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Wade

One night with Gabe Finch ruined me.

You’d think my dick would get over it after a year, but you’d be wrong. It wants nothing to do with anyone but her. With the exception of my hand.

What a shame. A waste, really. Someone so good at sex unable to perform.

For as long as I’d been having it, sex was enough. It worked fine to stave off the loneliness of an empty bed, a temporary distraction to fulfill the lack of true intimacy. I mean, how much closer could I be to someone other than physically inside them?

But no one stayed beyond the night, if that. They’d move on, so I’d move on.

Until last summer. Until Gabe Finch.

I’d never met someone so easily able to command a room without overtly demanding attention. Someone so unafraid to put me in my place. Being pursued was normal, but being challenged by someone so unbothered and unimpressed? Never happened before. And damn, if I couldn’t stop vying for her approval.

Glass squeaks under my fist as I clear a circle from the shower steam, frowning at the brown curls sprawling across a pillow and over my date’s face. The second pint of dark beer had Vanessa yawning in the taxi to the hotel, and she was more than happy to accept the bed for a quick nap instead of its intended purpose.

She’s pretty. Sweet, easy to talk to. And unlike Gabe, she wants me around, if only for the time being. Our expectations for what this is are set and limited. The mask I’ve spent so much of my life under stays on.

But the mere thought of a certain gorgeous sportscaster with eyes like daggers and a mouth that could only be described as Heaven— despite hurling insult after insult at me for the past twelve months —has the mask melting away. It probably means something that I enjoy being challenged by her, but I have no idea what that is.

God, I’m fucked.

I post a hand onto the tiled wall of the shower while revisiting the beginning of that perfect night, eyes screwed shut and my free hand fixed around my rock-hard dick.

Nothing could’ve held my attention except her. By far the hottest reporter covering the NHL, Gabe stood out from the rest of the wedding guests. She was over six feet in heels, and the navy beaded dress hugging her lean figure would’ve made Daisy Buchanan cry with joy.

A champagne flute rocked in her slender fingers before tightening around its stem. My cock stirred, self-inserting in her grip.

Our alternate captain, Landon Radek, and his new bride, Indi, smiled and swayed in the background, not at all in sync with the upbeat melody. As if nothing and no one existed but them. Sickening.

I straightened from a pillar at the perimeter of the white marquee. The one and only Fletcher Donovan, the reliable Ottawa Regents center but my unreliable wingman, glugged a beer.

Was it his fifth or sixth? I’d lost count.

“Slow down, buddy. You’re gonna piss your pants at this rate.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

I shoved him forward to Bea, the short, curvy bridesmaid he’d been fixated on for months. “Ask her to dance already.”

“Easy for you to say. Fucking look at her.”

Bea threw jet-black waves of hair over her shoulder before accepting another offer on the dance floor.

“Lost your chance.” I tsked.

The bashful shit reddened and fled stage left. I refocused on eavesdropping.

“I thought a wedding would make me emotional, but damn…”

A sip of super smooth Scotch rolled over my tongue and down my chest as I neared the not-so-hushed voice, hoping to catch the rest of the sentence.

“…I’m just horny,” Gabe said to no one, taking a sip and hugging those long arms around her torso.

“Me too,” I replied from behind. “Want me to fix it for us?”

She cursed under a breath, eyes fluttering shut as she dropped her head to one side.

“Whaddya say?”

“Crap,” Gabe lamented in the opposite direction before gazing at the tent above as if addressing a universal power. “Is this a joke? It’s like you want me to make a bad decision.”

“Bad? Never.” I took in some floral scent from her skin and held up two fingers. “Goalie’s guarantee.”

Her body stilled for a moment as if lost in thought. Those freckled cheeks tinged pink.

Oooh, she’s considering it. God knows I’ve fantasized about it for too long.

Slowly, she placed her drink on the table to her left and backpedaled.

Was that a yes?

I downed the rest of my glass and went after her, slinking away from the reception in the same way. Gabe bolted up the hill to the estate’s large farmhouse and skipped multiple porch steps so fast I had to catch my breath in the foyer.

