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The first time she’d gone down on me, she’d seemed… explorative? Not tentative, but like she was testing the water. Seeing what I liked. What made me gasp and tremble.

This time?

Oh, fuck. Whatever cheat codes she’d been looking for the first time, she’d committed to memory. The way she’d swirl her tongue around my clit and send me almost to the edge, then back off and start over again, taking me just a little bit closer each time—she’d been incredible at edging me last time, but my God, it was like she knew exactly how to do it now. When I rocked my hips, searching for more of her talented lips and tongue, she moaned and gave me more.

I bit my lip and worked my nipples harder as she continued working her magic on my pussy, and it wasn’t long at all before I was precariously close to that edge.

“Don’t stop, baby,” I whined. “Oh my God. Please… Just like…” I didn’t even understand half of what I was saying, but she clearly understood the assignment:keep doing exactly what you’re doing, and you’ll make me come.

And she kept doing exactly what she was doing…

And I kept murmuring nonsense…

And…

She made me come.

Holy fuck, did she make me come. She held on to my hips and kept licking my clit just right to keep my climax rolling without making me too sensitive, and I was just… putty in her hands. Completely surrendered to the bliss Lila wrung out of me.

It was only as she came up and wrapped her arms around me that I realized how much I’d been crying out. As we sank into a breathless kiss that tasted like me, my throat was scratchy in that way that meant I’d been shouting.

I broke the kiss with a drunken laugh.

She tilted her head. “What’s so funny?”

I combed my fingers through her hair. “Just… realized I might’ve just set us back on that whole ‘let’s keep this quiet’ thing.”

The laugh that burst out of her made my toes curl. This woman was just stunning. Eyes sparkling, she said, “Well, the people in the surrounding rooms definitely knowsomeonejust came like crazy. Doesn’t mean they knowwho.”

“Or who made her come like that.” I lifted my head and kissed her again. “Can still be our little… screamy secret.”

Lila snorted before claiming another kiss.

The truth was, I did want to shout this from the rooftops. I wanted everyone to know I was with Lila Hamilton (though maybe not the part where she was giving me earth-shaking orgasms).

And I would. We’d come out. We’d appear in public as a couple instead of just friends or teammates. Our team would know, and so would our fans, our friends, and—for better or worse—our families.

Eventually.

For now, though, I was more than happy to keep all this bliss between us.

In the three weeks following the All-Star weekend, I really shouldn’t have been surprised that, despite our best efforts… people knew. Either Lila and I weren’t being very subtle, or the hockey community was just completely used to the idea of teammates dating.

There were plenty of straight women in the League, as well as bisexual women who were with men, but lesbians like us were definitely well-represented, too. And unlike the men’s league, there hadn’t been any need for slow and steady acceptance of queer players in their ranks. It had taken literally over a century before one of the men had come out, and that was after he’d retired. It was almost three years later before an active player came out, and another decade on before two players became a couple. Every step of the way, there’d been controversy and people screaming about wokeness and other bullshit, but eventually, the men’s league had reached a point where a handful of gay and bi men played and not many people cared.

In women’s hockey, it just… wasn’t an issue. Never had been.

Which was why it didn’t really surprise me when our teammates started gently teasing us about “date nights,” or when the team’s travel coordinator had come right out andasked if we wanted to room together on road trips. We’d gone from despising each other to being friendly to… well. This.

No one had any issue with it because why should they? And anyway, they were probably just happy that we weren’t butting heads anymore. If we were getting along well enough to spark rumors about dating—great.

“Whatever you’re doing,” Coach Reilly had told us a week or so after the All-Stars, “just make sure it’s not on the ice. As long as it doesn’t cause any disruptions on the team, I really don’t care.”

She probably gave that talk to any teammates who dated, but I imagined there was a little extra emphasis where we were concerned because of our past animosity. I could live with that.

Beyond our team, though, we weren’t out, per se. We weren’t going to any great lengths to hide it, but we weren’t broadcasting it or strolling off the bus holding hands. We hadn’t posted any couple photos on social media. We hadn’t changed our relationship status.

I could live with that. I wasn’t about to come out to a nosy reporter, but letting our teammates and coaches figure it out was hardly the end of the world. The rest would shake itself out over time.