A/N: Thank yous to Team Spiderward for all you do. xx
Song inspiration for this chapter: “Yeah, Boy,” Kelsea Ballerini
(Playlist for this story can be found on my YouTube channel, if you search for “ghostreader24”)
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. The NHL owns anything that sounds familiar. I’m here having fun.
/ /\ (oo) /\ \
At Edward’s prompting, I change out of my work clothes in his bedroom, remove my blouse, and happily accept his T-shirt filled with his delicious scent. I shimmy out of my skirt, then unhook and slide my bra through an armhole, leaving me in only my underwear underneath. The shirt is long enough that it brushes me mid-thigh, and I do feel more comfortable. I reach for the ponytail holder, releasing my hair and running my fingers through the strands.
“There. I think I’ll sleep in this tonight. What do you think?”
As I knew it would, my casual mention of getting ready for bed prompts my favorite crooked grin. There’s no sleeping mixed in his current thoughts, I’m positive.
He leans against the doorway, watching me. “I think I missed out on the perfect view with that bra trick of yours, but Doc, I’m always ready for bed with you.”
That’s what I thought.
“Let’s get back to work.”
Edward only laughs as he follows me into his office. We probably take more breaks than we should while unpacking his treasures, but who cares? I can’t resist his kisses, and I’ve never had so much fun. It is amazing to learn about Edward’s successful career, despite what life has thrown at him along the way, especially losing a parent so young. When we have everything removed from the table in the center of the room and uncover one of his latest purchases, we confirm my suspicions.
“I’m horrible at this.” I huff, slightly out of breath, and wave toward the digital score that reads seven to zero.
“You only need to practice.” His hopeful gaze meets mine. “How about we play another game?”
I leave what Edward explained earlier as the mallet on the table. “Maybe after dinner. I’m getting hungry. Are you?”
“I’m always hungry, but I need to take care of Scout and Shadow too.”
I grab my wine glass, and we leave his office, walking toward the kitchen with him leading the way.
“Why don’t you take care of them and I can fix our dinner?” I offer. “Did you have something specific in mind? It’s a night before a game. So, I’m not sure if you eat the same thing every time, but I can follow your chef’s directions and help out.”
He grins. “There’s salad, salmon, and pasta in the refrigerator waiting for us.”
“Is it the same meal we had on Wednesday?” I wonder. “Because that was delicious. I wouldn’t mind a repeat.”
“No. It’s a slight variation, but only in flavors. Typically, I stick with salmon and pasta on the nights before games, then chicken and rice after a game. Sometimes I have to mix it up when we’re on the road, but I try to keep my eating as consistent as possible.”
“But, we went to a steakhouse on our date the night before your game, and you won.” I point out, then recall the food we each ate. “Wait a minute. You didn’t eat steak, only I did. You had . . . salmon and ordered it differently from how it was listed on the menu. I remember that. And your pasta wasn’t—”
“On the menu. I need it to be simply dressed. They know me at that restaurant. So my requests are expected, and they’ve always been accommodating.”
“Do you ever have a cheat meal?” I wonder.
“Doc, do I look like I eat cheat meals?” he asks, removing our dinner from the refrigerator and setting it on the island.
My eyes roam over his bare chest and perfectly sculpted muscles. “No, but I’m wondering what would be your breaking point? Since I don’t think it’s sweets and doubt you would keep a chocolate stash like me.”
“You’d be surprised.” He opens one of the kitchen cabinet doors, pointing to a lower shelf with a Nutella jar and a variety of perfectly organized nesting storage containers, holding candies and chocolates.
“You have contraband!” I gasp, walking toward the goldmine and start giggling. “This can’t be right. You don’t eat this stuff.”
Edward chuckles, wraps his arms around me from behind, leaving a kiss on my neck. “You’re right. I don’t, but you do.”
“Damn. You’re not playing fair. I’ll never leave at this rate,” I tease.
I recognize everything and conclude quickly these are leftovers from the Halloween bag he created for me. How can he live here with so many goodies and not be tempted? I’m thinking at least one of those mini Snickers bars is screaming my name as my eyes dance over the choices. I bet that jar of Nutella is unopened, then another thought suddenly occurs to me. I probably already know the answer, but spin in his arms and ask anyway when I don’t see them in the cabinet.
“By any chance, are there mini peanut butter cups in your freezer?” I tilt my head in that direction.
“See for yourself.” He smiles knowingly, releasing me to find out and moving to refill my wine glass.
I watch him as I open the freezer door. When I glance inside, my eyes are drawn to their location front and center. They’re in a clear container and even labeled with my nickname.