Stretching my chest only did so much to recover from the short sprint. A hand yanked at my jacket before slamming my back against the inside of a closet door. My heart thudded under her palm as she loosened her grasp.

“Don’t. Say. Anything.”

I nodded, mouth parted.

“I’m gonna regret this,” she said through a sigh. “But I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

I nodded rapidly again, like a dope.

The tart sweetness from her champagne mixed with the Scotch’s leftover malted vanilla as Gabe’s lips covered mine. It was a hungry, desperate kiss, as desperate as the fingers fumbling to open my button-up.

She moaned before releasing with a frustrated noise. My belt clanged onto itself at the force of becoming undone. I reached for the back of her neck and rejoined our mouths, tongue angrily swiping across hers. Gabe broke us apart once more, her lips coasting across my jaw and below my ear. The teasing nibbles and sucks had me clenching her body to mine and replying with a groan.

The mask slipped.

“Fuck, Gabe. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since New Year’s.”

Or the way she squeezed my neck while yelling at me. And the fierce, heated kiss that followed? It branded itself deep into each wrinkled ridge of my brain.

“Ugh. What part of ‘Don’t say anything,’ do you not” —she interrupted herself by pressing me to the door by the throat— “Wait, what?”

Shit. Put the mask back on!

“I mean, what? Pfft,” I backtracked. “I’ve forgotten about it. I’ve made out with, like, dozens of women since then.”

Gabe scoffed from the corner of her upturned mouth. “Um, cool?” Her palm met the covered tip of my upright cock. “You have a condom, or what?”

“Yeah-yeah-yes.” I fished one from inside my suit jacket and tore it open. “Okay. It was a dozen. Maybe.”

You chump.

“Shut up and put it on.” She shimmied her dress up.

The boxer brief band was tugged down enough to roll it over my length. Gabe’s scowl shifted to surprise. I smirked back.

“Holy shit, you’re” —her eyes widened at my size— “You’re…”

Shocked at her verbal trip-up but impatient with the back and forth, I spun us, pinning her to the door with a hand on the dip of her waist. She wasn’t the only one who could be a fucking tease.

“I know. I’m big.” The glass beading on the fabric bit the skin of my palms as I bunched it higher over her bare torso, my free hand reaching between those long legs. A slick warmth brushed my fingertips through her panties. “And you’re not wet enough yet.”

“That’s ‘cause you don’t have any idea what ? —”

She swallowed her words when my mouth swept down the column of her throat, tasting more and more of the delicate skin. Between how soft she felt and getting hit with that damn flowery smell, I felt dizzy.

I swiped the strip of fabric covering her aside, pushing her up the door until her knees hooked over my hips. When I circled her clit, she squirmed and whimpered.

“What’s that? Not so mouthy now, huh?” One finger prodded into her little pussy, gliding in and out until her arousal coated me down to the knuckle. “There you go.” I rubbed and tapped the sensitive spot inside her until she clamped and pulsed around me. “We’re gonna make it fit.”

Gabe bit back a pleasured hum and tore at the hair on my nape in response, notching our faces together and forcing eye contact. “Get inside me. Now.”

The swollen head of my cock rested at her entrance, waiting for one last reply. Her cheeks burned with a rising flush.

“Do you like it rough, Gabe? Or do you want me to hold back and ride you in slow-fucking-motion?”

“Jesus Christ.” She threw her head back, annoyed. “The speeches are on soon! Let’s fucking go.” Her wiggle spread those legs wider in an attempt to get herself off.

Not on my watch. If anyone gets her off, it’ll be me.

“Rough, it is.”

She agrees silently with a nod.

“Say it.”

“Go rough.”

We gasped together as I drove in the first time and again when I started moving. In and out, in and out, her dripping cunt wrapping me so tight, I could hardly breathe.

I moaned her name into the crook of her neck, a needy plea for confirmation that she felt what I did.

The door rattled with the increased speed, unraveling the rest of my restraint as her quiet whines got louder and louder with each subsequent thrust.

