Chapter 11

MAX

If someone told me seeing a girl answer the door in a faded and obviously well worn sweatshirt with my number on it would give me a raging hard on when I still played? Then added it would be worn by the one-night stand, who turned out to be my little sister's best friend?

Pretty sure I'd tell them to fuck off.

When she opened the door wearing my number, it took everything I had not to growl like a fucking caveman, scoop her over my shoulder like I had the other day and fuck her. Wearing my number. The lie about my place spilled out way too easily. The rain offered the perfect excuse, and thankfully Sophia hadn't pushed for more details.

On the drive over, I ran through at least a dozen possible scenarios. From a flood, to one of the players playing a trick and shoving gum in my lock.

In reality, who the fuck knew what was going on at my place? My only thought as soon as I caught a glimpse of Sophia as she slipped back into her office was how wet she had been for me the other night. How my number looked branded on her ass. How badly I wanted to fuck her until we were both boneless and passed out until the morning. When I would slide my cock into her from behind so I could wake her up the way she deserved.

The only kink in my plan was if Jules gave Sophia the key to her place while she and Kas were away for the night. Normally there was no way players would get the chance to take off, but sweeping the first round of games gave us a pretty decent recovery period considering the other series was tied and looked to be going to seven.

But, if Sophia had the spare key? Fucked and all for nought.

Luckily, when I went to check their hiding place, the key sat, just waiting to be hidden away in the bottom of my gym bag with all the toiletries I brought to practice just in case I showered. A few times, I had a few of the trainers and coaches scrimmage for a skills game, and liked to be prepared.

I peeled off my wet clothes, dried off with the towel Sophia handed through a crack in the door after knocking, and stepped into the black sweats in my bag.

And headed out to see if I could get one more of her walls to crumble.

"What the hell is that?"

"What the hell are you wearing?"

I pointed at the tiny ball of fur, Sophia glared at the black training pants that hide…well, nothing.

"That is a kitten, and he doesn't have a name. Yet. Where's your shirt?"

My hand rose, shirt and other very rain soaked clothing grasped in it, as she glared at me. "Wet." Also not above standing out in the rain a little longer. I pointed down the hall to where the washer dryer closet was located. "I assume since you haven't had a chance to do laundry yet, that it's safe to toss these in the dryer? And since when did you have a demon-"

She stomped over, and shoved me in the direction of the dryer. The second her hands touched my skin, an electrical current jumped between us. Hot, fierce, and filled with every dirty, filthy fantasy I'd had on top of the times I'd made her come for me.

Loudly. Multiple times. Fuck.

Sophia jumped back, and quickly scooped up the kitten. "Don't even call him a demon spawn." An adorable if not annoying noise came from the hairy thing in her palm. "Although it worked out pretty good for Kas and Daisykins. And Jules. Damn, I just realized, yet again, how lucky Kas is to have not one, but two pussies at home," she called after me as I threw my damp clothes into the stackable dryer.

THUD.

I slammed the door shut, and turned it on. My hand twitched, remembering her ass, her whimpers, and how she responded every damn time I touched her. Before I made it two steps closer to my prey, the lights flickered again. Her eyes widened a fraction. "I tried to call Jules, but-"

"She turned her phone off, and so did Kas. Romantic getaway, sexy time, couples massages, more sexy ti-"

"I get it, Sunrise."

One side of her mouth titled up, eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam. "Are you sure? Cause I could go over it a few more times?"

I growled her name, but it didn't deter her. If anything it spurred her on. She offered me her back and headed into the kitchen, giving me the perfect view of her long legs. When she reached up to grab a candle from a shelf over the sink, her well worn sweatshirt hiked up just enough to flash a glimpse of her boy shorts. Hugging her ass. Where I knew my number still marked her right cheek. Boldly. And without shame.

Just as I knew she hadn't tried to wash it away. The heated way she watched me in her office and what she wore spoke volumes beyond any vocal protest she could attempt.

I meant every letter I inscribed on her thigh. Mine.

The flick of the lighter as she lit the bright red candle from the box I sent her illuminated her face, the pleasure evident in her the way she breathed in the scent. When the lights danced off and back on one more time, I asked, "Tell me you have more, or we'll be sitting in the dark in a few minutes."

"At least I won't have to endure you glowering at me if they do," she grumbled as she placed the glowing jar on the counter. I followed her movement hungrily as she reached up into the upper cabinet again. "Of course I have candles, Coach Grumpy Pants. What kind of girl do you take me for? I could open a candle store with the ones I have stashed around this place. But," she sighed as she turned back to me, two double stacked candle jars in each hand, "that one is my absolute favorite. It's hard to find."

Fuck yes, it was. Little did she know I bought a damn case of them.

