Page 12 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Twelve

Kailey

I’d picked up another romance.

And my friend from my nightstand drawer.

Because…

I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss in my office.

The kisses .

I’d spent the afternoon in a blur after Smitty had left, part of me wondering where in the fuck that woman had come from, and the rest of me a ball of exposed nerves—or need rather.

I’d gone from not wanting to date him, to thinking he was really fun and smart and sweet, to wanting him in my bed, to…

Wherever I was right then.

Mental relationship status:

It’s complicated.

All the worries were still there—that he’d look and find me lacking, that I’d panic and ruin things, that I wouldn’t be enough and that I’d eventually disappoint him.

But…he had some skeletons, too.

And he doubted himself.

And somehow that made my doubt slightly less intense? Or all-consuming? Or?—

Maybe I was just a ball of lust that needed several really good orgasms and I’d get back to myself.

“Right,” I whispered.

Slake that lust.

Read some naughty books and put all those dirty thoughts into fictional men, and pretty soon I’d be back firmly on the side of not wanting to fuck Conner Smith.

So that was why I was wrapped in my fluffy robe, skin pink from my bath, my vibrator—the good one with the special clit tapping and suction as well as the big ol’ dick part because I was a fucking whore and did not give a damn.

Well…either that or all my naughty books had brought inspiration and now I had a collection of toys that cost almost as much as a used car; and my own bed by myself was the one place I felt comfortable exploring.

I knew what I liked here .

I was comfortable with going that route here.

So, lots of different vibrators, each with its own purpose, and so, had I chosen this particular one because it reminded me of Smitty and the gray sweatpants show he’d given me earlier?

Yeah.

Was I spending extra time processing that this particular evening?

That would be a no.

Unless bringing myself to several orgasms with a dick I was pretending was Smitty’s was considered processing .

Hell, who knew?

Maybe it was in the fucked-up world of my brain and?—

“Not tonight, Kailey,” I whispered, rolling my shoulders and concentrating on my breathing. No spiraling when I was feeling loose and relaxed after my bath. No panicking when it was just me and my vibrator and—I picked up my Kindle—my favorite fictional sex god.

“Right.”

I turned on my TV.

And was that me turning it straight to a season of a certain baking show where the contestants had lovely, smart-sounding accents and they all supported each other while trying to win a crystal cake stand?

Maybe.

But it was also the perfect background sound to my…efforts.

Not too distracting. Something I’d watched a million times before (and not while I was getting off). No sudden loud explosions or songs.

Just sweet people baking sweet things and making the occasional irreverent pun.

Perfect masturbation material.

And perhaps when I finished, I’d finally learn how to make the perfect kouign amman.

Right.

Covers back. Lube out—not that I needed it considering I’d been in a perpetual state of wet since Smitty had kissed me in my office.

Vibrator on and…oh fuck yeah… in . Dialing in the settings until my hips were rocking, my head digging back into my pillow, my eyes mere slits as I read my favorite scene in my favorite smutty book that I’d already had queued on my Kindle.

“You’ll take it, and you’ll like it.”

That was the hero speaking, but I heard it in Smitty’s voice.

“You’ll take it all, little bird?”

My breath catching.

Time counting down on the TV.

My pleasure beginning to ramp up.

My clit was pulsing. My pussy clenching around the hard shaft of my vibrator, wishing it wasn’t just a vibrator, wishing it was…Smitty.

That he was there.

It would be good if he were there. Not like the other times.

He would make it good.

I knew that somewhere deep inside.

Deep.

Heh.

My chuckle had the vibrator moving and suddenly, it was hitting just the right spot.

I moaned, my spine arching, hips canting, working myself against the toy.

The E-reader was forgotten as my heels dug into my mattress, one hand keeping the vibrator in place, the other coming to my breasts, cupping roughly before rolling my nipple between thumb and forefinger.

“Oh, God,” I breathed.

Right there.

So close.

So fucking close.

So—

My phone began buzzing.

“No, no,” I said, my attention being drawn roughly away from my pussy, my clit, the vibrator. I fumbled, hands full of toy…full of toy…and tittie and?—

Releasing my breast, I tried to hit the button to silence the call, but missed, knocking my phone off the nightstand, dropping it onto my chest.

“Shit,” I whispered, trying to keep the toy in place, so fucking close that I just needed…ten…more…seconds.

But the phone was still buzzing.

And my vibrator…my vibrator, slowly wasn’t .

The perfect pressure quickly turned into not enough, into a desperate sprint to the finish line, all while my fucking cell phone continued to bounce and ring and vibrate on my chest.

“Shit. Fucking. Hell ,” I hissed, reaching for the phone, intending to chuck it across the room.

Except—

Fucking hell .

my finger slipped, dragging across the screen, and… answering the fucking call .

