Page 24

CHAPTER 24

DALLAS

A nd my dick is hard. Again. In fact, I don’t know if it’s actually been completely flaccid at all today. Now, as I drive, I’m forced to keep my focus on the road whenever I feel my gaze drifting to Emily sitting right there wearing those boots and that short dress. Chrissake.

My throat is thick and it’s hard to swallow as I shift in my seat. The city traffic is steady, and as we follow the West Side highway, all I keep thinking about are her legs, and how I know exactly what it feels like to have them wrapped around my head. I’m such a fucking creep.

“Are you okay?”

I glance at Emily to find her looking at me, a hint of worry in her big honey eyes.

I clear my throat. “Uh, yeah. I’m good.”

“You haven’t said a word since we got in the car,” she says after a moment. “And you’re clenching your jaw. I thought you were angry at me.”

“Woah. What?” I balk. “Why the hell—no. No way, baby.” I reach over and grab her hand. And it’s only now that I realize just how much that fucker before me ruined her confidence. I mean, I know he ruined her; he broke her in the worst possible way. But back there, outside her apartment, when she asked if she should go change her dress, and now, thinking I’m pissed at her. I’m no therapist, but I’m sure this is all a result of the damage he did to her, and anger pricks the back of my neck.

“No, baby,” I say again, squeezing her hand gently as I meet her eyes. “Can I be totally honest with you?”

“Always,” she says softly.

I keep a hold of her hand, focusing on the traffic up ahead. “I’m just trying to concentrate on the road, because my dick is really fucking hard right now.”

I hear a sharp intake of breath, and I look at her again, flashing her a grin. “I’m trying to be a gentleman, but it’s… hard. Pardon the pun.”

A small smile curls her lips, and even in the dim light of the car, I can tell her skin is flushed, the fact that I’m so turned on is turning her on, and I am about five seconds away from pulling off to the side of the road and doing all sorts of depraved, nasty things to her right here in my car.

“Can I be honest with you?” Emily asks, her tone mysterious and laced with mischievousness that makes my balls ache.

“Please do.”

She hesitates, clamping that plump bottom lip between her teeth as her gaze flits about, like she’s checking for something. My brows knit together, interest sufficiently piqued, and then she does the last thing I’d been expecting. She takes my hand and gently pushes it up under the hem of her dress, urging it higher still, her legs shifting a little farther apart, and suddenly I’m met with… nothing. Nothing but her soft, smooth pussy. And my jaw fucking falls open at the realization that she’s not wearing any panties.

“Fuck,” I say under a breath, trying so hard to focus on the road while also wanting to watch her as she encourages my hand, my fingers.

I drag my middle finger up and down her slit, nudging a little deeper each time. Her clit is swollen, and she’s already slick and so fucking warm.

Emily holds onto my wrist, shifting her hips and guiding me where she wants me. When I draw a lazy circle around her clit, she whimpers, and I feel my cock start to leak.

“Naughty girl,” I hiss, plunging my two middle fingers into her tight cunt, feeling just how fucking wet she is already. Or, maybe like me, she’s been wet all day. Man, I fucking hope so.

I fuck her with my fingers as best as I can, using the heel of my palm to press against her clit. She’s moaning, and when I catch a look at her, I’m taken aback by just how beautiful she looks right now.

A loud horn rips me from the moment, and I realize almost seconds too late that I’ve veered into the next lane. I’m forced to tear my hand away from Emily’s perfect pussy, grabbing the steering wheel with both hands before I kill us both.

“Shit, sorry, baby,” I manage through my own panting breaths.

When she doesn’t say anything, I glance at her to find that she’s taken over, her hand up her dress, thighs spread as far apart as the seat will allow, teeth digging hard into that puffy bottom lip as she works herself over.

“Look at you, Goldie,” I utter, taking the fingers I’d just had inside her and sucking them into my mouth as I look between Emily and the road ahead.

She turns her head, resting it against the back of the seat, staring at me through heavily hooded eyes as she chases her orgasm. Her pretty face is veiled with need and desperation as she fucks her own hand, and all I can do is watch while trying not to veer off the highway and send us flying into the Hudson.

“You’re so close aren’t you, baby?” I coo.

She nods, stifling a moan.

“Don’t hold back,” I say with a knowing smirk. “I want you to be as loud as you can be. Show me what I’m fucking missing. ”

A long, drawn-out groan falls from her lips as she throws her head back.

