“Thanks,” I say, feeling my eyelids droop. “Maybe just a quick nap before I go?”
“No problem. I’ll set an alarm, you get some rest.”
The tender press of his warm lips against my forehead is the last thing I remember before drifting into a beautiful, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Nine
Austin
Emi spent the night for the first time yesterday. I’ve slept—meaning actual sleeping in a bed—with lots of women, but it felt different with her somehow. Everything feels different with her, and I’m not sure what to do with that. I know she wants to keep things casual and temporary; it’s the why that I’m not sure of.
Emmélie isn’t just a puzzle, she’s a Rubik’s cube. Every time I think I’m about to have all the colors line up, there’s one that doesn’t match, and I’m left with more questions than when I started. Sometimes I get the sense she’s not telling me something, but I leave it alone. She’s a private person, that much I’ve learned. When we talk about her, she often keeps things vague and deflects the conversation back to me. I don’t mind, I’m an open book—always have been—but I wish she’d let me in a little more than she does.
We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now—just lunch and dinner a few times, usually followed by the kind of dessert that involves little to no clothing. We don’t do the forced role playing every time, but even our regular sex is rough and hard and off-the-fucking-charts.
Last night, she came over to my place with enough sushi to feed an army. Or at least that’s what it looked like, but apparently the girl has learned a thing or two about my appetite, because I managed to devour almost all of it. Albeit with a fork because, despite her best efforts to teach me, I couldn’t get the hang of using chopsticks. I told her my big fingers weren’t made to work on such dainty things. She begged to differ, looking up at me through her dark lashes in a way that made my cock twitch and my dirty mind run rampant. When we finished eating, I grabbed some thin rubber bands and both sets of chopsticks, then I showed her how I liked to use them—as nipple clamps. Later, she admitted to liking my way better.
And then this morning… Damn. Opening my eyes to see Emi’s body tucked into my side, her leg wedged between mine, and her arm across my chest like she couldn’t get close enough…I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about getting up for coffee or wondering how long it’d be until she left and I could hit the gym. Instead, I wrapped both arms around her and held her tighter, my chest swelling when she snuggled in a little more with a soft sigh. I want to protect her, take care of her…and in the dark of night when we let our fantasies out to play, I want to violate her.
After she finally convinced me to get out of bed, I took her to brunch at The Pony on West Belmont. Their food is amazing, and I told Addison I’d go to finalize the arrangements for Roman’s surprise party tonight, so I did the killing-two-birds thing. Afterward, Emi left for a few hours to do some things at the studio, and then she met me back at my place, ready for our night out.
Now we’re in an Uber, on our way to the United Center to meet my friends, and I’m trying not to maul her in the back seat as our driver navigates the organized chaos of downtown Chicago. Emi looks fucking edible in a pair of skinny jeans, white fur-trimmed boots, a fitted, red long-sleeved T-shirt, and a white cashmere scarf encircling her delicate throat that’s giving me all sorts of bad ideas. The kind I need to kick to the curb before my zipper permanently imprints itself on my dick.
Speaking of zippers… I notice her fiddling with the one on her puffy winter vest folded on her lap as she absently chews on her lip. “What’s up, Emi? The idea of seeing a fight on the ice making you anxious?”
“What? Oh no,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear and giving me a weak smile. “It’s nothing, I’m fine. I’m excited to see the match.”
“It’s not tennis, princess, it’s called a game in hockey. And you’re full of shit.” I reach over and lace our fingers together, resting our hands on my thigh. “Come on, fess up. What’s got those beautiful brown eyes of yours darting around like I’m taking us to see a group of mimes?”
Said beautiful eyes widen, and her jaw drops on a gasp. “That’s not even funny. Those things are freaky.”
Laughing, I place an apologetic kiss on the back of her hand. I find it amusing that someone who appreciates all forms of expressive art has a deep fear of anyone with a white-painted face silently pretending to be in an imaginary box.
“I’m sorry, darlin’. You know I would never do that to you.” Narrowing my eyes, I add, “Or maybe I will if you don’t spill what’s bothering you.”
