Search

Chapter no 13 – Cal

Bagging the Blueliner

THE LAST ROAD TRIP before the short Christmas break was underway. The first stop was Houston, and Benji nearly fainted in shock when I declined his offer to go out.

With Jaxon firmly attached, Benji and I had become each other’s wingmen on the road. But right now, the thought of another woman turned my stomach.

It was bad enough that I spent the four-hour flight down staring at the back of Hannah’s head on the plane, willing her with my mind to turn around. I wasn’t asking for much. Just one look to gauge where her head was at.

Did she think about our night together? Did she regret the way we left things?

If she asked me, the answer to both of those questions would be a resounding yes.

Maybe it was better this way. It would gut me if Hannah told me she was unaffected by what we’d shared.

I was venturing into uncharted waters. Women usually came to me, and once I had them, they were quickly forgotten. I didn’t sit there and wish for an encore while the object of my affection acted like nothing had happened.

It wasn’t as if I could ask my friends for advice. No one on the team could know what Hannah and I had done.

There was only one person I knew I could call and get an honest opinion.

Hunkered down in my room for the night, I dialed my sister. Listening as the phone rang in my ear, I acknowledged that this could either be a great idea or a huge mistake.

The line picked up, and Zoe’s voice filtered through the speaker. “I think hell may have just frozen over. Is this the Cal Berg calling his big sister?”

Knowing she couldn’t see me, I rolled my eyes. “You know what? Maybe I’ll call my other sister. She’s more helpful.”

I could hear the smile in Zoe’s voice. “Very funny. Another sister is my worst nightmare. I thank God every day that I have two boys.” She paused for a moment. “Did you say you needed help?”

“Not in so many words,” I grumbled.

“Can I get a formal request in writing? My baby brother calling me for help needs to be documented.”

“I’m hanging up now, Zoe. Thanks for nothing.”

“Wait! I was kidding. Well, kinda. What in the world could you need my help with?”

Sighing, I swallowed my pride and answered, “Girl trouble.”

Zoe burst out laughing so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. Gasping, trying to catch her breath, she managed to respond, “You? Girl trouble? Wait. Is this the part where we pretend that women aren’t lined up around the corner for a chance to bob on your knob?”

“I feel sorry for your boys.”

“My boys will be just fine.” She let out another laugh. “Sorry, I find it extremely satisfying that at least one woman out there isn’t falling all over herself to wind up in your bed.”

“I’m glad you’re amused.” There was no humor in my tone. “All right. I’ve had my fun. Lay it on me.”

“So, there’s this girl,” I began.

“That much was implied when you said you were having girl trouble.” “You wanna interrupt, or do you want to listen?”

“Fine. Proceed.” Zoe’s sigh came through the line.

“We had this one amazing night. I can’t stop thinking about it. But we work together, and she’s acting like nothing happened.”

“Have you ever considered being an adult and talking to her about it?” “That’s part of the problem. We can’t talk to each other without wanting to

tear the other to shreds.” “She sounds feisty.”

I groaned. “That’s putting it mildly. She’s driven me insane since the day I met her.”

“I like her already.”

“Look, all I really want to know is, do you think she’s playing hard to get?” God, this was killing me. I sounded like a needy teenager nervous about his first

real crush.

“If she is, it’s clearly working. You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” “Every second of every day,” I breathed out.

“I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but there’s really nothing more for you to do. You either initiate a conversation with the girl or wait for her to come to you. And from the sounds of it, you could be waiting a while.”

“You’re right. That’s not what I wanted to hear.” “If you like her, you’ll suck it up and figure it out.”

“I don’t think I have the energy to deal with her and her smart mouth.” I was exhausted just thinking about a verbal sparring match with Hannah.

“Ooh. Now I really like her. You know . . . When I mouth off at Nash . . . Ooh boy. He knows exactly how to put me in my place. If you know what I mean.”

I groaned. “Ugh. I did not need that mental picture.”

“Are we going to pretend you didn’t catch us fooling around on the ranch at least half a dozen times?” Zoe taunted. “You probably use some of Nash’s moves.”

“Okay. Thanks so much for your useless attempt at help.”

“Anytime. But seriously, Cal. Think about what I said.” Her tone softened, all traces of teasing gone from her voice.

“Yeah, yeah. I will. Give the boys my love.” “Of course. Good luck.”

Hanging up, I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. Maybe Zoe was right and I needed to have an honest conversation with Hannah.

