15. Vera

My mouth is on Robbie's the minute the hotel room door snicks shut behind us. I deserve an Olympic medal, an Oscar, an Emmy, something, for making it all the way through dinner, especially because Robbie is a fantastic kisser.

"Is this okay?" I ask as I press him into the door and push up on to my toes to better reach his neck.

He groans, one hand spasming on my waist as the other thuds against the doorjamb.

"Is that a yes?" I drag my tongue up the column of his throat and bite into the skin under his ear. Robbie pulls me into his chest, his free hand slamming back against the solid metal frame. I almost smile, thinking about what that must've sounded like to anyone out in the hall.

His hand fists in my hair, my clip clattering to the ground.

"Is that a no?"

He takes my mouth in a bruising kiss, tongue sweeping past my open lips to taste. Another groan pours out of him and I swallow it down, pushing my own hand into his hair too, fisting the silky strands at his temples. He shudders.

This kiss isn't smooth or practiced. It's hungry and wet and desperate. Our teeth clack together and my lungs ache for air, but I don't pull back. Neither does he.

My hands slip over his shoulders and down the firm lines of his chest. His muscles tense under my fingers and I dig my nails in just a touch, just enough to remind us both that this is real. We are real.

Also real? The very large, very hard bulge pressing against my belly button. I can't resist canting my hips to provide some friction between us, and Robbie breaks free from our kiss to suck in a sharp breath.

"I'm still waiting on that ‘yes' or ‘no,'" I tease, as if my libido isn't spiraling out of control and I'm not in danger of dripping down my thighs. I press them together just in case.

Robbie catches the movement, one corner of his mouth turning up as he drops his hands to bracket my hips.

"Vera, if there's ever a time where I say no to you, I want you to beat me over the head with my hockey stick and run me down with the Stand's Zamboni."

"Little extreme," I say, sliding my fingers along the neckline of his shirt.

"Not really." He bunches the fabric at my hips. "Not when you consider the fact that you've starred in every one of my fantasies since I understood sex."

I blush. Hard.

"Flatterer," I slip my hand into the top of his shirt, feeling the line of his clavicle. There's a fine layer of hair there now, different from the smooth skin of my memories.

"Truther." He says.

My hand stills.

"It's been sixteen years, Robbie. I won't fault you for being with someone else."

I don't want details, but I can't hold it against him. I've dated. Sorta. I've gone out with people. Sometimes for PR, sometimes for fun. Just because nothing was ever serious doesn't mean it couldn't have been. If I'd ever gotten Robbie out of my head, maybe one of them might've stood a chance long term. Maybe I would've welcomed someone to share myself with. It's a moot point now, anyway. I don't want to think about his other exes. Not when he's here in front of me, hot under my hands.

"Vera," he cups my jaw, tilting my head back until our eyes meet. "There was never anyone else."

Robbie took his jacket off back at the reservoir, after we bared our souls and stuffed ourselves with bread and cheese. It makes it easy for him to reach over his head and yank off his shirt, dropping it at his feet. I'm only human. I can't help the way my eyes zero in on the dark hair circling his navel and leading down to where his erection tents the front of his pants.

"Casual sex, whatever. It's fine."

I hate even thinking about him with anyone else, and I know that makes me a hypocrite because I may not have had any serious relationships, but casual sex? Yes. A girl can only use her battery-operated devices for so long before she gets lonely. But I still would rather dig out my eardrums with a rusty nail I found on skid row than think about him even looking at another woman.

"Vera."

I lift my eyes to meet his and that's when I see it.

I notice the color first. Pale purple and vibrant yellow. Even under the dark hair on his left pectoral, it gleams at me, drawing my gaze like true north draws the needle of a compass. There is a delicate, colorful, picture-perfect aster flower. Tattooed right over his heart.

My fingers trace up the green stem, loop around the curve of each petal. His muscles twitch and his chest expands as he sighs.

"There has never been anyone else." His pulse thunders under my touch and mine races to match his. "I know you've watched me play."

I loop my arms around the back of his neck and his forehead presses to mine.

"Only every day since fifth grade." I want to kiss the tattoo. Sink my teeth into my flower on my hockey player.

Robbie smiles.

"I meant since I was drafted,"

I know I said I've caught a few games, but that was a lie. I've watched every time he's hit the ice. I record the games I can't watch live. It's the one way of following him that Tandy allowed. Even if we both knew I was full of shit when I tried to pretend I was just an avid hockey fan. I've seen him score goals on totally illegal streaming sites when I'm abroad. I've watched him scowl at opponents, slam the puck past a million goalies, and point at the camera before each…

The world screeches to a halt.

