Page 47 of The Trophy

I watch the corded muscles in his forearms, taking in the details of his colorful tattoos; a blonde tiki girl on the inside of his right forearm and another one on the left one.

It’s definitely another pin-up girl; a brunette in a red bikini with a martini glass in her hand. There’s more to it though and I trace the edges of it with my fingers as Blaze takes care of sliding his jeans off his powerful thighs.

It isn’t a regular girl that’s pictured on his arm, after a closer observation, I notice that she has little red horns and a forked tail.

My attention is momentarily diverted to the work of art that’s Blaze’s torso; there aren’t any other tattoos on his body but the valleys and ridges of his sculpted pectorals and his washboard abs are perfect in their own right.

“What’s up, pretty girl?” Blaze asks, noticing my careful perusal. “Everything ok?”

I nod, looking at his arms again as he runs gentle fingers up my calves. “Everything is great. I was just looking at your tats. I had noticed the tiki girl before, but what about the other girl? Is she some kind of demon?”

He laughs, embarrassed. “Not any demon. She’s the devil.”

Luca, who’s come to kneel behind me, supporting my back against his thighs, intervenes. “Why do I sense a story there?”

Blaze’s blush deepens. “Kinda. It’s stupid anyway.”

“Nothing about you is stupid,” I say, knowing how much Blaze hides behind the surface of the brawny team’s enforcer. “I’d love to hear the story, but not if you don’t want to share it.”

His pulls on my legs, hiking them up his hips.

We’re almost lined up so that he could easily enter me with a little push of his hips, but he doesn’t.

His thick, long fingers trace the seams of my inner thighs, touching my slit from entrance to clit.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t share with you, Lake. I have no secrets from you. I’m not particularly proud of the story behind this tattoo but it’s a part of what made me the person I am today. I know when Bay bought you those dates, you weren’t exactly excited to go out with any of us.”

“I was a little nervous,” I offer.

He shrugs. “Yeah, I get that. Most of us don’t exactly have a stellar reputation on campus. I mean, sure, we’re popular and there’s no party we don’t get invited to and all that shit. It’s been like that the second I set foot on campus for freshman orientation. Star Cove really loves its athletes, especially the hockey and the football teams. I let it all go to my head and for a moment, I lost track of why I was here.”

My curiosity is piqued. “What happened?”

Blaze’s fingers continue tracing my bare skin, up and down, up and down, narrowly avoiding my over sensitive clit but skating nearer to it with each pass.

I’ve just come hard and yet, I feel my body respond to his hypnotizing touch with a dull throb and hot, liquid desire he uses to help his fingers glide on my skin.

“What happened was that I lost track of why I was here. Freshman year is a blur of parties and hookups. I can barely remember any of it. There were weeks, especially once the hockey season was over, that I wouldn’t even bother sobering up.”

While Blaze is playing with my pussy, Luca’s big, gentle hands are caressing all over my chest, tracing the side of my boobs and skimming down to my ribcage.

His warm breath tickles my neck as he commiserates with Blaze. “Hair of the dog,” he says. “Been there, done that. Did your game or your grades suffer?”

Blaze shrugs, his eyes fixed between my legs. “Not so much. Our old coach, Coach Andrews, caught me hungover a few times. He talked to me once about the conduct he expected from the team, but he didn’t do anything because my performance didn’t suffer.”

I find it hard to believe that Blaze could play hockey and do his schoolwork in a constant drunken haze. “How is it possible that drinking like that didn’t affect you?”

“You’d be surprised how quickly an eighteen-year-old can bounce back from a little excessive partying.”

Luca agrees. “Yeah, you might be feeling like complete merda (shit), but there’s something to be said about muscle memory. You were lucky your old Coach wasn’t like Coach Harrison. He would have sliced your balls off with the blade of your skates.”

Blaze’s eyes flit up to meet mine. “Yeah, our old coach had a much softer approach. Maybe that’s why we never won Frozen Four. We made the playoffs but we always got our asses kicked once we faced the best teams from the other conferences.”

I bring the conversation back to Blaze’s tattoo, squirming a little when one of his thick digits slides inside me; it’s mostly out of surprise, I’m wet enough that my body offers little to no resistance. “So did you get that tattoo when you were drunk?” I ask, thinking about how Luca got his frenulum piercing after a wild night out.

“No. I told you I was hooking up left and right and I didn’t discriminate between puck bunnies, sorority girls or girls I met in class. There was this girl in particular, I met in philosophy 101. We became friends after working together on a group project and sober Blaze would have known not to fuck where he ate. Nothing good ever comes from messing around with someone you see just as a friend. But an entire bottle of vodka between us definitely muddied the waters and we woke up together one morning after spring break. I usually would have slipped out of bed and disappeared but she was a friend, so I took her out to breakfast.”

His finger is pumping in and out of me at slow, almost languid pace. My body is melting around his touch as heat begins slowly building up in my core.

---