Page 19 of Pucking Unhinged
I press my face into her hair and breathe her in like it will keep me alive.
If I don’t have her fully, and soon, I’m going to lose my fucking mind and take her to hell with me.
WINTER
“We should sneak back here before the game ends so we can miss the crowd,” Madi says as we walk down the hallway that leads from the hockey locker room and up to the arena. I don’t think they should have a game the day after the carnival because everyone is tired and feels like shit.
Lilac chimes in, “You know how squirrely the guys get when we’re not here right after they’re finished showering and changing. The crowd is going to be a nightmare to get through.” It’s senior year, and the first home game is always a big deal, but especially since this one is against St. Augustine.
Madi and Lilac’s words blend together, muffled by the thoughts in my head that have been buzzing around all morning. I’m walking between them, nodding when I need to, pretending I’m part of the conversation.
But I’m not.
I’m not fully here.
Not really.
My head is still in the sitting room with Tristan last night.
The way he couldn’t get close enough to me even before we sat down to read. The way his voice lowered to that tone that I’mdelusional enough to imagine no one else has ever heard from him before.
The way his body tensed when I turned in his arms, the subtle shift of his breathing as he read. It was as if he were trying to stay calm. Trying to stay focused on anything but the way we fit together. We shouldn’t fit so perfectly with our size difference. He’s gigantic, and I feel so small in his hands, yet so powerful at the same time.
He thought I was asleep when I shifted, my thigh brushing over his hardness. I couldn’t sleep with him lying that close. Not with the way the sound of his voice makes everything inside me ache. He was losing it last night, I’m sure of it. He wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted him to. Maybe that’s why I pretended to be asleep so he could get the relief he so desperately needs but won’t take from me or anyone else. I kept my breath soft and slow while the muscles in his stomach tensed beneath my leg.
I felt him, all of him in a way that I never have before.
I would imagine Tristan’s mind, the twitch of his cock against his jeans when I shifted just slightly should have scared me. It should have made me remember the pain, but instead I wanted him to pull me on top of him. I wanted his eyes on mine this time as just the tip slid inside of me. I know Tristan better than anyone else in any universe will ever know him, and I’m fully convinced that we could erase the trauma of that night. We could make each other feel good, erase the pain that was put upon us by evil people who don’t deserve a second thought from either of us.
Heat pools in my lower belly when I think of the sharp inhale of his breath when I moved my leg again, dragging the warm skin of my thigh over his bulge.
But it was the quiet, strangled sound he made through his nose when he came that I can’t unhear. I want to hear it again.But I want to hear it right against my ear, in the crook of my neck when he’s coming inside of me.
I don’t think I’ve breathed right since I woke up this morning swaddled in the colorful quilt Madi, Lilac and I made together on one of our girls’ nights. Tristan was changed into fresh clothes, showered if his damp hair was any indication. Instead of cuddled up with me, he was across the room, just watching me sleep.
Tristan doesn’t know I heard everything, felt every little twitch of his muscles. I need to be very careful how I navigate this going forward because I could see the guilt in his eyes when our gazes met this morning.
Tristan won’t let me help him.
Not like that.
Not in the way I so badly want to.
It doesn’t feel wrong to me, not even a little bit.
That’s what I can’t stop thinking about.
It should’ve. I should have some reservations of some kind, but I don’t. It should have felt wrong, even if just a little bit.
The truth is, it felt inevitable.
It felt like something I’ve been waiting for without letting myself admit it.
“Winter.” Madi bumps my arm gently. I blink, forcing myself to look up at her.
She smiles, and it’s an action that’s pure Madi, all warm and bright. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “Just spaced out.”