"I saw an interview you did last season." I close the space between us, pressing the front of my body to his naked chest. "It was about game day superstitions. You refused to talk about yours."

His hands are on my waist again, "Some things are—"

"Private. I know."

Because his superstition isn't one he'd share. His pre-game ritual has history and even when he thought there was nothing between us, no chance for a future, he still didn't change it. Before every game he played—even though he assumed I wasn't watching—Robbie would stand on the ice for the anthem, hand pressed across his tattooed heart. And as the last bars of O Canada faded into the stands, he'd kiss his palm and point at the camera.

All those years.

It wasn't just his heart. It wasn't just a kiss,

It was my flower.

It was for me.

"I've been looking at this all night." Robbie loops his finger under the silver chain of my necklace. "I didn't get a good look at first, and then I was distracted, but I know what this is." He tugs gently, and I hiss at the pressure against the back of my night. My eyes go heavy lidded as Robbie smirks. "At first I thought I was seeing things. But I'm not, am I?" A kiss to my neck along the links of silver and I whimper.

"How long have you been carrying this necklace around Vera?" His lips trace the metal. "Was it stashed in the back of your jewelry box? Did you pack it up and bring it home because Kimmelwick brought up memories?"

His mouth presses to the pendant, dipping into the barest shadow of my cleavage. It takes three deep breaths before I can put together a sentence.

"I wear it every day."

"You—what?" Robbie pulls back, staring deep into my eyes like subtitles are printed on my irises. "My initial? Every day?" It almost sounds like he can't breathe.

"Is that so hard to believe?" He squeezes his eyes shut, at my question. "Don't you wear me?"

I kiss my palm and press it to his tattoo, then I pull his head down and suck his lower lip into my mouth. Our kiss goes from zero to sixty in the span of a heartbeat. I dig my nails into the skin of his chest and he hisses against my lips, chasing my mouth as I suck in a breath. He fists my dress again, dragging it up to pool around my waist, and without my skirt in the way, I can wrap a leg around his hips. He boosts a hand under my ass and then both my legs are hugging his torso.

"Vera."

He steps away from the door, carrying me to the foot of the closest bed. I bounce when he drops me on the coverlet. "I'm going to last about thirty seconds here, so you have to tell me how to make you come."

"It's been that long?" I'm teasing him as he skims his hands up the outside of my thighs.

"My right hand's a pro, but I don't think that's going to help much." He grins and I can feel his smile as he presses a kiss to my bare shoulder. "It's been sixteen years."

That fact did not compute. Not in my brain. He said there was no one else, but I didn't realize he meant joint orgasms, too. He hasn't had sex since me. Since he surprised me for prom and I offered myself up to him as if it could make him stay. Spoiler alert: it couldn't.

My lips part as I take in a shaky breath. I'm already drowning in heat, sweat a fine layer on my skin despite the overpowered air conditioning.

He tries to pull down the top of my dress, and it won't budge. I hold in my laugh.

"There's a zipper," I tell him and prop myself up on my elbow before guiding one of his hands to my back and the tiny zipper hidden in the underlayer.

Robbie's fingers slip over the tiny piece of metal, too big and unpracticed to get it down blind. His brows pull together in a frown as he tries again. I'm biting down on my lips, holding in my laugh. I don't want to smirk or do anything to let him know how cute his fumbling is. In my experience, guys don't respond well to that.

Although they rarely ask for instructions or guidance either and Robbie's done both. Usually I'm slow to build and most guys lose interest and don't appreciate direction. It's easier to use a toy, or fake it and handle business on my own. I don't want to do that with Robbie. The guy has also survived off only self-handies for over a decade. I don't want to put too much pressure on one sexual encounter. We can always take a nap and try again.

There's a muffled curse and then the world is spinning and I realize Robbie has used his grip on my hips to flip me to my stomach.

"This okay?" His voice is deeper, a growl that vibrates through my bones. Mine is breathy, almost a stutter as I say, "yes."

He leans forward and grips the zip tab with his teeth and drags it down my spine and fuck. Did I say it takes a lot to get me there? Robbie's going to make me eat my words.

His nose tracks down my spine, rubbing over each vertebra. I'm a dripping mess by the time my dress is fully open, my thong soaked.

