Page 54 of The Air I Breathe
"See ya, Blake. Kick some ass."
He smiles widely. "Always, baby, especially when you're watching."
A few days later, we're in New York, getting ready to play the other team we didn't earlier in the year. I'm worried, because I've watched this team, and they're very physical. They also like to make things personal. CeCe and I are here, along with Pam and Brad. Jovi has stayed home with CeCe's parents, and I was able to fly everyone up privately. It's just as cold here now as it was on New Year's Eve.
Everyone's quiet as we make our way toward the stadium. "Why does it feel so tense?" I ask, finally breaking the silence.
"Because it is." Brad shrugs. "One missed play and you’re done for the season right now. It isn't like other sports where you have a series of games, and the best out of seven win. This is one chance, one shot, one opportunity. If you miss it? You're done for the year."
Realistically, I already knew that, but hearing him put it that way? I understand it more than I did before, and now I know why Blake's been so quiet this week.
As we get to the stadium, we're transferred to a golf cart, and then taken up to the suite.
"Hey, girl," I'm greeted by Blake's friends, who are becoming mine.
"Hey." I wave before reaching over and wrapping my arms around Andre's neck. "Thanks for letting me sit in the suite."
"Shit, whatever. Without you, we'd probably be in the suite we hate," Puck says as he hands me a mixed drink and CeCe a water.
I'm nervous as I take a seat in the front, clasping my hands together. I pull the knitted hat I have on a little farther down on my forehead, and rub at the spot where his jersey number has been stitched in. The atmosphere at this game is unlike any other I've been at so far. It's tense, and the crowd is looking back at us, but they don't have smiles on their faces, nor are they waving. That's what I've been greeted with at most of the other stadiums we've been at, so I know this is a much different situation. Blindly, I grab for my drink and busy myself with sipping on it, hoping it'll keep me from looking as uncomfortable as I feel right now.
An hour and a half later, I've chewed off all my lipstick, and I'm pretty sure two of my nails are gone. This game has been physical, as I was told it would be.
"What the fuck?" I yell as Russell is hit late and a flag is thrown on the play.
The Warriors are fired up, and they stay that way through the next drive, forcing New York to give them back the ball. On the first drive, Blake is pushed down on the ground, and when he comes back up, he pushes the player right back. Bret and another player get in between them, pulling them over to opposite sides of the field.
"I've never seen him this fired up." It's fucking hot. I wave a hand in front of my face, smiling over at CeCe.
"Don't look this gift horse in the mouth, girl." She giggles. "You might just get what you've been waiting on."
The rest of the game is just as physical, and the Warriors have a ten-point lead when the ball is picked off by a New York player, but Blake takes him down hard. When the player gets up, he leans over in Blake's face and does the heart hands before starting to celebrate in a way that presumably mirrors some of my dance moves.
"Holy fucking shit." Puck whistles. "I can't believe the audacity. They have one minute left on the clock, they're down by ten, and they're still talkin' shit."
I can't either, but as the camera zooms in on Blake's face, all I can see is that irritation, the redness of his cheeks, and maybe, just maybe what I've been asking for when I get home.
My stomach is in knots as I wait for him. We've texted off and on since the game has been over, and I indicated that if he had some aggression he needed to take out, I would be available. The only thing answer to that was a hmmm...
Needless to say I've been on pins and needles, waiting for him at his house. I got back early, but Blake and the team had to stay for press, and then had to travel together as a team. He wasn’t allowed to stay in New York, so I didn’t want to stay either. Which is why I’m here waiting on him. The headlights from his SUV shine bright as he parks, and when he comes in through the front door, there's a chill in the air. Not one that would make me scared—instead, I'm excited.
"Are you okay?" I ask, swallowing loudly.
"No." He starts taking off the suit he traveled in, loosening the tie, and throwing it on the ground. "I'm fuckin' pissed. I'm irritated, and I'd like to beat that motherfucker with my bare hands, but that shit's frowned upon."
"What are you going to do instead?" I twirl a lock of hair around my finger.
"Fuck you." There's no doubt about what he wants to do, and I can't wait.
"Where do you want me?"
His eyes flash with just a little bit of danger, and between my legs, I ache, thinking about what he what comes next. "Upstairs, on your knees."
He herds me upstairs, not giving me any time to argue with him. When we get to his bedroom, he takes me over to the bed and grips my hair in his hand before pressing me to my knees. Within minutes, he's out of his travel clothes, and I'm out of the shirt and bra I was wearing.
Opening wide, I wrap my lips around the cock he feeds to me as if it's popsicle on a hot day. He's a man possessed, thrusting as I accommodate as well as I can, saliva running down his length. My nipples tighten when he grips my hair tighter. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to get rid of the ache.
"Are you turned on?" he questions, looking down at me.