Page 62 of Replay
I whimper in pleasure before being swung up and over Hawke’s shoulder. I don’t fight; I don’t do anything but grip the back of his shirt and hold on. The Zamboni has cleaned the ice and the crowd has cleared out, leaving the lights mostly off in the arena. Hawke carries me to the nearest bench, inside the penalty box, that's the most hidden from anyone who may walk through the arena. He strips my sweatpants and panties off, tossing them to the ground before pulling my sweatshirt off next. Goosebumps break out on my skin and a shiver runs down my spine.
“I’ll keep you warm, Em.” He leans in, his lips kissing mine. Hawke shoves his pants down enough to get his cock out before sitting down on the bench and helping me to straddle his waist. I’m already soaked for him, after our stare down during the game, his promises in my ear, and the way his hands had roamed over me like I was made for him just moments ago.
Hawke lines up the head of his cock at my entrance, his hands on my hips, guiding me down his length. I take all of him, sliding down and grinding my hips for good measure. Hawke’s eyes blaze with his devotion and love.
“Fuck, yes. You’re so perfect, sweetheart. Choke my cock.”
I rise up and down a few times, adjusting to his thick dick, trying to take all of him. I whimper and he grabs my hips, yanking me closer, our eyes locking.
“You look so beautiful taking all of me.” He thrusts himself inside, filling and stretching me.
I moan and my body instinctively starts to take what I need. My hips buck and grind up and down, bouncing on his lap. My clit is rubbing against the base of his dick and I know I’m getting close. My nails pierce his skin, my fingers digging into his chest, under the jersey he wore. I clench my pussy around him, wanting to drive him to the same pleasure.
“I love you. I love you so much, Hawke,” I whimper.
“I love you, Emmarys. I love you so fucking much. Never leave me. I can’t survive without you,” he groans and wraps an arm around my naked back, pulling me in and taking my mouth with his.
Hawke’s kiss is consuming. His lips devour mine, sucking, biting and pulling until my lips are red and puffy and soft. My hands have moved to his shoulders, one gripping his hair, while he continues thrusting up and inside me. My orgasm is approaching fast and my motions are becoming jerkier.
He slides his hands higher, grabbing my breasts and pinching my nipples with enough pressure to drive me over the edge. My orgasm crashes into me and I come, pulsing and tightening around him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His eyes slam shut and his body grows taut, his own release hitting him like a tidal wave.
We both sit there trying to catch our breaths, breathing each other in afterwards. Hawke’s hold on me tightens, and I lay my head against him. “This was the best win ever.”
I feel his lips in my hair. “It was. You’re a dream on the ice, Emmarys. I’m so proud of you. I love watching you skate.”
My lips tip up in a smile. “Thank you. That means a lot. But just so you know, I was talking about the post-win celebration.”
He laughs and I feel lighter, like the world isn’t ending because of a picture. I don’t have the nagging feeling to check comments or to care. My body is relaxed and humming and it's all because this man loves me.
We get up and get our clothes situated, sneaking out of the arena and into Hawke’s truck before he brings up the jersey again. My shoulders lift and I avoid his eyes.
“I was thinking of your tattoos and I wanted to feel confident in claiming you. It's your birth month. I love wearing it.”
His mouth drops open and we come to a stop sign. “When we get home, I’m going to give you twenty seconds, Em. Twentyseconds to strip down, put your jersey on and get on the bed. That’s the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I giggle, and shoot him a flirty glance. “I thought wearing your jersey was the hottest thing ever?”
He shakes his head, his hand holding mine before bringing it to his lips so he can kiss my wrist. “You’re claiming me. Any time I see part of myself on you, I feel feral.”
We pull into the parking lot and he turns the truck off before turning toward me. “Better run, Em. The timer started.”
emma
. . .
Glancingdown at my phone again makes my stomach drop. Still no messages from Hawke. Since last night I’ve sent him three separate texts and they are still sitting on read.
ME: Good night! I love you.
ME: Kick ass today QB!
ME: We won our game. I saw highlights that you did as well. Miss you! See you tonight.
At first I blew off his lack of response on the fact that they had a travel day yesterday and last night they were doing team building before the big game. It was the final college football game of the semifinals before the National Championship. Hawke has stunned many spectators and other athletes with his ability to make it this far on a new team after leaving Texas. I was so proud of him, and if I hadn’t had my own away game today, I would have traveled to see him last night. Which is why I had made sure to reach out and let him know I was supporting him.
Since our relationship has been made public, we’ve navigated the uncharted waters with care and consideration of each other. Now that I have been working on my own fears, it has made it easier to address any larger worries together as a couple. We’ve been unstoppable. I fall more in love with him every day and the future seems less scary. The fact that I haven’t heard from my boyfriend now in over twenty-four hours is uncharacteristic of him. I can’t ignore the nagging feeling in my stomach that something isn’t right.