“You’re fast.” I close the freezer door and lean against the island. “You only found out about the peanut butter cups and Nutella on Wednesday. Today is Friday.”
He steps closer, caging his arms around me. “Doc, I pay attention to important details, and everything about you is important.”
There’s no resisting him when he does such thoughtful things like this. Or says such mushy words.
“Thank you for my chocolate stash.” I kiss his puckered lips. They’re sweeter than any candy and much more difficult to resist.
“You’re welcome.” He pecks my lips once more. “I want you to be comfortable when you’re here.”
I point toward the open cabinet behind him. “Do you think you can set me up with a couple of those mini Snickers bars?”
“Sure.” Edward grabs the container, opens the lid, and waits while I debate taking two or three. “Grab as many as you want,” he says with a smile as if he can read my mind.
Three it is.
I grin. “It seems you have me all figured out.”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.” He winks.
“Back to my earlier question—what would be a cheat meal for you?
“Guess,” he says, removing one of his specialty drinks from the refrigerator and shaking it.
I consider the possibilities while I open my little Snickers bar and take a bite. “Maybe a big juicy burger and fries?”
Edward shakes his head. “I have better versions of those I prefer and can eat regularly. So that wouldn’t really be a cheat.”
“Or possibly pizza? You lived in New York. I’ve never had it, but some people are really passionate about their pizza.”
He nods. “I’ve enjoyed a slice or two while I was there, but it isn’t something that I couldn’t live without.”
Edward takes a long drink from the bottle, then removes two bags of pet food, filling Scout’s and Shadow’s bowls. The sound draws them to the kitchen immediately. I’m contemplating what else he would consider a cheat when a thought suddenly occurs to me.
“I know!” I point toward the direction of his office, recalling his favorite vacation spot. I can picture him allowing himself to indulge during something like that. “I think it’s something Mexican.”
“It’s anything Mexican, Doc.” He jerks his chin toward Katie’s classwork on the refrigerator. “My niece outed me in her poem about my love for guacamole. James is a regular and loves Javier’s here in Dallas. He likes to celebrate occasionally there after a win. I have to be careful what I order during the season, but I’ve been there more than a few times with him and others from the team.”
“So, you splurge only during the off-season?”
“Not necessarily. But if I do, then I make it count.”
I nod while I open another little candy bar. “This feels like when I was a kid and forgot I still had candy leftover from any holiday, but especially Halloween. I’ve hit the jackpot.”
Edward grins, finishing his drink and pitching the container in his recyclables. “I’m going to take Scout and Shadow for a walk.” He disappears down the hall and returns with a leash and a jacket. “We’ll be gone for about a half hour. Are you sure you’re okay with getting our dinner started by yourself?”
I wave off his concern. “I’ve got this.”
He nods. “Well, everything you need should be located intuitively around the kitchen. When Maggie started working with me, she reorganized my kitchen one day.”
I chuckle. “Okay, believe it or not, this isn’t my first time in a kitchen. Let’s hope I don’t need to eat my words in case I burn everything, but your freezer is full of backup plans if I need one. Your gas range is a little intimidating, but if you trust me with your Spider, then I should be able to handle this too.”
With empty food bowls, Scout sits patiently as Edward clips his leash to his collar and Shadow climbs onto her spot at his neck.
Before they depart, Edward leans close to kiss my lips. “We’ll be back soon.”
“Prepare to be wowed when you return,” I promise sassily.
He smiles. “I already am.”
While finishing my last Snickers bar, I read Maggie’s clear instructions that declare everything should be ready within twenty minutes. Edward’s kitchen is a dream, and between sips of wine, I move around it with ease, finding everything I need.
While the salmon cooks in the oven with a mix of sliced zucchini and yellow squash, I divide the salad between two plates, giving Edward a majority, as my new candy stash has taken the edge off my hunger. I locate a sauté pan and reheat the precooked pasta on the gas range. When it’s close to ready, I toss it with freshly cracked pepper and grated parmesan per Maggie’s directions.
The sound of the door opening as I’m removing the salmon from the oven brings a smile to my face. There’s a bit of scuttle at their return. The door closes, and I hear Edward’s firm, “Sit,” before Shadow enters the kitchen first. She’s followed by Scout and a beaming Edward.
“Damn. It smells good in here and looks even better.” He winks, leaving my lips with a quick peck. “I need to wash my hands. Are we ready to eat?”
“You know it, and nothing’s burnt,” I brag at my success.
“I knew there was nothing to worry about, Doc.” He slips off his jacket and walks to the sink, muscles flexing, distracting me with his sexy tattoos on display again.