“Oh, God,” she panted. “Wade.”

The mask might as well have disintegrated into thin air.

“You feel so fucking good,” I whispered into her mouth. “Kiss me.”

She repeated a moan in response but didn’t kiss me.

“Kiss me so we can both come,” I grated out with another slam, then slid a finger over her swollen clit. “Good girls listen. You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Gabe?”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” The question contrasted the needy pull that drew our lips together.

A hum vibrated between us, the harsh sweeps of our tongues tipping us over. We let go with a shared scream as I bottomed out, dick pulsing inside her. My hands roamed, caressing every inch of her within reach, absorbing every sensation of the moment, not wanting it to end.

Gabe tapped my shoulder to be released, and I obeyed, removing myself and the condom.

“Fucking incredible.” I sighed.

She inhaled sharply, a lopsided, unimpressed smile coloring her face. “I’ve had better.”

Outrageous.

“The fuck you have.”

Her dress hem returned to its place above her knees. “It was too fast. You could use some endurance training.”

“Whatever.” A haphazard tucking of my shirt back into the suit pants made a louder rustle than intended. “This isn’t the last time we do this, eh, Finch?”

“Oh, Pretty Boy.” Gabe patted my face with enough force that it could’ve been confused for three slaps. “This is absolutely, one hundred thousand percent never happening again.”

Fuck, I’m gonna come.

My toes curl over the wet marble, knees and thighs shaking. The steady speed of my hand syncs with the beat of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene,” and I mutter the namesake lyrics before coming in my fist, vision white and Gabe’s name on my stifled breath.

“Wow.” A yawn sounds out. “Jolene’s a lucky lady.”

I huff out a laugh at Vanessa’s comment while recovering from the high. A few splashes from the cascade rinse away the filth. “Not really. It’s that song. By Dolly Parton.”

“That’s what you beat off to?”

“Hey, good rhythm is good rhythm.”

I step out to dry off, then throw my boxers and slacks on before leaning on the counter. Vanessa continues to battle a tangled bobby pin as I guide her between my knees.

“Here.” I reach for the knot of hair. “Let me.”

Vanessa turns, her back to my chest, hands on her legs in wait. The pin relents, and I display its defeat in her sight line.

“Thanks, Wade.” She returns the pin to a twisted strand while glancing at me. “You’re boyfriend material, you know that? If you wanted to be.”

I trill my lips and stroll to the bed. “Nah. I’m a good fuck, though.”

“Are you? It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten.” She tosses a sarcastic smile my way.

Air hisses past my mouth. “Sorry about that.”

“Eh, it’s my fault, too.” Vanessa shrugs. “We’ll blame the chocolate stout.”

So she didn’t notice my cock was uncooperative.

“But don’t underestimate yourself.”

“Me? Never.” I lie back, tucking my hands behind my head, giving her a complete view of the goods, flexing my biceps, and curling up to show off my abs. “I’m the best fuck. Is that better?”

“That’s not what I meant, but…” She trails off, taking the bait and eyeing my torso. My tongue pokes victoriously through my teeth. Vanessa ahems and straightens her sweater. “Thank you for that. And thanks for letting me crash.” She salutes weakly from her brow. “Wade. Always a pleasure.”

“Likewise. And Vanessa?” I jump up, breaking into a jog to meet her by the door. “Remember, uh , not to…?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. ‘ Tell no one what you’re actually like. ’” She imitates the deep timbre of my voice and shakes her head. “‘ Gotta protect the rep. ’”

“Thanks.”

“See you next time you’re in L.A.?”

“Sure. I’ll text you.”

She winks. “Sounds good.”

I stare at the pale blue wall for a split second after the door claps shut.

Then I’m back to the mental disarray, flailing on the bed with a hand down my pants, replaying the rest of that night with a woman I’ll never get to touch again.

This feeling can’t last forever. I haven’t slept with anyone in a year, but it has to happen sometime, right?

Soon , I vow to myself. Soon, I’ll be inside someone else and forget all about Gabe Finch.