Page 33 of Sin Bin (BU Hockey Season 2, #1)

Ollie

“ W ait, there’s no reception? No Deejay? No cake? Fallon and I get married, and you fuckers don’t throw us a party?” My questions are met with blank stares because Mickey, Deano, and Blue are sitting on the couch, inhaling a pizza and watching some weird alien show they’re obsessed with.

“You’re the party planner, dude,” Wagner says, coming in from the kitchen. “But there’s half a pepperoni pie left in there so if you and your wife want a wedding feast, you should grab it before we get to it.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I say to Wagner’s retreating back. The guy’s not much for conversation, so the fact that he muttered two sentences to me counts as a win. Fallon wheeled her suitcase back to her room, so I should probably make up plates for us.

As I’m snagging the last of the pizza and rooting around in the fridge for cold drinks, I hear Mickey and Deano pad into the room, and brace myself for a lecture.

It’s laughable, because neither of these guys is known for their superior decision-making skills, but if Deano wants to ask me what the hell I was thinking or if Mickey wants to threaten my life if I upset Fallon, well, I can take a talking-to from these to if it’s going to mean they leave Fallon and me the fuck alone after they say their piece.

“All right, boys, lay it on me,” I say, spreading my arms.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Deano asks. “Dude, did you take all the pepperoni?”

“This is my wedding supper. And it’s basically my wedding night, so hurry it up with whatever speech you’re about to dish out because my bride is waiting for me.

” In actuality, she’s probably sorting her laundry, but I’ve been half-hard since our conversation and that scorching kiss on the plane, and I’d like to pick up exactly where we left off.

“Do we have to give a speech?” Deano asks, looking at Mickey. “You never told me we had to give a speech.”

“We don’t,” Mickey answers, shaking his head. “Only best men give speeches, and we weren’t even invited to the wedding, so that means no one gets to hear our inside jokes or witty musings.”

I roll my eyes at their dramatics. “My sincerest apologies for not inviting you to my spur-of-the-moment wedding,” I volley back sarcastically.

Deano shrugs. “Dude, I’m kinda surprised you made it back in one piece. I heard Booker almost lost his shit.”

Mickey nods his head. “I can’t blame him.

I will personally stab out the eye of any fucker who flirts with my sister, so I know what he’s going through.

And yeah, Fallon’s awesome, so if you upset her, I’ll happily stick your balls in a vise.

The thing is, I’m one hundred percent sure she’ll kick your sorry ass to the curb if you piss her off too many times, so you probably don’t need threats from me. You still have them, though. ”

“Fair enough,” I say, smiling.

“We’re really not here to harass you, Olls,” Deano says. “We just wanted more pizza and we want to know what you want us to do with your suitcases.”

“What? I only took a duffle on the trip, and I’ll sort it out later,” I say, grabbing some napkins.

“No, not from this weekend, from your room,” Deano clarifies, except there’s nothing clear about what he’s saying.

“My room? What the hell are you talking about?”

Mickey nabs a slice right off my plate and takes a bite. “You and Fallon are married now, and her room’s bigger, so we all just figured you’d move in there. The freshman packed up all your stuff and converted your old room into a gaming paradise.”

“Our flight was only a couple hours behind yours. How the hell did they manage that?” I know my voice is getting higher and louder with every word, but I don’t care.

“Those guys know the meaning of teamwork,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder.

I wander down the hallway wondering what Fallon’s going to think of our new living arrangement. Telling me she wants to sleep with me is one thing. Sharing closet space with me is another.

When I step into her room though, my mind goes completely blank. I set our food down on the nearest flat surface because I’m suddenly incapable of forming any thought other than Holy shit, my wife is hot .

She’s standing by the window, her long, thick hair flowing down her bare back. When she turns to face me, I get a glimpse of the flimsy scrap of silk that’s out here doing the Lord’s work of keeping her full, perfect breasts contained.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say to her as my feet eat up the space between us. I can see that she still has her hearing aids in, but I make sure to maintain eye contact so she can read my lips. If we’re really doing this, there’s no reason to hold back.

“You’re hot as hell and you know it,” she says. “But you’d be a lot hotter if you stripped out of those clothes.”