Sighing, she lowers her head to focus on our joined hands. “I’m worried your friends won’t like me.”
Well hell. Emi’s always confident, sometimes to the point of acting like the regal princess I liken her to. But now that I think about it, aside from my apartment, I’ve only ever seen her in her own element. It never occurred to me she might be uncomfortable in my world, but it makes sense considering I’m not entirely comfortable in hers, and I’ve only touched the far edges of it so far. It also hasn’t slipped my notice that she doesn’t seem to have a close group of friends herself; I don’t even think she has a best friend, which I’m pretty sure is a requirement for every female on the planet.
“Sweetheart, my friends are going to love you. They’ll probably like you better’n me and I’ll be stuck having to find new people to put up with me.” When she doesn’t look all that convinced, I drop the humor act. Twisting toward her, I use my free hand to thread into her soft black waves and cup the back of her head as I gaze into those fathomless dark pools I’d happily drown in. “Emmélie, you’re an amazing woman with a quick wit and magnetic personality. I know my friends, you have nothing to worry about. You just need to be yourself, nothing more, nothing less. Got it?”
At last, a genuine smile curves her mouth. “Got it.” She tips her head back, and I’m rewarded with a kiss. I taste her lips, sipping at them again and again. I force myself not to take it deeper, but then her tongue flicks out to test my resolve, and it topples like a house of cards in a wind storm.
My hand fists her hair, my knuckles curling against her nape as I angle her head the way I want. I hear that little sound she makes in the back of her throat when she gives herself over to me, and it makes me fucking crazy. Every. Damn. Time. Growling, I delve inside the hot cavern of her mouth and take control—
Our driver clears his throat. “You guys wanna make the face-off or keep sucking face? I can drive around for a while if you want.”
Emi breaks away and giggles into my chest. We’ve stopped moving, and there’s a shit ton of people passing the vehicle as they walk into the arena. “Clever,” I say wryly to the wiseass behind the wheel, who shrugs as though to say he couldn’t help himself.
Minutes later we’ve made it inside the chilly rink and found our gate. Since we have seats right behind the ice—courtesy of Addison’s NHL all-star cousin, Sam “the Reaper” Larsen—I made sure Emi knew to wear layers to keep her warm. She looks like a gorgeous winter nymph, all bundled up and waiting for me to unwrap her, a present made just for me. My perfect doll. And damn, I can’t wait to rip that wrapping paper off her later tonight. Heat swirls in my balls at the thought and my cock reacts. Thank fuck my Larsen jersey covers my crotch.
She looks up at me, and she must see the insidious thoughts on my face, because she blushes prettily and stretches up on her toes to whisper “Later” in my ear before kissing my whisker-rough jaw.
“Are we going to find our seats, or should we watch the game from up here?” Her eyes twinkle, the right corner of her mouth lifting in a teasing grin, and an image of me throwing her over my shoulder to cart her back to my apartment runs through my mind.
I think maybe as much as I’m looking forward to my friends meeting her, I also want to put it off. Right now, she’s all mine. I haven’t had to share her with anyone, and I probably like that more than I should
. I can’t lock her in a tower like Rapunzel and keep her from everything in the world except me. I have a feeling her father already tries to do that. It wouldn’t be any more acceptable for me to do to her, no matter how many orgasms I give her.
Taking her hand, I smile and say, “Let’s go meet the family.” We reach the bottom of the steps and I whistle to get the gang’s attention. It’s only my best friends and their girls for right now. The rest of our circle will meet up with us at The Pony after the game for Roman’s party. When they look our way, I say, “Guys, I’d like you to meet Emi DeLuca.” Then I point to each person as I go down the line. “Emi, this is Chance Danvers, his better half Jane Wendall, her best friend Addison Paige, and her lesser half Roman Reeves.”
Roman smiles as he sits back and puts his arm around Addie’s shoulders. “Emi, it’s a pleasure to meet you, and we’d love for you to join us. He, on the other hand, can fuck right off.”