/ /\ (oo) /\ \
After our delicious dinner, I refill my wine glass and we return to Edward’s office. Before we focus on cleaning up the mess of shipping materials scattered everywhere and finish hanging his jerseys in the hallway, he makes a request.
“How about another game of air hockey?”
There’s no refusing those eyes that twinkle with a child-like spark of excitement over a new toy.
“Okay, one more, then we need to get back to work. Don’t forget you’ve got an early bedtime,” I tease, and his grin widens.
This game isn’t a shutout like the last one. Mixed between our laughter and my shrieks, I realize Edward’s bringing out a competitive side of me that I didn’t know existed. My game play is all over the map. I consider flashing my boobs as a possible distraction at one point, because I can barely concentrate playing against a shirtless Edward.
Even though I only took a couple of required general physics classes during college, I’m positive my undergraduate professors are hanging their heads in shame, because this game is one of angles. I’m just not hitting the right ones.
The intensity of the back and forth increases as the puck rebounds, pinging loudly off the sides before making the satisfying clink into the slot on Edward’s side. It takes a moment for me to realize what’s happened, and his face says it all. I’ve scored a goal against him—a professional puck tracker. My surprise morphs into a victorious screech, pumping my arms over my head.
“Did you see that? I broke a sweat to make that happen.” I wipe my brow dramatically. “I think I should retire immediately and end my air hockey career on a high note.”
He shakes his head. “There’s no retiring in your rookie season, Doc.”
“Well, that goal was sheer luck. Unless—you let that happen on purpose?” I raise a challenging eyebrow.
“I did nothing of the sort,” he denies, but with the smile on his face, I’m not so certain. “Stop stalling, Doc. Grab your mallet and let’s go.”
It’s no surprise that he’s the first to seven points again, but I still have fun, even if Edward let me score on purpose. I suspect it’s all part of his plan to keep me playing. After a round of victory kisses for the winner that I enjoy too, we get back to work and focus on removing everything that will be recycled from the room, leaving it in the entry. Upon my return, I hear Edward laughing while leaning over an open box.
“Wow, look at this.” Edward holds up a chest protector against his body. “I don’t think it fits me anymore.”
“Not even close,” I agree with a laugh.
His eyes shift to mine with a smirk. “But it will you.”
“It looks a little small, even for me. How old were you?”
“Probably early middle school, but I remember this set because I loved the design. Goalie gear is more expensive than standard gear. I remember I had a growth spurt that year and barely wore this set. Mom was pissed I didn’t get more use out of it. That’s why they’re in such good shape. You should try them on.”
“Yeah. This way you can feel how much they weigh, and understand the limited mobility that comes with wearing them. Come on. For me? It will be fun.”
There’s no denying his excitement over my trying everything on while he pulls each of the items from the box.
I am a little curious about what he experiences, and as I look over his equipment, I can’t resist making him happy with such a simple request. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Edward’s beaming smile at my answer nearly melts my heart.
“How about you stand over there where there’s plenty of open space? You can hold onto the table, if you need to steady yourself. This will take a little time, but I think we’ll leave off the pants,” he says with another wink.
At his request, I move to the end, bracing my hands on the side of the air hockey table and attempt to hold still, which is nearly impossible with his first light touches on my legs. With the tug of every strap across my bare skin and click of each buckle, it becomes clear that I’m not the only one affected by the fastening process.
While attaching the leg pads, I feel the tickling touch of his increasing breaths. Edward’s masterful fingers work the fasteners closed as they probably have a million times. I had no idea something like this would be such a turn on for either of us, but damn, it is. I’m having difficulty controlling my breathing when he finishes the leg pads. His fingers linger, brushing over the fastened straps from below my calves to my thighs and back. When he leaves an unexpected kiss on the back of my knee, my eyes close and my legs nearly crumble at the surge of feelings.
His voice is low when he finally speaks from where he’s kneeling beside me. “How do they feel? Too tight anywhere?”
“I don’t know.”
“Walk around a little.”
I release a deep breath, taking a few tentative steps. “Whoa.”
A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “For the average player, full gear weighs around twenty-five pounds, but for a goalie it’s about fifty. This is a junior set that weighs less. These pads alone are probably about six pounds.”
I turn around in the hallway and shuffle back to where he’s waiting. “Okay, this isn’t easy.”
“Let’s do the chest protector without my T-shirt.”
I raise a challenging eyebrow at his suggestion.
“It will fit better.” He chuckles, but even I know there’s no truth in that statement and nod toward the chest protector in his hand.
