get it, Brent? Moon?”

When Brent doesn’t fall into hysterics at my joke, like he damn well should, I sense something is wrong. “Hey, what’s up?”

In a worried-he’s-not-pleasing-me tone, he says, “Do you still use Brent 51, like, often?”

“Aw, don’t worry, stud.” I pat his leg, inching up closer to a part of him that’s near and dear to my heart. And near and dear to other parts of me, as well. “I haven’t taken Brent 51 out for a long time. He’s been sleeping peacefully since we hooked up.”

He shoots me a mischievous grin. “Well, then, I say we wake him up, for sure. Damn, the things I could do to you with that thing, Aubrey. You do realize it’s much more maneuverable than the DPMB.”

“Shit, Brent. Forget about taking a picture with that stupid sign. Hit the gas and get us home as fast as you can.”

Laughing, he says, “You got it, babe.”

Damn, Brent Oliver is turning me into a toy-loving sex fiend.