Shutout (Rules of the Game, #2)(54)
When I walk in the door after my evening training, Chase and Dallas are sitting in the living room playing Call of Duty. The volume is turned up ear-splittingly high, which I suppose is a bonus in this case. It’ll help muffle any sounds Seraphina makes while she gives me the best private show of my life.
There’s a huge explosion on-screen and Dallas curses into the microphone. “Fuck you, Holloway.”
Chase steals a glance at me, still shooting. “Hey, man.”
Guilt sparks in the back of my mind. It’s a little hard to look him in the face knowing I’m about to go jerk off to his sister.
I’d be lying if I said the whole secret thing wasn’t hot, though. That’s probably a little fucked up on my part, but it is what it is.
“Aren’t you guys supposed to be doing homework?” I ask him.
“Yeah, but what are you gonna do?” He leans forward on the couch, squinting to concentrate as he aims a rocket launcher. “You want in?”
“Thanks, but I’m good. Still need to shower.” Sometimes, when the Boyd U ice is booked, Mark and I train at another municipal arena. It’s a lot older than our school’s facilities, and not nearly as clean. Ice is still ice, but the dressing rooms are gross.
I take the stairs two at a time and strip down in the bathroom. Like a creep, I snag Sera’s bottle of shampoo off the shelf and sniff it while the water heats up. The tropical scent invades my nostrils, and my cock stirs impatiently. God help me, I’ll never be able to smell coconut without getting turned on again.
It’s one of the quickest showers I’ve ever taken, efficient and to the point. I wash my hair and scrub myself down in record time, then turn off the water. Stepping out of the shower, I towel off my hair before wrapping it around my waist. Through the steam, my gaze falls to my phone on the counter. There are three missed calls from my father. It’s unusual for him to call more than once. I’m tempted to ignore him but thinking better of it, opt to call him back.
“Hey, Dad. Everything okay?”
“I just heard from Gary. New York is taking you for offseason training. It’s a go.”
“Really?” I ask, momentarily distracted from my one-track thoughts about Sera. This is huge. It’s also a little challenging to process with inadequate blood flow to my brain. Faintly, I know this means I’ll be away for most of the summer. The repercussions beyond that are escaping me. I’m not sure I’m grasping the enormity of this news.
“Management needs you to work on rebounds and lateral movements if you’re going to make the jump next year…” Clearly thrilled, he carries on for two solid minutes without any chance for me to interrupt him. I pull the phone away from my ear and shoot Sera a quick text.
Hades: Sorry Tink. Gimme 2.
Tinker Bell: image.jpg
Fuck. Me.
It’s a selfie of Sera kneeling in front of a mirror wearing nothing but tiny white booty shorts. She’s covering her breasts with one arm with her back arched and her round ass sticking out, silky pink hair around her shoulders. I want nothing more than to march upstairs, throw her down on the bed, and fuck her until she can’t walk straight tomorrow.
“Listen, Dad,” I cut him off mid-sentence as I walk into my room. Part of me feels bad because he’s so excited, but a bigger part of me—the one below my waist—needs to wrap this up. “That all sounds great, but I have a big test tomorrow that I need to study for. Mind if I call you back tomorrow so we can talk about it some more?”
“Sure thing,” he says. “Proud of you, son.”
“Thanks. Talk soon.”
Towel still wrapped low around my hips, I ease onto the bed to FaceTime Seraphina. My heart thuds as I hit send, and I tell myself it’s impatience rather than nerves.
After two rings, her face pops up on screen.
“Hi.” She gives me a soft smile, resting against her headboard with a stack of pillows propped behind her. There’s music playing low in the background. I want to say it’s Taylor Swift, but I’m not certain.
“Hey.” My eyes flit over her face, taking in her gold-flecked eyes and perfect, full mouth. Even though we live together, she’s so stunning it leaves me a little awestruck every time. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.
At the bottom of the frame, I catch a sliver of white tank top that tells me she’s gotten dressed. Shit.
“Sorry, Tink. My dad called me three times in a row, and I had to take it. I thought it might be an emergency.”
“Was it?” Her brows pull together, expression sobering.
“It wasn’t.” I drop my voice. “Did you wait for me?”
She bites back a grin. “No.”
All the blood in my body rushes straight to my dick at the mental image of Seraphina getting herself off upstairs in her room. With everyone else home, the staircase represents an impossible divide. It’s divine agony knowing she’s so close yet so far away.
“You gonna get off again for me?”
“Hmm…” she brings a finger to her plush lips, pretending to think. “Maybe if you ask nicely.”
Let’s get one thing straight. I have never—not once—used the word “please” in the bedroom. But I’d sell my soul for a front row seat to a show with Sera and her sex toy. I’ll get down on my knees and beg if I have to.