“In case you haven’t noticed, my chest is larger than a twelve year old boy who is big for his age.”
“Oh, Doc.” He stands and leans close, planting another kiss on my lips. “Trust me. I’ve noticed.”
He pulls his T-shirt I’m wearing from my body, tosses it behind him, and pushes the chest protector over my head, guiding my hands through the armholes. I finger comb and gather my hair to the side while he attempts to tug it into place. Our ridiculous laughter increases when it’s clear my ample chest is more than it can contain.
“It’s a heavy side boob kind of fit,” I conclude with a knowing smile.
Edward wiggles his eyebrows. “This is the stuff of every hockey player’s dreams, especially me.”
His fingers work the adjustments on my arms and bare back until I’m comfortably secure in his gear.
“How does it feel?” he asks.
“The back is a little drafty,” I tease, at what is similar to a racer back style of bra, but that only widens his grin.
God, he’s irresistible when he looks at me like that. He leans in and kisses my waiting lips.
“Here, try the glove and blocker, then walk around a little.”
I slip my hands into each and do as he requests, feeling the weight of each piece starting to add up. It’s difficult to move and bend, but I crouch into a ready position I’ve seen him do and wiggle my hips.
“Now, all I need is a—Really. Big. Goalie. Stick. Can I borrow yours?” I ask, while my eyes roam his chest, landing on a bulge I’m particularly fond of and licking my lips.
“Doc . . .” His voice is low and rough, getting my attention.
When my appreciative gaze returns to his handsome face, it’s clear my words have hit their intended mark. My heart feels as if it may beat out of my chest, putting me at the receiving end of his desire-filled eyes.
“Well, can I?” I prompt with a tilt of my head.
Apparently, my not so coy request isn’t lost on him. While I could put the cushioned leg pads to good use, Edward has other ideas when his mouth crashes against mine. I drop the glove and blocker, wrapping my arms around his bare shoulders. He lifts me onto the edge of the table and guides me backward. I’m not prepared when my almost bare back comes into close contact with the steady soft air pushing through hundreds of little holes on the playing field of the still running game. My body arches into his at the unexpected sensation.
Edward groans into our frenzied kisses, slides his arm around my lower back, and pulls my hips flush against his. There’s no denying the big stick he has nestled between my legs, making a very convincing argument that I need to free him immediately. His other hand moves under the chest protector, squeezing my breast with every grind of his hips and prompting my own frustrated moans of desperation.
With the leg pads still attached, I can’t bend my legs or wrap them around Edward, but I need more. I push my hand between us until I pop the button of his jeans and lower the zipper swiftly. Edward whimpers into my mouth when my hand shoves away the material, pushes past his waistband, and encloses around him.
He pulls away panting and rests his forehead on mine. “Fuck, Doc.”
I grin because that sounds like a perfect plan to me. “Yes, please.”
His smile returns, matching mine. I reach lower with my other hand, shift my underwear to the side, and guide him to where I need him most. Edward glances between us for a moment where his cock is perched.
“Ready, huh?” Edward doesn’t wait for my answer, causing my voice to catch at his heavenly intrusion. “Tu es toujours tellement mouillée.” He pulls his body from mine with ease before returning again. “You’re always so wet.”
“That’s what you do to me.” My hands return to his tousled hair, tugging his head until his lips are back on mine.
He pulls away slightly. “And another goddamn G-string? I think this one is on purpose.”
“Maybe.” I smirk.
He sets a steady pace while his mouth returns, devouring mine, and his hands roam frantically. They’re everywhere—clutching my thighs briefly while he pounds his cock into me. My chest heaves uncontrollably when he pulls his lips from mine.
“Tu es un régal pour mes yeux,” he says, his heart-stopping gaze roaming my body. “You’re a feast for my eyes.”
His hands push higher until they’re back under the chest protector. He squeezes my breasts, pressing them together and causing my hardened nipples to rub deliciously against the rough material with every thrust. I moan at the feeling and reach out, searching for anything to brace my body against the force of his hips, but I have nothing to hold me in place. When Edward realizes I can’t halt my movements away from him, he removes his hands from under the protector and grabs onto the straps at my sides.
With a powerful tug, he brings my hips to meet his, hitting a spot inside of me relentlessly that renders me momentarily speechless.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck.
With every shift of my body at his will, shivers race across my overheated skin. The cool air at my back feels like a chorus of little steady breaths, covering me in goosebumps. It’s all too much. There’s no holding off my impending orgasm at this new angle, and my body helplessly succumbs to his.