It would have to wait until we got back to Hartford in a few days. Talking now was too risky. Anyone could see us together or, worse, overhear our conversation.

My phone buzzed in my hand. Expecting a follow-up text from Zoe, I opened my eyes and glanced down at it.

Not Zoe.

Bad Decision: Down at the bar.

 

Yeah, I’d changed Hannah’s name in my phone. I was already playing with fire as it was. I didn’t need an accidental incoming text to be seen by the wrong person, raising suspicion. The new moniker was fitting. Sleeping with Hannah had been a terrible decision, but I couldn’t say I regretted it.

The text was accompanied by a picture. Hannah’s bare legs could be seen crossed on a barstool, and in the background, her fingertips toyed with the rim

of a glass on the bar top. The glass contained a pink liquid, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. There was no mistaking her drink of choice this evening—a hockey-branded pink lemonade vodka mixed with some kind of carbonated mixer.

Was Hannah suggesting I come down to the hotel bar?

The place would be crawling with fans, bunnies, and members of the Comets staff. It would be suicide to be seen together there.

Fuck it.

I could go down there and see what she was up to and who was around. It beat sitting up here alone.

Grabbing my room key and wallet, I took the elevator to the lobby. When the doors opened, I realized it was worse than I thought. The place was packed.

Coach played for Houston, and judging from the number of fans wearing Moreau jerseys milling around, they were hoping to see him during our stay.

For a fleeting moment, I considered going back to my room. That was until I saw Jaxon waving me over to a high-top table inside the bar. Fans surrounded him, but when I approached, he gently bid them a pleasant evening, and they dispersed, allowing me to sit with him.

Signaling a waitress for a drink, I nudged Jaxon. “What, no marathon call with Nat and the kids tonight?”

Jaxon playfully punched me in the arm. “We’re celebrating.” “Celebrating what?”

“Beau scored his first goal today!” Jaxon beamed with pride. “That’s amazing, man! Nothing in the world like that feeling.” “I hate that I missed it. He was so proud of himself.”

“You’ll catch the next one. I’m sure it’ll be the first of many,” I reassured him. I knew how hard it was for him to miss milestones in his kids’ lives.

A round of beers appeared before us. I hadn’t ordered and looked to Jaxon in question, but he shrugged, just as confused as I was.

The waitress tilted her head toward the bar. “Compliments of the young lady in the black dress.”

My eyes drifted in the direction indicated and locked on the woman in question. Smirking, Hannah lifted her drink before taking a sip and licking an errant drop from her bottom lip.

I was halfway to stifling a groan when Jaxon’s stern voice cut through my lust-filled haze. “Please tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

“Hmm?” I asked distractedly, taking a long pull from my bottle of beer. “Cal, I’m serious.”

Tearing my gaze away from Hannah, I looked at my best friend. “What?” “Don’t play dumb with me. I’ve been there. I know that look.” His eyes bore

into mine.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” Breaking eye contact now would only signify my guilt, so I didn’t look away from his intense glare.

“You’re going to get yourself traded. Is that what you want?”

“Calm down, Jaxon. No one is getting traded. Nothing is going on.” I was mildly impressed with how nonchalant I sounded.

Eyeing me carefully, he turned back to look at Hannah. “She seems to have quite the fan club.”

If he was trying to provoke me into giving myself away, it worked.

My head snapped around so fast I heard my neck crack. The worst part was that Jaxon wasn’t lying. Three men at the bar surrounded Hannah, each one vying for more of her attention.

Where had those fuckers come from?

I saw red when one dropped his hand to her bare thigh. I wanted to cut it off for daring to touch her.

“That’s what I thought.” Sighing, he asked, “Have you acted on it yet?”

Rubbing my jaw, I kept my eyes on Hannah, responding to Jaxon, “I’m going to plead the fifth.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I held up a finger to Jaxon, pausing our conversation to check the message.

Bad Decision: Hmm. Maybe I should see how it feels to fuck someon wearing my name on their jersey.

 

Growling, I looked to where Hannah sat cozied up with a fan wearing her father’s old Houston Heroes jersey. Over my dead body was she sleeping with that guy.

You and I both know it’s what’s under the jersey that count

 

Bad Decision: Well, there’s only one way to find out.

 

I stood suddenly, fists clenching at my sides.

Jaxon remarked, “She always did know how to get under your skin. Guess it was only a matter of time before you got under her clothes.”

Growling, I snapped at my best friend. “Don’t you dare think about her naked.”

