Page 33 of Hockey Halloween
My arms are lead when I try to loop them around his neck, tugging his mouth closer to mine. “I’m excellent. Kiss me.”
I love how he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask if I’m sure, instead lowering his lips to meet mine. An unfamiliar flavor hits my lips. It’s not unpleasant, but I wouldn’t call it sweet, the way he prattled on about it amid kissing my lower lips. When his tongue seeks entrance, I grant it.
Xavier is a phenomenal kisser, using his lips and tongue to bring out latent emotions in me, ones I’ve yet to experience. It seems to last forever, the nibbling, the biting, the sucking of my lips and tongue, and when I’m about to shove him away for a deep breath, it’s as if he can read my mind and puts distance between us.
“Gotta grab a condom.” He’s on his knees again, his head tilted to the side. “Can I, uh, take you from behind?” A hint of nervousness lies in his question.
I bite back my laugh. “For research?”
His entire body loosens. “Fuck no.”
“Oh. Then why?” I muse curiously.
“Because my name’s on your back.”
It’s his matter-of-factness that gets me. I scoot out from under him, tucking my knees against my chest, not caring what he sees at this point. “So you can claim me?”
Not deterred, he shrugs. “It’s hot, okay? I’ve never been this hard, seeing someone in my hoodie. Seeingyouin my hoodie, pumpkin,” he amends, strengthening his case.
As if I won’t agree. Like when he uses my first name, using a pet name on the fly—one that fits us—makes me putty in his hands.
“You’re already pushing the limits about two. Now you want to try a new position? Seems like a recipe for disaster.”
“So, no?”
“I say go for it. We have time to try again. And again, as needed.”
Conclusion: Not only are two orgasms in a short span possible, Xavier’s use of creative positions extends to several more hypotheses to test out in the future.
Xavier
I need my head in this game. I’ve already had one penalty for checking. I can’t afford another one. Neither can the team.
We’re down by one, with ten minutes left in the third period. It’s our first match up against Ivybrook for the season, and we’re dragging ass. Not just me, but the rest of the team, too. Seems Coach Ferguson’s pep talks aren’t sticking today. He’ll only be upset if we lose because we’re not playing our best, nor giving it our all. We’re playing sloppy, and when that happens, he’ll be the first to tell you we didn’t deserve to win.
“Hold your heads up. Get back in the game. Show up for your teammates,” Coach calls out to the bench as I hop over it.
I skate out to take my position for the face-off, holding my head a little higher and shoving thoughts of the penalty aside. I’d focus them on Delia, but that wouldn’t be good either.
Hockey. I have to focus on hockey.
Digal nabs the puck when it’s dropped, passing it my way. I skate around the back of our net, Martinez cheering me on. “To the goal, Laitmon.”
That’s the plan. And if not all the way, get it to the next closest Aspenridge player in hopes he can get it into the net.
I survey the ice, making note of the opponents’ positions and my teammates. If Fruin moves slightly to the left, he’ll be open for a pass and lined up for a shot. But hockey moves quickly, and I barely have time to see where everyone’s at before I feel the Ivybrook defender at my back.
“Not so fast, Laitmon,” he challenges. “I don’t think so.” He skates up on my right, his stick poised to seize the puck. He’s fast, but I’m faster.
I slap the puck, calling out to Fruin, hoping the puck meets his stick. Thankfully, the Ivybrook player can’t send me into the boards, though he wants to. The hunger for the win is in his eyes. If we don’t step up, they’ll be the victors. It’s early enough in the season for us to shake off the loss, but we’re on our home turf.
And for the first time in the history of ever, my girlfriend is in the stands. My eyes want to train her way, but I force them to stay on the game and am rewarded with a shot sliding between the goalie’s legs. I’ll take that assist, thank you very much.
I skate back toward the bench, high-fiving the other players, Fruin the hardest. “Way to tie it up.” I hop over and grab my water bottle for a drink.
“It’s a team effort. Your pass set me up.”
“Game’s not done yet. A tie isn’t a win, boys.” Coach’s words penetrate deep. I owe my entire Aspenridge hockey career to him, and I made a promise to myself to show up to every game to win.