“Oh, fuck. Edward,” I gasp, closing my eyes tightly as my orgasm barrels through me. My back arches before my hips lift searching for more from his, desperate to ride out the incredible warmth as it floods my body. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced—except with him. Every damn time.
“Tu es tellement belle quand tu jouis,” he whispers, slowing his movements as he draws out my pleasure, then leans over to capture my lips. “You’re so beautiful when you come.”
His hands slide under my back, holding me against him while mine wrap around his shoulders. He remains buried inside of me as my eyes open, and I give him a lazy satisfied smile. “That was . . .” I shake my head, attempting to get my bearings.
His grin widens. “Good?”
“In-fucking-credible.” I kiss his smiling lips until the room is filled with his increasing moans with every scratch of my nails along his back. My tongue pushes past his lips, craving more of him with every taste. I can’t get enough. “God. I need more of you. We should . . .”
“We should do what?” he asks between bruising kisses.
“Switch places.” His pants mingle with mine as I make my request. “I want to try something.”
“You want me to stop?” Confusion mars his handsome features.
“Well, not stop exactly. I think you’ll like this.” I pat his shoulder. “Will you help me off the table?”
I suppress my chuckles threatening to erupt at the look of disappointment that passes over his face when he slips from my body during the transition. Once he’s leaning against the air hockey table, he lets out a gasp when I drop to my knees, making it clear what I want.
“Doc.” He holds onto the edge of the table with both hands. Those white knuckles bring a smile to my lips.
He’s still wearing his jeans with the fly open, and I tug them lower, exposing his still-hard cock completely to my view. My hands slide over his cloth-covered thighs until one wraps around him. Our eyes lock when my hand passes smoothly back and forth with each stroke. His hips jut toward me until I guide him toward my mouth where my tongue reaches out, licking the tip.
“Ohhhh, fuck. You don’t have—”
“Oh, but I do.” I smile, sucking the head into my mouth and releasing it with a pop. “How else am I going to try out these leg pads? I can’t think of a better way.”
“So smart.” He winks.
“Mmmm.” I hum around him, taking more of his length with each pass. “You taste as good as I thought you would.”
He reaches out, pushing a wavy strand of my hair behind my ear. “That’s you.”
I pause and look up at him. “No, it’s us.”
“Fuck.” He weaves his fingers into my hair at the back of my head, gently guiding my movements. “Is this okay?”
“Mmmhmm.” My muffled response delivers vibrations, prompting a deep rumble in his chest.
“Your mouth feels amazing—so soft and warm.”
When I suck him with more force, hitting the back of my throat, his voice breaks, but he never stops watching me intently.
My hands roam over his thighs, moving to squeeze his ass before returning to his cock. Cupping his balls, I rub them softly, loving their feel in my hand. As I increase my pace, his chest heaves with exertion. When he removes his hand from the back of my head, his thumb drifts lightly across my cheek, prompting me to look at him.
“Je vais jouir dans ta bouche.” His gentle voice contrasts sharply with his body, which is tensed with undeniable restraint. “I’m going to come in your mouth.”
His warning does nothing to deter my actions, and I only hum my response, shifting my hands to clutch his thighs. I want his release. I need it as much as he does.
Through half-lidded eyes, he gasps as he pulses, filling my mouth. I swallow around him, not missing a single drop. As I lick him clean, he softens slightly.
He pushes my hair from my face and chuckles deeply. “Keep doing that and you’ll get another mouthful, Doc. I promise.”
I grin proudly. “I’ll take it.”
“Damn.” He pulls me from my knees, plunging his tongue deep in my mouth and kissing me breathless.
I pull away for a moment, catching my breath, and share an idea I think he’ll like. “We may need to repeat this whole experience at some point in the future. Like tomorrow. And the next day.”
He looks surprised at my suggestion. “You want to spend the weekend with me?”
I shrug, trying to contain my excitement and hoping for more time with him before I leave in a little over a week. “I have an appointment tomorrow morning, but I could pick up some essentials before that from my place. Then I could be here until Monday morning. You still have your game tomorrow night. Are you the starter?”
“I could hang out with Scout and Shadow and watch the game here. Maybe even have dinner ready afterwards. You probably have a morning skate on Sunday, but I could stick around here for the times when you’re home. What do you think?”
“An entire weekend?” he asks, as my favorite crooked grin appears. “What am I going to do with you all to myself?”
“I’ve heard you may have some ideas.”
“Oh, Doc, I do.” He smiles wider than a kid on Christmas morning.
A/N: A special shoutout this week to fanfictionalcolic for giving my French an extra look. She’s the best! Thank you, S! xx