Chapter 11
Curfew
Beau
I rushed down the apartment building stairs, burst through the front door and immediately hailed a cab.
Luck was on my side tonight. A vacant cab was right outside the building, waiting for me. I whistled and hopped right in. I gave the cabbie the address to the hotel in Mid-town. I slipped him a $100 bill and told him to hurry.
Money motivates any man, and sure enough, the cabbie stepped on the gas like a bat out of hell. I relaxed into my seat and watched New York City roll by in a blur.
Filthy memories of what I'd just done played through my mind's eye:
That 'one last kiss' that we both knew would lead to more.
The way she reached between my legs and fondled my cock while we tongued.
The sight of those perfect, perky tits spilling out of her dress.
The look in her eyes when I told to her suck me like she always wanted to.
Yeah. That's what really got her. It was like a switch flipped in her head. And the girl I knew she'd been hiding from the world finally came out.
She spat on my cock and buried me in her throat. She didn't let me go until streaks of cum were painted up and down her face.
Damn.
My cock swelled fondly at the memories. My waist and thighs were still sticky and coated with her fluids. I sniffed at my fingers like a dog, desperate to find more of her essence. Sweet and musky, a touch of spice. She smelled damned good.
That was the hottest sex I've ever had.
Normally, I'm a one-and-done kinda guy. I find things get a little too complicated after the first time you've slept with a girl.
She starts wanting things … expecting things … and it all gets to be too much, especially for a busy guy like me.
But … there's something about Camille. I dunno what it is, but there's a little extra something, a kinky spark, that I don't get with other girls.
I'd do her again, is all I'm saying. Ab-so-fucking-lutely.
Judging by the look on her face when I left, though? Ha. For some reason, I don't think I'm going to be seeing Camille again—not at the hockey game tomorrow, not at the club, not ever.
A sour streak of loneliness sank into the pit of my stomach. But I did my best to squash it and ignore it.
Who cares?
I've fucked a lot of girls. Not once have I cared about how much they'll end up hating me the minute after we're done. So why would I care now?
Besides, I think we both needed that. She likes to make me out to be some terrible bad guy, but conveniently, she forgets how mean she was to me back in the day.
The cab pulled up at my hotel and I jumped out. I checked the time as I sprinted into the building—I had to hurry.
I waited for the elevator, nervously pacing back and forth for what felt like an eternity, until the doors finally opened for me.
I burst through the door of the hotel room I shared with Hunter exactly at 11:59 PM. He was in bed, and though the TV was still on, he'd obviously been sleeping a second ago.
He eyed the alarm clock. “Well god damn,” he mumbled sleepily. “I didn't think you were going to make it in time.”
“Close one, eh?” I said as I hurried over to our phone and dialed the coach's room.
Hunter chuckled. “You're out of breath, dude. So where were you? What were you up to?”
I winked at him while the phone rang. “Just having some fun.”
Hunter grimaced. “Please tell me you didn't—”
I held up a finger to quiet him as Coach answered the other end of the line.
“Cutting it awfully close, Beau,” Coach said with a disapproving sigh.
“Just keeping you on your toes, Coach.”
That was that. I'd made curfew in time, so I wouldn't be punished. Still good to play tomorrow. I hung up the phone.
“So?” Hunter asked.
“What are you so curious about?” I asked, giving a little chuckle.
“Vinny told me you guys met those bakery chicks at the club. He said you went home with them.” He raised an eyebrow, and I knew what he was asking.
I took off my jacket. “Look at you, wanting to gossip. You really oughtta start coming out more, Hunter.”
“I'm good, thanks. I just think it's funny. Normally, you're bragging about your conquests, whether I want to know about them or not.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I'm just curious. Like I said, I thought I could pick up on something between you two. Really seemed like you liked a girl for a change.”
I gave a laugh. “Dude, what are you talking about? I like a lot of girls.”
“But you know what I mean.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. I don't have time for that.”
“You know, Beau, I've been around this league longer than you. And I've seen a lot of guys like you over the years. The one thing I see a lot of? Once all the partying starts to get old, you'd be surprised how many guys settle down with an old flame from back home. It used to surprise me, but it doesn't anymo—”
I cut him off right then and there. “Jesus, Hunter, what the hell are you even talking about? Always with the 'it's time to settle down' crap. Not everyone wants to be all happily married like you, dude. Can't you get that? I love being single. I love partying. I love getting to fuck whoever the hell I want, whenever I want. And unless you're saying it's a problem for me on the ice, like it was for you back in the day, I don't wanna hear about it anymore.”
He went silent. I stripped down to my boxers and headed for the shower. Yeah, I liked her smell, but it was time to say goodbye.
I buried my head under the shower-head and let the water rain down my head, my neck, my back. I grabbed a bar of soap and washed her off me.
But a second later, that awful, churning mash of loneliness in my gut returned. My heart began to pound, and my lungs shriveled into a horrifyingly tight ball.
I felt like I couldn't breathe and my heart was about to explode.
Fuck. Another anxiety attack.
I leaned against the tile and waited for it to pass.
God damn it. Why does this keep happening?