Emi’s eyes flash with alarm before she looks at me with concern. I pull her into my side and dip my head to speak so only she can hear me. “He’s kidding, sweetheart. The boys and I would never disrespect each other for real. It’s all in good fun.”
She raises a dubious brow. “You have a strange definition of fun.”
“Yeah, but then you knew that already, didn’t you?” I give her a wink and chuckle when she playfully backhands my chest.
“Emi, we’re so happy you were able to come.” Jane stands, and in true sweet-Janey fashion, gives the newcomer a hug. Surprise flickers over Emi’s face, but she returns the embrace warmly, making me smile. I knew she’d get along well with Chance’s girl. Everyone loves Janey. “Honey, will you move down by Roman so us girls can sit together?”
“Sure, baby,” Chance says as he stands and unfolds to his full Thor-like massive height. “Emi, welcome to the P4H club. Lemme know if you need me to kick his ass for anything.” Then to Jane, he says, “I’ll be collecting for this favor later, sweet girl.”
Janey rolls her eyes, then promptly blushes at whatever Chance whispers in her ear before moving seats. I can only imagine what plans he has for her later. As far as kinks in our group go, Chance’s are the closest to mine. He and Jane get off on rough D/s type sex with some humiliation thrown in for good measure. Mine’s essentially the same but kicked up several notches.
“It’s so nice to finally meet all of you,” Emi says. “Austin’s told me so much about you.”
“Well then we need to level the playing field,” Addison says. “Say the word and we’ll give you all the dirt on Rowdy, here.”
“Addie, now don’t you go tellin’ all my secrets,” I say, half kidding and half serious. Lord only knows what’ll come out of that woman’s mouth.
Like the fact that she and I have had sex.
Roman’s kink used to be sharing his lovers. When he first started seeing Addie, he brought me into their bedroom as their third. It wasn’t every time, and it was never without Roman, but if I had to estimate, I’ve probably been with her around a dozen times.
Eventually Roman realized he wanted Addie all to himself, which was the best decision he’s ever made; she’s an amazing woman who is every bit his equal. As for me and Addie, there’s never been any kind of awkwardness between us. Only the deep bond of friendship and the love I have for both her and that big jerk she’s attached to. But not many people would understand that, and I don’t feel like testing Emi on the subject in the middle of a Blackhawks game.
“Why do you call him Rowdy?” Emi asks as she takes her seat next to Jane.
“Oh, that’s his stripper name.” Of course, Addie completely ignores me, leaning forward to fill Emi in. “Roman’s is Ruthless, and Chance doesn’t dance for anyone but Janey here anymore, but he used to go by Romeo. The Triple Rs.”
Emi laughs, raising her eyebrows in doubt. “Seriously? He told me about the business but not about that. I guess female strippers aren’t the only ones with silly nicknames.”
“They’re not silly,” I say in defense.
“Mine isn’t,” Roman says with his trademark wolfish smile. “I can’t speak for the rest of you yahoos, though.”
Addison pats his thigh. “We know, baby, you’re big and bad and you don’t have a silly bone in your body.”
“Are you saying I’m not funny?”
The girls, Chance, and I exchange looks then all say, “Yes.” Roman scowls, which only serves to make us laugh at his expense. This is how we operate. We give each other shit, damn near nonstop. It’s been our way of expressing our brotherly bond from the time we were fifteen, and the girls have fit right in. I’m hoping the same will happen with Emi.
Janey turns back and says, “So we hear this is your first time watching hockey live. You’re in for an amazing experience.”
Emi’s shoulders scrunch up a bit. “Actually, it’s my first time watching any kind of sport, live or otherwise.”
The guys’ jaws drop, rendered speechless. “Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, too,” I say.
“That’s a damn shame,” Chance says, shaking his head.
“It’s downright cruel, is what it is,” Roman adds. “No one should be deprived of sports, especially not Blackhawk hockey.” Roman’s the biggest Hawks fan of us all. He’s the very definition of fanatic, with his home office like a shrine to the franchise.
Jane frowns. “Don’t be so dramatic. There’s nothing wrong with not having an interest in sports.”