"Lift your hips baby," he grumbles against my skin and I'm trembling as I shift so he can pull the linen off me. "Okay?"

We're better than okay and I nod into the pillow, shifting my body against the bed. Anything to get some sort of friction on my nipples. I feel teeth as Robbie teases the curve of my ass.

"You're better than my fantasies," he says and I spread my knees, hoping he gets some sort of hint. "Fuck you're soaked." A finger slides over my pussy, more erotic than anything I've ever felt, even through the silk of my panties. "Tell me how to get you there. These don't come off until you come."

I nod into the pillows, a small sound escaping my throat.

"My clit," I say, each word punctuated by my panting breaths, and his hand cups me more fully, the pad of one finger finding ground zero. I jolt against the mattress and hear him chuckle.

"Here?"

I nod, "Circle it. Please."

That I can still talk is a damn miracle. I wouldn't say he's naturally skilled at playing with my body, but it doesn't matter. Every touch is the best I've ever had because it's him—Robbie Oakes—with his hand on my pussy. I ache.

His fingers make featherlight rings around my clit. It's just the right spot, but I need….

"Harder," I beg. "Please."

He does. His thumb rubs against my lips, teasing my entrance, and my stomach is already coiling tighter as my clit throbs under his touch.

"Look at you, baby." The words whisper over my skin, pulling everything tighter, fanning the flames higher. "Fuck, you're a vision. I have dreams about these freckles." His lips touch the skin of my back. "Want to know why I give Spags such a hard time? He brought your swimsuit issue to the locker room once. I almost put my fist through his cubby. That's how he knew about us. How everyone knew."

God, his words. My strong, stoic Robbie reduced to rambling as he plays my body with just one hand.

"More," I say, rocking my hips. Fuck, I need more. He presses harder and I shake my head. This isn't enough. My inner muscles clench on nothing. His thumb is right there, at my entrance. He just needs to slide my panties aside.

"Could you come like this, Vera? The first time? With just my hand over your underwear like we're teenagers sneaking around again? Can you give me this first orgasm before I get your panties off? If I get to see your pussy, I'm afraid I'll lose my mind and this will all be over for both of us. Give me one first, please."

It's his words that do it. The small coil of tension pops and the pleasure pulses through my core, through my legs, through my mind.

"Did you just…?"

Did I just?

I nod.

There's a long, drawn-out curse behind me, and then cool air as my panties are ripped from my body. It stings along my hips but his tongue licks it better, and then his mouth is right there, over my entrance, and I'm still face down on the bed, legs spread as he breathes hard over my sensitive flesh.

"Can I?" His lips brush mine and I shiver. I also don't answer fast enough because he slaps a hand on my ass and asks again.

If ever there's a time when I say no to that offer, I want someone to run me over with the Zamboni.

The sound I make is straight out of a nature documentary, but Robbie reads me loud and clear as he kisses me between my legs. I can feel his hair on my inner thighs, the scrape of his beard against my clit. I squirm, not sure if I want to escape or get closer. His hand cups the back of my knee and pushes it up and out, giving him more room to work.

"Stay," he says into my skin, and the heat builds faster than I thought possible, especially for a second round. He alternates between circling my clit and sucking on it directly, each pull tugging directly on the knot of tension deep in my belly. "Tell me what you need, Vera."

How can he sound so calm when I feel like I'm about to pop out of my skin? The pressure from his mouth is perfect. His tongue is hot and wet, and my hips rock to chase the feeling.

"Where…" I have to stop to suck air into my lungs. "Where did you learn…"

His tongue spears into my pussy and my muscles clamp down as the pleasure whips through me again. For a girl who rarely comes without a vibrator, this is insane. To be fair, once I get myself going, the fun keeps coming—or, rather; I do—but this is romance novel level shit. My thighs are shaking as his mouth softens against me, moving from deep sucking kisses to soft caresses against my sensitive flesh. I wiggle out of his loosening grasp, turning to face him.

Robbie's mouth and beard are shiny wet from my arousal and his pupils are blown wide, the black almost swallowing the honey brown of his irises. Pink tinges his cheeks and his hair looks like I've had my fingers tugging on the strands. He looks debauched and ready for more. And shit… he's still half dressed.

"I," he says, licking his lips like he needs to chase the last taste of me, "could eat you for every meal and it would never be enough."

I bite down on my mouth to stop my moan.

"Can I return the favor?" I have a feeling I'm going to feel the same way.

