Page 83 of Friendzone Hockey
“What about the other stuff you said?”
“The part where I told you I think about fucking you every day of my life? Or when I promised you you’d come with my name on your lips?”
My hand finds its way to my cock. Ugh. Why’s there all this material in the way?
“No,” he says in a bossy voice that stops me in my tracks.
“Why? Clearly, you want to—want me.”
He takes my hand, showing me the ring on my finger, reminding me I have it. “You ready to take this off yet?”
“I …” It takes me a second to catch my breath.
“That’s a no. We’re not doing anything more while you belong to someone else.”
“You’re not acting like I belong to someone else.” He’s still got my hand. He’s threaded his fingers through mine. “Wanna know what I used to think about?”
The giant beast of a truck lurches toward the shoulder, then quickly snaps back into the lane.
“Dash,” he warns.
“I want to know what it’s like to sit on your cock.”
He licks his lips but doesn’t say anything. I take his silence as permission. “I’d just sit on it as if I’m the place it goes home to. Because I would be its home. It doesn’t belong anywhere else.”
Am I as good at the dirty talk as he is? No. But I’m saying facts—important facts.
He likes what I’ve said. I can tell. He’s breathing carefully, crushing my hand.
Stacey’s right, though. I can’t do this while I’m engaged to Syd. Maybe I shouldn’t be engaged to Syd.
“I think we should turn around,” I tell him. He’ll know what that implies.
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Stacey!”
My phone goes off, thankfully interrupting that argument. It’s the group chat. We’ve added a few people—Rhett, Logan, Mercy, and Sutter—as time’s gone on and we’ve collected partners. Huh, I can’t see myself adding Syd. He’s even older than Mercy, does he even want to be in a group chat with mostly twenty-something-year-olds?
Syd doesn’t know my friends that well. We were only getting to a hot and heavy place last off-season, so we went on a lot ofdates. I spent all of Syd’s spare time with him—he was working a lot then. We all left for hockey in September, and when I saw Syd, it was usually in Kelowna where most of my friends weren’t.
My eyes flick to Stacey, whose eyes are on the road, but at least he doesn’t appear as torn up as he was when we first entered the vehicle. Actually, there’s a twinkle in his eyes. What is he up to?
If he’s not going to tell me, I can be up to something, too.
Since we’ve collected an abundance of alpha Toppy types, I’ve toyed with the idea of starting a brat chat. I thought Casey would have by now, but he’s been too busy getting laid to do much else.
Guess it’s up to me.
It’s hard not to laugh with delight, feeling like I’m doing something “naughty” while I add Casey, Logan, Dirk, and Jack to the new group.
“What are you up to over there, brat?” Stacey says.
“Me? Nothing at all.”
He holds out his hand. “Gimme the phone.”
I smirk. “Not a fucking chance.”