“You gonna be a good girl and come for me, Goldie?”

She cries out, panting between feral sounds, her back arching, thighs trembling.

“That’s it, baby,” I hiss, gripping the steering wheel with everything I have because if I don’t, I’m not sure I can be trusted not to touch her, or at the very least my aching cock. “I want you to look at me when you come. Look at me, and say my fucking name, you got that?”

Her eyes flare, and I get the feeling she likes it when I’m a little bossy. Noted.

“Fuck,” she sobs on a whimper. “Ohmygod…”

“Come on, Goldie. Give it to me,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

“Dallas,” she cries out, her voice hoarse.

I look at her, meeting her eyes right as she tumbles over the edge, her thighs clamping around her own hand. “Ah! I’m c-coming, I’m coming, I’m coming… oh… fuuuuck… Dallas!”

Reaching over, I skate the tips of my fingers over her exposed upper thigh, smirking as she comes down from her high, breathless and sagging into the seat all lax and languid.

“Show me,” I demand after a few moments.

Emily looks at me, one brow quirked like she doesn’t know what I’m asking.

I jut my chin at her hand that’s still clamped between her legs and, with a shudder, she pulls it out, and I catch the sight of her fingers fucking dripping with her release.

Reaching for her, I grab her hand, watching the road as I guide her fingers to my mouth, licking and sucking each one clean and reveling in the sweet, tart taste of her that I’m already addicted to.

“Such a good fucking girl for me,” I murmur, kissing the backs of her fingers and glancing at her to find her watching me with a look of pure, unadulterated adoration .

Her hand then moves to my thigh, upwards to where my cock is hard as fucking steel, pressing painfully against the zipper on my jeans.

“Can I?” she asks sweetly, tracing the outline of my dick.

I suck in a trembling breath between my teeth, groaning in a combination of lust and frustration. “Baby, I would love nothing more, but honestly, if you so much as even look at my dick right now, I can’t be sure I won’t accidentally drive us right into oncoming traffic.”

She retracts her hand quickly with a sheepish smile, muttering, “Sorry.”

I flash her a cocky grin, meeting her eyes and, reaching over, I graze her cheek with my thumb. “Don’t you worry, Goldie, you’ll get your hands on it soon enough. That’s a fucking promise.”

Twenty minutes later, and my balls are officially blue as I walk into Cucina Vappiano, holding Emily’s hand and leading her through the small, dimly lit restaurant. This is probably my favorite place in New York. Red and white checked cloths cover the tables, with small jars full of fresh posies and little glowing lanterns decorating the center of each one. It’s Sunday, and it’s after the dinner rush, so thankfully the place is almost empty, save for an older couple dining at the table by the front window and a couple of delivery drivers waiting for orders.

Rosie, the owner, has my other hand, leading me through the maze of tables to the one in the far back corner, away from the potential risk of prying eyes. She doesn’t speak much English, but she doesn’t need to. I can tell by the conspiratorial look in her eyes as she glances from me to Emily and back again before nodding approvingly that she knows this is a date.

“You sit. I bring you the gnocchi and bruschetta,” Rosie says, her accent thick and adorable .

That’s another thing about Rosie; she doesn’t let me actually order, like ever. She just brings me what she thinks I’ll like. And, I don’t know how she does it, but she’s never failed once. So far, I’ve loved everything here.

I grin, watching as Emily takes it all in, her gaze flitting about the space. Reaching over, I take her hand—the one that had been playing with her pussy not so long ago—and I entwine my fingers with hers. She looks even more stunning right now. Post orgasm, eyes bright, skin illuminated by the lantern flickering in the center of our table.

“This is where I come whenever I feel homesick,” I say. “I mean, obviously my family isn’t Italian, but I don’t know—” I shrug. “This place just reminds me of home.”

She smiles, meeting my eyes. “I get that vibe. It’s cozy and warm. And that little old lady is like everyone’s favorite grandma.”

I chuckle. She’s so right. Rosie is all the best parts of everyone’s grandma rolled into one four-foot-six, seventy-something Italian package.

Rosie returns with a bottle of wine. There’s no label, but she presents it anyway. “Sangiovese.”

I glance at Emily because I have no idea what the hell Rosie just said, but Emily smiles, nods, and holds her glass up, into which Rosie pours heavily to the very rim. Turning to me, Rosie waves a hand, rolling her eyes indulgently with a muttered, “I get you beer.”