For her. I'd buy a damn cargo ship full if it meant seeing that expression on her face every time she smelled it.

Sophia lit a few more as the lights dimmed, brightened, then went off. "If we're doing this, might as well do it right." She grabbed out two highball glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "Nothing like a few extra boys and bourbon on a rainy night."

"Didn't these guys play vampires or something?"

"Oh, they most certainly did. It's where my morally gray, older men kink started."

I glowered at her. "I am not morally gray, Sunrise." She flushed as she gave me a look, her cheeks pink, and fuck I loved it. "But the other part…and a few other kinks, I'd guess."

Her laugh filled the air as she poured a finger's worth, downed it, and plunked a few cubes in the glasses. As she poured, the smell of the bourbon and the candle combined with her scent. My cock decided it was its favorite thing other than being inside her. "Please, you're a defenseman. You live in morally gray."

"Coach. Player days are over. Now, I just order…everyone to do what I tell them to do. And punish them when they don't."

The amber liquid poured a little extra in one glass. The ice crackled as she handed me the very full glass. "Are they?"

If the question came from anyone else, I would've laughed it off. But then I noticed the way her eyes were already a bit bright. "Is this the first drink you've had tonight?"

A shrug told me all I needed to know. "A girl needs to unwind, and I was planning on a solo date night. Even bought myself dinner." Her brow wrinkled. "Or two."

White cartons covered the coffee table. "I've seen you eat, Max Vaughn." Her face flushed at the innuendo. "Dinner. Get your mind out of the-"

"Drink."

"What?"

She raised her glass. "Every little sex-minded comment, you drink. House rules."

"Does everyone play when they come over?" I asked. My tone darkened as I imagined Hale making sex-minded comments and her throaty laughter fueled by alcohol.

"Nope." She popped the ‘p', and fuck if my cock didn't twitch as her lips pursed then parted. "Only you, Coach Grumpy Pants."

Not taking my eyes off of her, I took my penance. We stared each other down even as the fire between us burned brighter. A few moments ticked by, until she cleared her throat and gestured at the takeout cartons. "I know you're hungry, so have at it. But," she warned pointing at me, glass in hand, "the fried rice is off-limits. You can have the egg rolls."

I nodded, my mouth twitching as I feigned a serious and solemn expression even as my eyes fixated on her lips once again. Full. Pouting. Tempting. "Understood."

We sat in silence for a few moments, passing the white paper containers back and forth.

"I didn't know you knew how to use chopsticks."

"When I was younger, my dad was stationed overseas, and when he came home, he taught me how to use them." The memory of our weekly dinners that year hit me the hardest, because Jules was too young to remember. "One of the other Marines had family near the base, and they'd have dinner once a week with them. When he came home, he kept up the tradition. Well, the best way he could." I dipped my chin toward the almost empty feast spread out before us. "Might be why Jules loves having ‘family dinner' once a week. Takeout style."

"Why, Max Vaughn, I do believe your grumpy shell cracked a little there," she murmured. Eyes bright with emotion.

"Don't be fooled. The grumpy is always there."

"Oh, I don't know about that." She looked pointedly at my lap, where her little fur ball had curled up sometime while we had been eating. And fell the fuck asleep on me. Laughter danced in her eyes, lips twitching. When she grabbed her phone, I held up a hand.

"Don't make me-"

"What? Take me over your knee again?"

I glowered at her, and murmured, "Exactly. Drink, little girl."

"Touché." She toasted me, and eyes never leaving mine, drank. Licked her lips, head tilted.

"Don't tempt me, Sophia. Despite what you're probably thinking, I'm trying to respect some of your boundaries."

White teeth bit her bottom lip, and I stifled a groan. "I think," she practically purred, "you just don't want to disturb Gerald."

"No self-respecting cat is named Gerald."

She sat back with a grin. "See? Softie side. All you needed was a little pussy."

I glared back at her, and said in a dangerous tone as she shifted in the oversized chair she sat in, knee brushing mine. Distracting me and making me think of all the things I could say, and if she would blush. "Drink."

Her eyes danced with a challenge as she tipped back her glass and poured another from the bottle in the midst of our shared dinner.

"Mitchell? Pete? Iceman? Come on, you have to admit, Top Gun is yours, and Maverick is mine. OOH! Bob!" She bounced up and down, hair falling out of the haphazard bun on top of her head, the sweatshirt hiked up. Miles of legs and skin exposed, and begging to be licked. Marked. Hell.

"Iceman is mine." Sophia grinned like she won the lottery.

"Oh, Iceman," she purred, "don't tell me you're jealous of a little….pussy?"

This woman would be the fucking death of me. But what a way to go.