Jaxon rolled his eyes. “Settle down. Instead of looking at the happily married man, you might want to focus on the fool who got close enough to put his hands on her. Don’t do anything stupid, like getting into a bar fight over her.”

His words brought me back to reality, and I turned my attention to the bar once more. Hannah let the man get close enough to whisper in her ear before throwing her head back and laughing so loud I could hear it above the chatter in the bar. Turning to look in my direction, she ran a hand up his chest.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Hannah was a smokeshow with a famous father and was using the combination to push my buttons.

Not wanting to give her the satisfaction, I left the bar without another word to Jaxon. Marching straight to the front desk, I managed to tamp down my anger enough to try and charm the woman working behind the computer.

It took her a moment to notice me, but when she did, a gasp left her mouth as her neck craned to look up at me. Leaning one elbow on the counter, I smiled at her.

“Hi there . . .” I checked her name tag. “Emily. I’m with the hockey team staying here, and our travel coordinator found my phone and told me to retrieve it from her room. For some reason, that part of her message on my hotel phone was difficult to understand, and I was really hoping you could let me know which room Hannah Moreau is staying in.”

To her credit, the woman hesitated for a moment. She was trying to decide if she should divulge the information.

Playing to her concerns, I offered, “You know what? I don’t want you to get in trouble. I can survive until breakfast without my phone. It’s just . . . My wife is pregnant back home, and I worry, you know? In case there’s an emergency.”

Was I proud of trying to manipulate this desk clerk? No, but Hannah drove me to the point of insanity. She wasn’t going to get away with putting on a show to make me jealous.

I turned to leave and made it half a step before she called out, “Wait!”

Got ‘er.

The short brunette peered at me from beneath her glasses, biting her lip. “I’m really not supposed to do this . . .”

“Like I said, I can make it until morning,” I reassured her. “What was the name again?”

“Moreau.”

Typing furiously on her keyboard, she paused. “I have two rooms under that name.”

Nodding, I confirmed, “Ah, yes. Ace Moreau is our coach. Hannah is his daughter. I need Hannah’s room, please.”

“She’s in room 403.”

Flashing her with a dazzling smile, I gushed, “You are a lifesaver. Thank you, Emily.”

Oh, Hannah, you’re about to learn what happens when you poke the bear.

 

 

It just so happened that the ice machine was located across the hall from Hannah’s room on the fourth floor. Hiding out there, I waited for her return.

I wanted to believe she wasn’t so foolish as to bring Jersey Boy back to her room, but you never knew with Hannah.

Not having to wait too long—she must’ve lost interest without an audience to provoke—Hannah arrived at the door to her hotel room. Patiently, I held my position across the hall until she had the door unlocked and open before I made my move.

With two strides, I caught the door, seconds before it was about to close. My anger hadn’t subsided yet, so I forcefully slammed it open hard enough to bang against the opposite wall before letting it shut behind me.

Hannah’s scream of surprise was so fucking satisfying.

Not allowing her a chance to spin around and see who’d barged into her room, I pushed her face-first against the wall. Pressing my body into hers from behind, I knew the exact moment she felt my erection against her back.

Stiffening, she whimpered, “Please. I have money. If I can just get to my wallet.”

Dipping my head, I let her sweat it out a minute longer before whispering darkly, “I don’t want your fucking money.”

Sagging in relief that I wasn’t some random stranger there to violate her, Hannah breathed out, “Cal.”

Keeping her firmly pressed against the wall, I kicked her feet apart. Reaching one hand down, I skimmed under her short skirt until I reached the edge of her panties. Slipping beneath the barrier between her thighs, I found her soaked.

“Are you wet for me right now? Or for him from earlier?“ Just the thought of her being turned on by that tool in the bar threatened my self-control.

“You. I swear,” Hannah said, her voice breaking.

Tsking, I challenged, “Unfortunately for you, there’s no way to prove it.” “He means nothing. I only wanted attention,” she confessed.

I shoved two fingers into her roughly. Hannah cried out, rising on her tiptoes, trying to escape the forceful intrusion.

“That’s right. You get off on the idea of making me jealous. You’ve soaked through your panties at the thought.” Unzipping my jeans with my free hand, I whispered in her ear, “I hope it was enough.”

Not giving her a chance to ponder what I meant by that, I removed my fingers, bent my knees, and slammed into her to the hilt in one thrust. Hannah’s pained groan filled the air of the tiny hotel room.