Robbie's hand is at the front of his pants, pressing against the bulge of his erection. I know he must ache. He hisses at my words, squeezing his cock even through the linen, his face looking pained. I reach for his waistband, my fingers just brushing the front placket when he stops me.

"Vera. No."

No is a complete sentence, but I'd be lying if my feelings weren't a little hurt. I draw back and duck my head. I don't want him to feel like he has to let me suck his dick.

"If you get your mouth or hands on my dick, I'm going to come. I want to be inside you once before that happens."

Well, that was decidedly flattering.

"Do you need a minute?" I ask, "Or can you take your pants off now?"

His trousers pool on the floor before I finish my sentence and then he's climbing up my body like a starving beast hunting its prey. I lie back, letting his arms bracket my head as his shoulders block out the overhead light. He dips his nose to trace a line up my neck.

I spread my thighs so his hips can settle between them, surprisingly slim given the rest of his size. I'm used to tall guys, especially in the modeling world, but even there the muscles are carefully built for show. Robbie is all brute strength. Not designed in a gym, but built from hours upon hours of time on the ice. He makes even me feel small. Delicate.

I find his mouth with mine, tasting the tang of my arousal on his lips. I love this. My taste on his tongue, my flower on his heart. The head of his cock right there at my entrance. He drops a hand to squeeze the base, his gorgeous eyes rolling back as they close. I'm so wet he can slide in with no problem, but I'm pretty sure he's trying to rein himself in more than aim.

I rock my hips because he feels good here, over me, but also because I like seeing the way the little white lines bracket his mouth and feeling his muscles lock down.

"Fuck, Vera. Slow down. Condom. We need… I don't have…I didn't think…"

"Bedside table," I whisper in his ear, because I did think. From the moment I straddled him in his hotel room, I knew—or hoped—we'd end up right here. A box of Trojans was a simple thing to grab.

He pulls a small foil packet out of the dresser and opens it with his teeth. Something that shouldn't be sexy in its own right, but has my legs shifting to grip his hips better. He shuts his eyes as he tries to roll the latex over his length, clearly unpracticed. I cover his hands with mine.

"Let me." I push him back until he's sitting on his heels, then I pinch the tip and roll the rubber down. Robbie's shaking by the time I squeeze the base of his shaft. I want to drag my hand back up his length, committing his size and shape to memory, but his heavy breathing tells me not to push my luck. "Sit down."

"Wha—" he sits back on his ass, legs stretched out in front of him and I throw one thigh over his. His cock twitches between us, and even through the latex I can see the smooth, dark red head and a pearly bead of pre-cum at the tip.

"Trust me." I push up on my knees and position myself above his erection. "Ready?"

Robbie nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows, and I notch him at my entrance. I lower myself slowly, feeling the stretch and fullness as I adjust to his size. I splay my thighs, pushing down until he bottoms out and when his hands flex on my hips I can't help but whimper. He feels good. Better than good. Best I've ever had and we've barely started.

"Fuck Vera. Don't move." Robbie's eyes are screwed shut. "You feel better than I remember. Better than… fuck." His hips shift undermine, but the angle won't allow deep thrusts. I clench my inner muscles and he curses a blue streak, fingers biting into my hips.

I loop my arms around his neck and lean back, feeling his cock bump into the front wall of my pussy. His hips jerk as if he can't help it, and my vision whites out as he hits something fan-fucking-tastic.

"There," I moan the word and Robbie grinds up into me, hitting that same spot again and again. I picked this position to prolong the sex because I control speed and depth, but I didn't know it could feel like this .

"God your tits." His mouth fastens to my left nipple and I moan, circling my hips as the tension winds higher. "How are you even prettier than I remember?"

"Designer clothes and a nauseatingly expensive haircut?" I pant in and out after every word.

"No." He says the word around my nipple and my whole body twitches. We both groan. "My brain had to protect me somehow. Had to pretend you weren't everything I ever wanted so I could make something of myself."

"Robbie," He switches his attention to my other breast, his hips slapping up into mine. Everything inside me spasms. "I need you to touch me."

His hand drops to my clit, circling just the way I taught him.

"Vera," he pants my name, "I'm gonna…fuck baby… I need you to… please."

I'm not sure I'm going to make it with him. Not surprising given the two orgasms I've already had, but I don't want to break his heart. This feels amazing. He's turning my muscles to jelly, and just as I'm trying to figure out what I should do, his hips stutter, he groans into my chest, and I surprise myself as I come again.