Then as I was processing that, I fumbled my grip and promptly dropped it to the mattress, sending it skittering over the lump of blankets and just out of reach.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I breathed, rolling to my side and scrambling toward it, the vibrator still inside me, its battery dying its slow death, and seriously, why the fuck hadn’t I charged it after the last time I’d used it and?—

My fingers found the edges of my cell.

Thank God.

I leaned up, started to hit end.

But then I heard it, “Kailey? Kailey? Little bird, are you okay?”

I was fantasizing about his dick being inside me, and…he was on the fucking phone. And my only inane thought was—how had he gotten my number?

“Little bird,” Smitty demanded, his voice piercing through the speaker. “Answer me or?—”

Another scramble.

This one brought the phone up to my ear. “Hello? Hello? ”

Was I out of breath? Yes. Was it partly because of the scramble, but mostly because of what was happening between my legs and the fact that Smitty’s rumbling voice was now in my ears instead of my mind.

“Are you okay?” he asked, real concern in his tone.

Okay? Yes.

Sounding like I’d just finished running a half-fucking-marathon when the only thing I ever ran was a razor occasionally (and I meant occasionally ) up my legs.

But I couldn’t exactly admit that I’d been masturbating. To him, no less.

“I’m fine.”

“You sound like you’re having trouble breathing. Did I catch you in the middle of a workout?”

“No. God no.”

Now I could hear the smile in his voice. “No workouts,” he said softly.

“I—” I rolled to my back and my breath caught when the vibrator slid back into the perfect position.

“Kailey, honey, is this a bad time?”

It was the worst fucking time, and it was the best one.

Because now my vibrator’s battery decided that it could make one more valiant effort at living…and that living was blaring to full, glorious life, the clit stimulator chugging to attention, pulsing against the bundle of nerves, the shaft inside me buzzing fiercely.

“I—” I bit back a moan.

“What’s that noise?”

My breath caught. “I—” Oh God. “Nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds…”

I bit my bottom lip, trying to find the strength to shut the toy off or pull it out or end the fucking call. But his voice was there, and I’d already been imagining it was him inside me, him touching me. My moan escaped.

Silence through the phone.

The baking show was in the judging portion of the first challenge.

My Kindle was bouncing against my shoulder.

The cell was pressed to my ear.

And my toy…had brought me right to the edge.

“Please, tell me that I’m not imagining you getting off while talking to me right now.” The voice had gone straight from husky to a rasp, and it sent a shiver through me.

“I—” My head arched back.

“Can you still hear me?”

My breath caught, but I managed a sound that sounded remotely affirmative.

“Fuck,” he gritted. “You are. ”

I tried to summon the mental fortitude to lie, but I couldn’t. All I could manage was to contain the moans that were rising in my chest, my throat.

“And you’re close.” His voice had gone liquid, boiling through me, its heat scorching me from the inside out. “Oh fuck, little bird, you’re close, aren’t you?”

No words. But I could only manage another of those affirmative sounds.

“Fuck, little bird.” He groaned. “And you’re thinking about me, thinking about the kiss in your office this afternoon, aren’t you?”

“I—”

I broke off again.

And he kept talking.

“I know you are,” he rasped, “because it’s all I’ve been thinking about.

Because I just got out of the shower after stroking myself until I came, your name on my tongue, pretending it was your fingers around my cock, that you were working me until I exploded, that you took me deep and swallowed me?—”

I exploded.

The most powerful orgasm I’d ever experienced.

Waves of pleasure blew through me with the force of a nuke, pulsing and twisting along my nerves until my body went limp, the cell slipping down to the mattress, my legs dropping open wide.

Slowly, oh so slowly, I returned to myself.

To Smitty’s rough voice talking to me.

“You took it, little bird, and you did good.”

My breath caught.

“And I can’t wait to see your face when you do that with me.”

“I should go,” I whispered.

“Don’t hide from me now, Kailey,” he murmured, “and don’t think for a fucking second that I’m not imagining your face right now, wishing that I was there.

Don’t think that for a second I wasn’t doing the same thing twenty minutes ago.

When I said your name was on my tongue, that I was imagining your hand gripping me as you sucked me deep?—”

My lungs hitched at the erotic image, another pulse of that all-encompassing pleasure flying through me.

“Don’t think for a second that my cock isn’t hard again, wishing that I could transport myself through the phone.”

“I—” A breath. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” he replied easily. “Just lay there and enjoy the afterglow.”

So, I did.

Until I summoned the energy to turn off my toy, to dislodge the Kindle digging into my shoulder.

“Do you want me to go?” Smitty asked then, his voice quiet and soft and languid.

“I…” I didn’t know what I wanted. “I…no,” I finally admitted.

A pause, and I could sense that the word had brought him pleasure.

And…I liked that.

Wanted to do more of it.

But then he said, his voice less sex god and more joking Smitty, “Are you really jerking it to Great British Bake-Off? ”

And I decided that maybe I wouldn’t mind bringing him a little pain as well.