I chuckle again, looking at Emily. “She knows me too well.”

Emily takes a sip of her wine, humming in appreciation, and fuck, she’s even adorable drinking wine. I’m a goner. A fucking goner.

“So, how was your day after I left?” I ask, trying so hard not to show my smirk. “Get up to anything… interesting?”

Resting her chin on her hand, I notice her cheeks glow pink as she purses her smiling lips. “I had a shower…” She arches a brow .

“Tell me all about it,” I encourage with a nod.

She giggles softly, and it’s like music to my fucking ears.

“It was a… long, hot shower,” she says coyly.

I close my eyes, exhaling heavily.

“Then I had a nap,” she laughs. “I was very tired.”

“I’m sure you were.” I waggle my eyebrows.

“One basic beer.” We’re interrupted by Rosie, plonking a bottle of Peroni onto the table.

“Thank you, ma’am.” I smile smugly, lifting the beer to my lips and taking a big gulp, winking at Rosie. Her cheeks redden and she flashes me a sneaky wink in return before hobbling back toward the kitchen.

“How was your day? How was PT?” Emily asks, watching me intently, and I’m a little taken aback because she actually seems to want to know. I’ve never had that before.

“Um, it was good.” I tell her about Jace working me over. I tell her about conditioning training. “My mother called me while I was getting rubbed down,” I say with a laugh, taking a sip of my beer.

She smiles, and it’s genuine.

“My folks call me at least every other day and I swear, every single time is inconvenient. It’s like they know. But I can’t not answer, y’know?”

“You have a good relationship with them?”

“Yeah, the best,” I beam. “We’re real close.”

“And you said you have a sister?”

I nod. “Yeah, Millie. And a brother. Austin.”

Emily quirks a brow, smirk tugging at her lips. “You have a brother named Austin?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Dallas and Austin.”

“Yep.” I pop my p, taking another pull from my beer. “Lucky Millie wasn’t a boy. She’d have probably ended up Houston or… fuckin’ Fort Worth.”

Emily laughs out loud .

“Austin’s a few years older than me. He helps my dad run the ranch. He’ll probably take it over one of these days.”

“A cowboy named Austin?” I smirk. “Sounds like a character out of a romance novel.”

I chuckle at the thought of my sullen, moody-ass brother. I’m sure he’d love that.

“What about your sister,” Emily asks. “What does she do?”

“Millie’s in her last year of college at Michigan State. She’s so smart. It’s good because I get to see her whenever we play Detroit.”

Emily studies me, her smile soft, gaze assessing.

“What?” I lift my chin.

“You love your family,” she says as more of an observation.

“I do.” I nod. “After meeting your family today, even just for a few minutes, I feel like our families are quite similar. My dad is the quiet and reserved type, a little gruff. My mom is loud and proud. My little sister is… meddling, but she means well.”

Emily laughs again.

Rosie returns to our table carrying a wooden board topped with the bruschetta, the scent of garlic and olive oil infiltrating my senses, and it’s only then that I realize how hungry I am.

“Are you seeing your family for Christmas?” Emily asks, taking a piece of the bread and placing it onto her side plate. She glances at me, brow quirked. “Do you even get time off for the holidays? I don’t know how it works with athletes. I know some football teams play on Christmas day.”

I finish chewing a bite of the bread, the flavors exploding on my tongue. “Yeah, actually, we’re kind of lucky with hockey. There are no games or practices scheduled Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, or the day after Christmas. And depending on the schedule, you can even get a couple extra days off,” I explain. “We play our last game on the twenty-second, and then we’re back on the ice on the twenty-seventh, so we have a decent break. I’m flying home to Texas the morning after our last game, and then I’ll fly back here the day after Christmas. ”

“I’m sure your mom is excited.” Emily grins.

I throw my head back with a laugh. “She’s been asking me, double-checking every single time we speak. Like I’m about to tell her I’ve changed my mind or something. I can’t blame her though. It’s been two years since I’ve been home for Christmas. She’s so damn excited to have all her babies under one roof this year.”

“Aw, she sounds so sweet.”

“She’s probably the sweetest woman I know,” I say, but then I realize my mistake. “Well, actually… maybe she’s a close second now.” I wink.

Emily dips her chin, smiling as she looks down at her plate, and I see the telltale hint of pink flush her cheeks again.