I’ve wanted Fallon since the night I met her, and that’s only intensified in the years since.

When I woke up next to her this morning my body felt like it was on fire.

And when she confessed on the plane that she wants to make this marriage real in every way?

Well, I was on the verge of joining the Mile High Club all by myself for coming in my pants.

But now, standing in front of me in silky lingerie? She’s a fucking dream.

Before things go any further, though, there’s something I need to know.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask. “Because we don’t have to?—”

She cuts my words off when she reaches up and presses a kiss to my lips.

That’s all the confirmation I need, so I thread my fingers through her hair and deepen the kiss.

I lose myself in her softness and her warmth.

In this moment, in this room, nothing matters but the two of us.

I pull back slightly, just enough to tip her chin up so she knows exactly what I’m saying.

“We can stop at any time,” I tell her. “We only take this as far as you want it to go.”

Fallon’s blue eyes find mine. “As far as I want it to go,” she repeats, her words soft. “That’s pretty damn far, Ollie. I want you to fill me up with your cock. I want your lips on every inch of my body. I want to be tired for the next three damn days because you’ve worn me the fuck out.”

Fallon’s words light me up, but before I can respond with my own filthy promises, she sinks to her knees in front of me, divesting me of my joggers and boxers in one quick motion.

There’s got to be some wedding night etiquette about how the woman always goes first and how there’s absolutely no cock sucking until the bride has had multiple screaming orgasms. But apparently my woman never got that memo.

I’m unsteady on my feet as her mouth envelops me. She’s licking and sucking and getting so damn loud. Her enthusiasm just turns me on even more. But if she keeps this up, she’s going to take me right over the edge and I’m sure as hell not ready for this show to be over.

Putting a little light pressure on her shoulders, I stop her long enough for her swollen lips to pop off my dick.

“Get on the bed,” I tell her.

“I wasn’t done yet,” she protests.

“I never said you were. But it’s basically our wedding night, and you said you wanted me to…what was it? Something about filling you with my cock and wearing you out so much that you’ll sleep for three days. Isn’t that what you said you wanted?”

She nods before crawling onto the bed.

“Well,” I say, gripping my cock and giving it a long, slow squeeze, “What my wife wants, my wife gets.”

Fallon smiles at me as she peels off her nightie and rests her head on a mound of pillows.

I join her on the bed, facing her so I can track her thoughts and words. Her body is incredible, and my brain nearly short-circuits when directing my hands where to go first.

Ever the doting spouse, Fallon helps me out by placing my right hand on her mound and then between her legs. As she opens for me and lets my fingers explore, I nearly lose my mind at how fucking wet she is .

“I’ve been waiting for this,” she tells me as her knees fall open. “And I’m not a very patient person.”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” I tell her. “I should have pulled my car over to the side of the road and given this sweet pussy the attention it deserves. I should have gotten on my knees for you and eaten you out, so you didn’t have to wait so long to feel this good.”

“You can make it up to me,” she says, lifting her hips slightly. My mouth hovers above her scent and I try to memorize the damn smell of her. I never expected any of this, but I don’t want to miss a second of it.

The slight pressure Fallon puts on the back of my head has me diving between her legs to devour her. My woman knows what she needs, and she’s about to learn that I’ll always fucking give it to her.

I’m the kind of guy who always tries to live in the moment. I don’t worry about the past or stress over the future, and thank god for that because this moment right here, the one where Fallon’s thighs are wrapped my head like a vise? Well, it’s a damn good moment.

I make lazy patterns with my tongue and I can tell it’s driving her crazy because every time I get into a groove she seems to love, I change directions just to draw her pleasure out.

I’m torturing myself, too, though, because I can’t fucking wait to feel her come on my face.

I want to catch each shudder, feel each pulse, and ride each wave.

That’s what has me slipping two fingers inside her.

They work in tandem with my lips and tongue and I know we’re already making enough noise that the freshmen who stole my room are going to need to buy earplugs.

Not my problem.

Fallon’s grip on my hair tightens as her orgasm builds. She’s yanking on the strands almost to the point of pain, but that just makes the pleasure so much sweeter when she lets go and all that fucking honey drips from her center into my mouth.