Emi holds up her hands. “I wouldn’t say I’m not interested. I’ve just never had the opportunity to watch any.”
“Well, we’re changing that today,” I say, settling my arm around her shoulders on the back of her chair. “Today, you become a fan of the greatest team in the NHL.”
“I can’t wait.”
“You don’t have to,” Roman says. “Here they come.”
The gigantic jumbotron shows the players exiting the locker rooms, and the energy in the arena swells. Music blares through the speakers, the rink lights up with the words “Our home ice,” and dozens of spotlights fly in wild patterns over the crowd. An air horn sounds off in three long blasts as a spray of pucks shoot onto the ice, followed by the players, who start skating in figure eights to warm up.
Sam gives us a quick nod and salute as he skates by us, and I lean into Emi to point him out. “That’s Addie’s cousin, Sam Larsen. He’s one of the best enforcers in the league. They call him the Reaper.”
She smiles up at me. “Yet another profession with silly nicknames?”
“Yeah, another profession with silly nicknames.” Laughing, I draw her in for a quick kiss. When I pull away, her attention returns to the rink, and I catch Addie creeping on us. Shit, I know that look. Her wheels are turning inside that scheming mind of hers. I can practically see the smoke pouring out of her ears.
I arch a brow, warning her to shut down whatever she’s plotting. She knows I have no qualms about telling Roman he needs to put a leash on his little blond wildcat. Addie returns my arched brow with one of her own, letting me know she’s not the least bit intimidated, which I already knew. She’s every bit as ruthless as her boyfriend; they’re a perfect match.
Finally the game starts, and for the entire first period, I watch as my friends explain the higher points of the game to Emi, who barely acknowledges my existence because she’s so into the action on the rink. It’s awesome. When she isn’t on the edge of her seat, she’s jumping up with the rest of us, hands against the Plexi as she shouts at the players.
At one point, Sam gets into a fight with the other team’s enforcer, and Emi yells, “Rip his fucking head off!” There’s this record scratch moment where she claps a hand over her mouth, and we all stare at her in shock. But a heartbeat later we’re all shouting obscenities along with her and egging Emi on. I told her I’d make a fan out of her, but I never thought it would be so easy. I took one sports-deprived Emi DeLuca, added a couple of front row seats to the Chicago Blackhawks, and boom! Instant rabid hockey fan.
Couldn’t have turned out any better.
The second period ends tied up at three goals each. The guys and I start our analyzing thing where we discuss certain plays and argue over what should’ve happened or what we would’ve done, as though any of us are good enough to be on NHL ice.
“Blah blah blah,” Addison says, mocking us. “Time for a girls’ trip to the restroom. Come on, ladies, chop-chop.”
Emi seems a bit flustered by the sudden demand at first, like she’s not sure what to make of a new acquaintance herding her in the age-old ritual of female bathroom bonding. But no one really gets to say no to Addison. Even Janey tends to go with whatever flow her friend drags her into.
Chuckling, Emi looks at me. “I guess I’m going to the restroom.”
“So I hear.” I smile and tweak a piece of her hair. “I’ll be right here.”
As soon as the girls are gone, I turn to my best friends. Roman stands up and leans against the Plexi while Chance moves into Emi’s seat next to me. I’m curious to know what they think about her. I want them to like her. If I can manage to make this into something more permanent, a good relationship between her and my friends is extremely important to me. “All right, lay it on me.”
Chance kicks his long legs out and crosses them at the ankles, folding his arms over his chest. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure about her at first. She was nice enough, but she seemed to hold herself apart.”
“She was really nervous. I don’t think she’s ever had a close group of friends before, and she’s an only child. What we have isn’t something she’s used to.”
Roman shrugs. “Didn’t take her long to adjust. She sounds like a seasoned hockey fan and eventually stopped wincing every time we told each other off.”
I can’t stop the smile spreading from ear to ear. “Yeah, she’s awfully cute when she’s slamming the other team for being ‘common toothless thugs with sticks.’”
“Don’t worry, I’ll teach her how to smack-talk like a pro,” Addison says, suddenly showing up without Emi and Janey.