22. Sammy

Sammy

Each year, the NHL goes on pause for a few days over the holiday season. No trades during the break, and then at least Christmas day off. This year, the Vipers are getting a whopping four-day vacation with the way our schedule falls.

I visit my dad in the hospital on the twenty-third, before we head to Detroit for an away game. The hospital smells like it always does: alcohol and cleaning agents and the sweet, stale scent of whatever they’re cooking in the cafeteria.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy,” Madeline, the nurse says, passing me as I walk into the room. I smile at her, and at the little drawing of Santa someone left of my dad’s whiteboard, right next to the squares where they track his intake, output, and medicine cycles.

“Merry Christmas,” I say back. She nods and walks into the hallway, so I turn to Dad.

It seems like he’s thinner every time I visit him, though the weight tracked on the white board shows that he’s only gone down ten pounds thanks to the feeding tube.

His head is propped on a pillow, his eyes closed. As always, I start working my way around the room, replacing the old flowers with a Christmas bouquet. I turn on a football game on the TV—the Packers are playing, and their familiar green and yellow jerseys fill the screen.

“Hey, Dad,” I say, voice low. I glance out to the hallway to make sure nobody’s paying attention. “Wish I could talk to you about something—some weird stuff going on right now.”

Letting out a low chuckle, I continue moving around the room, fixing things up and making sure he’s comfortable before I sink into the chair by his bed.

“You know that elite athlete coach?” I go on, voice just above a whisper. “Well…I think I’m really starting to like her. And not just because she’s single-handedly improved my game. But she’s this like, weird kind of intense. Maybe—maybe a little like Mom, you know? Knows what she wants. Doesn’t take any shit.”

I let out a laugh and glance at the screen where several Dallas players are piling onto a Packer, stopping him just outside the goal. If Dad were watching, he might stand and throw his hands onto his head, muttering something about a foul. He never shouted about sports, but he would pace, shaking his head like a disappointed father instead of a frustrated fan.

“Anyway, we’re getting involved. I know you would tell me that’s stupid. But there’s just…something about her. Like I can’t stop myself.”

I pause for a moment, glancing over my shoulder again, heart thudding. Finn wanted this to stay a secret, but I had to tell someone. And the one thing about my dad is that he couldn’t tell a soul even if he wanted to.

Taking a deep breath, I turn back to him. I have an hour before I have to get to the airport, so I might as well fill him in on what’s going on.

“It kind of started on Halloween…”

***

We beat the Red Wings 4-2. Brett and Fallon fly right out of Detroit to the cabin, but Finn and I head back to the hotel, walking in at different times and going to our separate rooms before rendezvousing later.

“You were sloppy tonight,” she says, while I give up on her blouse buttons and grab the hem, pulling it off right over the top instead. “I’m worried what kind of example I’d be setting if—”

“I was sloppy because I didn’t get to have you in your office,” I growl, hands tightening on her hips. “And I didn’t see you at all the day after that.”

We’re in her hotel room, which is, in true Finn fashion, perfectly tidy. Brett was surprised but excited about the news that she’d be coming with us, and didn’t press when I said absolutely nothing was going on between us. Fallon said the more the merrier.

We could have flown out with them, but I wanted a night alone with Finn. A night in a hotel when the rest of the guys were taking off in different directions, going to spend holidays with family.

Now, I press her against the wall, wanting her closer. The door barely closed behind me before she was hauling me in by the front of my shirt and getting her hands on my skin.

Finn lets out a little noise when I press my lips to her neck—there’s this one spot, just above her collarbone, that drives me crazy—and pushes her hips against mine.

“I shouldn’t let you make excuses,” she says, breathless. “None at all.”

I want to say, “So punish me,” but I don’t. Instead, I just grab her ass and lift her, loving the way she automatically wraps her legs around my waist, cinching tight enough that she doesn’t fall. And tight enough that my erection presses against her core.

I curse under my breath at the feeling of it, hot and ready for me.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” I mutter, when she grinds her hips against me.

“Who?” she laughs, hot and breathy. “Me?”

“All this time,” I say, turning and walking her to the bed. “Twice now I’ve made you come, and I still haven’t gotten my cock inside you.”

“Hmm,” she hums, eyes shining as I lay her down on the bed, the excitement already thrumming through me at what’s coming next. I’m going to take her clothes off, lay her out. Finally run my hands over every inch of her body.

The first time was hurried, frantic. It felt like a fluke, like I might never have her again, so I’d rushed to make her come, to get my mouth on her. And the second time was nowhere near enough—just her fingers on my cock. Cut off by Penny returning with a lunch neither of us wanted to eat. But now— now I get to have Finn just the way I want her.

Slow.

Unhurried.

“Maybe I should keep making you wait,” she murmurs, as I kiss down her neck and to her chest, biting at her peeking nipple through the unpadded, silky material of her bra.

“Fuck,” I mutter, the sight of her nipples and her teasing working together to make my cock jump. “You wouldn’t fucking dare. ”

“You’re tempting me,” she whispers, as I lower my head further, kissing along the flat plane of her stomach and down to the ridges of her hips. I plant my hands under her ass and lift her hips toward me, kissing the bone and down across her navel.

Every part of her is perfect, smooth, soft, taut— fuck .

When I part her with my tongue, she’s already dripping for me, and the sound she lets out is intoxicating, a low moan from the back of her throat. A rumbling, desperate, animalistic sound. Needy.

Remembering what I’ve already learned about her, I apply the right amount of pressure and speed, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, then pulling back at the last second and replacing my tongue with my thumb, loving how loose and warm she is from my mouth.

“Sam,” she hisses, and once again—that nickname should hurt, but for some reason it doesn’t. “Fuck, what are you—?”

“You gonna let me put my cock inside you?” I ask, breathing hard, arm shaking with restraint. She’s so close to the edge, and all I want to do is send her over. Watch her body shake, watch her ride on the wave of pleasure I made for her.

But I also want to get inside her. And teasing her might be the way there.

“Fuck, yes,” she hisses, and my heart thrums when her legs fall open, a low whimper erupting from the back of her throat.

“Yes, what?” I say, surprised at my boldness. Going with it, I lean forward, grinning down at her, feeling some sort of strange power. “Ask for it, Finn.”

When her eyes meet mine, there’s a fire behind them, and for a moment, I think she might not. That her pride might get in the way.

Then, in the sultriest voice she’s ever used, she says, “I’d like your cock. Now , Sam.”

“Beg me,” I insist, sliding my finger down until I’m at her entrance. I push a single knuckle in, watching as her mouth makes a tiny “o.”

Once again, I think she’s going to tell me to fuck off. Remind me that she’s the one who gives the orders again. Call off the entire deal.

But she doesn’t. This isn’t normal, put-together, in-charge Finn. This is a come-apart woman. A completely different animal altogether. Her hair loose on the pillow, her eyes dark and shining at me. Her legs open, her wanting on my fingers.

“ Please ,” she says, husky voice sending a shiver straight to my cock. “ Please fuck me, Sam.”