Page 63 of Behind the Bench

Am I imagining things, or did someone just say my name?

Holding my breath, I try to listen for the voice again. A loud bang rings out against the wall and I jump back.

“Yes, Ellie. That’s it. Choke on my cock.”

Holy fuck, that’s Lincoln.

These walls must be paper thin because I heard that clear as day.

My thighs involuntarily clench together.

Lincoln Scott is in the room next to me and he’s moaning my name. Putting my ear against the wall I listen as Lincoln continues to find his release with my name on his lips.

The cold shower is a distant memory as wetness gathers between my thighs. Goose bumps tingle across my heated skin. My stomach jumps with excitement and disbelief with the thought of Lincoln fantasizing about me. My nipples pebble at the muffled, low growl of my name from behind the wall. I imagine Lincoln naked, stroking his hand along his rock-hard cock. My mind flashes to the moment in our locker room when my fingers stroked his length over his sweatpants, which causes my thighs to clench at the memory of his impressive girth.

My hand works its way under my towel, and I feel the mess I’m making dripping down my legs. I quickly find my clit and start moving my first two fingers in a slow circle. My towel drops to the floor and my other hand slowly skims up my body before finding my pebbled nipple.

With Lincoln’s voice saying my name and thoughts of myself choking on his cock, it’s not going to take long for me to find my release. His voice is muffled, but I still hear him through the wall. I work myself in tandem, circling my clit and pinching my nipple, as my orgasm continues to build.

“Fuck!” I hear him yell, and with one last slow circle I trigger my own release. My left hand drops from my breast and clutches the sink as a shockwave runs through my body.Without thinking, I scream his name as my legs begin to tremble.

After a minute, I start to come down from an orgasm that completely rocked my world. Taking a deep breath, I try to compose myself.

Grabbing my towel off the floor, I wrap it around myself while also trying to wrap my head around what just happened. Did I just masturbate to the sound of Lincoln getting off in the room next to me?

That might be the most scandalous thing I’ve ever done.

I walk out into my hotel room and make my way to my closet to grab my suit. I chose a dark maroon for tonight’s game. Setting it down on my bed, I hear my phone vibrate on top of my dresser. I grab my phone and my hand flies to cover my mouth.

Lincoln

I like it when you scream my name, Coach.

My eyes are glued to the game as our guys battle in our own zone. There’s one minute left and New York has pulled their goalie, outnumbering us on the ice. Our fans are all on their feet, pounding on the glass as excitement courses through the arena. New York somehow manages to escape with the puck from the corner, sending it to the front of the net to try and tie the game. Their player finds the puck and shoots a backhand shot that ricochets off the post. My heart stops as I suck in a breath. That was close. Our defenseman takes the puck and skates to the corner to eat up the rest of the clock.

The buzzer sounds, the guys jump up and start hugging each other. Then they hop over the boards to go congratulate our goalie. We just won our last game before Thanksgiving 3–2, and I can’t help but mirror their excitement as I turn to high five Lincoln and Hunter.

Hunter quickly turns to congratulate the rest of the staff, but Lincoln holds on for an extra second before turning to make his way down the tunnel.

Things have been tense between Lincoln and me ever since we heard each other getting off through the wall on our road trip earlier this month. And by tense, I don’t mean in abad, awkward kind of way. I mean in aI-want-to-rip-your-clothes-offtype of way.

Unfortunately, our schedule has been so chaotic, and Sadie is still crashing at my place, which means we haven’t been able to find time to blow off steam together.

We’re going to have to wait at least a few more days because tomorrow is Thanksgiving and we’ll be celebrating together as a team at Niko’s house. Our schedule doesn’t really give us much time off, but we do get Thanksgiving Day off to celebrate. I think only one guy on the team is local to Green Bay. In fact, most of them are from Canada or overseas. There are a couple of Americans who have some family in town, though. Everyone, including their families, is invited to Niko’s for turkey and football tomorrow.

My sexual frustration is at an all-time high, but I am excited for good food and football.

Growing up in the Detroit area, Thanksgiving is always a day to watch football. Every year the Lions play on Turkey Day, and this year they happen to be playing against Green Bay. It’ll be fun to experience the rivalry game with the team, although only Lincoln could understand the significance of the game as a fellow Detroiter.

It’s past ten o’clock at night as I make my way out of the employee entrance to my car. Hunter asked if I wanted to join him and Lincoln for a postgame beer but I declined. I’m making my nana’s famous stuffing for tomorrow and I still have to prep. I probably need to pull apart six loaves of bread for the army of hockey players that will be there.

Niko insisted that he and his chef have the menu under control, but I’ve been feeling a little homesick lately and I want to have a piece of home with me on the holiday. Travel has always been hard on my mom since her accident, so she and my dad won’t be traveling here to celebrate. I’m used to it, but that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier to be away from them on these special occasions. My mom and I may not be asclose these days, but I still miss her immensely. I think I may miss her more because of the strain on our relationship.

Fighting the emotion down, I pull into my apartment complex and park by the side door that leads to my apartment. Thank god there’s an empty space, because it’s cold as hell in this city in November—with the windchill it’s only, like, twelve degrees today. I’m used to the cold but I am dreading the winter here in Green Bay. I pull my beanie onto my head and sprint to the door.

I make it inside in record time but can still feel the chill deep in my bones. I unlock the door to my apartment and push it open. I’m immediately smacked in the face with the scent of homemade goodness. Sadie must be baking because it smells like pumpkin spice up in here.

Walking to the kitchen, I find her bent over, pulling a pie out of the oven. She must have been baking all day because she sets it down next to three other pies on the counter.

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