Gone was the man who patiently gave her time to adjust to his size the last time we were together. She’d unleashed the beast, and that’s who she would be fucking tonight. When she was limping tomorrow, Hannah would be forced to think twice before acting like a brat to get a reaction from me.

Holding her hips steady, I pounded into her relentlessly, grunting with the effort while ignoring her squeaky moans with each thrust.

“You wanna act like a little slut?” I forced out through gritted teeth. “Fine. I’ll treat you like one. Sluts don’t get the comfort of a bed, so I’m going to nail you to the wall. And you know what? I bet you like it. Don’t you, slut?”

Hannah whimpered, and I leaned forward to kiss her cheek, tasting the salt from the tears falling freely.

“Yes,” she sobbed.

Her pussy gripped me tighter, confirming she was telling the truth. Being rough and degrading was turning her on.

Hannah’s body thumped against the wall each time I slammed into her. Driving my cock into her molten heat, I felt the primal urge to hammer the point home. Snarling in her ear, I punctuated each word with a piston of my hips, “I. Don’t. Fucking. Share.”

Stuck between the wall and my rock-hard body, Hannah tried to arch her back as my words tipped her over the edge of her orgasm. Her shrill moans were music to my ears.

I did this to her, not that jackwagon downstairs. She was mine, even if she didn’t know it yet.

Her pussy pulsed around my length, threatening to squeeze the life out of it. She felt like heaven, and I couldn’t hold back a moment longer. Balls tightening, I roared as my climax hit me with such force that my knees threatened to buckle. My hearing went out, and I swear I saw stars behind my tightly clenched eyes.

So slowly, I came back to my senses. Our panting mixed in the air as we came down from our collective high. Hers became shaky and strained, and that was when I realized I’d leaned into her, crushing her lungs.

Stumbling backward, I shuddered when my dick slid from her warm body.

Hannah slumped against the wall, crumpling to the floor but making no attempt to move. She was so still that I feared I’d cut off her oxygen for too long.

That would be fun to explain to Coach.

Sorry, Coach. Not only was a fucking your daughter into oblivion, but I killed her in the act.

Hannah’s hand moved as she weakly tried to push herself off the floor. Tucking myself back into my pants, I scooped her up. The bed looked inviting, but our post-coital conversation from my house rang out inside my brain, so I carried her into the bathroom instead.

Placing her on the edge of the sink, I slipped her panties down her legs and hiked up the skirt of her dress. Lifting under her armpits, I placed her on the toilet.

When she looked up at me in dazed confusion, I shrugged. “It seemed important to you last time.”

Her eyes widened slightly before narrowing. “You wanna watch me pee, too?”

She was trying to piss me off. Again.

We’d only been together on two separate occasions, but she pushed me away quickly both times. Maybe that was how she rationalized fucking someone she hated. Perhaps what we shared was so explosive, so life-altering, that it scared her. Either way, I didn’t like it.

Crossing my arms, I leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom. “I’m not scared of your bodily fluids. My cock is currently coated in your juices, Hannah.”

Almost as if she couldn’t stop herself, she retorted, “It’s always the big guys who are into kinky shit. Sorry to break it to you, but if you’re looking for a golden shower, you’d best look elsewhere.”

Determined not to let her goad me into a fight, I kept my cool. “I’m waiting . .

.”

“For what?”

“You made a really big deal about needing to pee after sex. So do it already.” Hannah’s cheeks turned pink. “I—uh—“

“Is there a problem?” I raised an eyebrow.

Breaking my gaze, she twisted her hands in her lap. “I can’t go with an audience.”

Must be nice being a girl, where you didn’t have guys bracketing you while you peed in public places.

Striding forward, I bent down to grip her chin, forcing her to meet my eye.

Hannah’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, unsure of my next move.

“That little stunt you pulled downstairs? It will never happen again. Do you understand?“ She nodded silently, so I continued, “If you want to fuck, tell me straight up. No more games.”

Licking her lips, Hannah hesitated before responding, “What if it’s not as hot when you’re not angry?”

I always knew she’d be a fucking fireball. “If me being angry helps get you off, get creative. No more innocent bystanders being thrown in the line of fire unless you want to cross conjugal visits off your bucket list.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Releasing her face, I backed out of the bedroom with a smirk. “Good luck walking tomorrow.”

“Asshole,” Hannah muttered as I let myself out of her room. She was right.

I was an asshole.

But I was her asshole.

And I was more than okay with that.

You'll Also Like