Chapter Text
It wasn’t like me, but I needed this.
Which is how I found myself pressed up against the brick wall of the dive bar in downtown Boston, a tall, muscled hockey player currently placing heated kisses along my neck that were making it hard to remember my name.
“This is a one time thing,” I gasped without thinking. I wasn’t sure why I even said it. But I knew hockey players. They’d fuck anything in a skirt.
Case in point, the short denim number I was wearing for the first time that Allie had talked me into buying last summer.
“You already said that,” he chuckled against my throat, sending another round of goosebumps down my body.
I didn’t even know this guy’s first name, just that he played for the Bruins. I didn’t follow hockey and never cared for the sport. But geez, did they keep their men in shape.
His mouth traveled up to my mouth, our tongues entangling once again.
When I’d come to the bar earlier that night it was after a FaceTime with Allie. She was stupidly in love with some guy I hadn’t met yet. The perils of having a best friend who lived on the other side of the country.
She told me the news that her and her guy were getting serious, and that he had landed a job at an elite law firm in Boston and she was moving back with him. I was a little shocked, but Allie said she knew he was it. They’d only been together eight months, but I wasn’t going to question her choices.
Sometimes when you knew, you knew.
So, in a celebratory mood that my best friend would once again be in the same city as me, I’d taken myself out for a drink. Which had turned into four.
When the hockey player had sat down next to me, I’d only glanced in his direction once. Broad shoulders, a head of dark hair that curled at the ends, nice forearms.
Now why the hell had I noticed that?
It wasn’t until my fourth piña colada that I became a little giggly and got the attention of the stranger sitting next to me. I’d made a Dirty Dancing joke that the bartender didn’t get. The guy to my left chuckled and told me my references were “dated.”
Like, who had even asked him?
But here I was, an hour later, pressed up against the wall outside, one thick muscular thigh pressed between my legs, my skirt riding higher than was seemly for how public we were.
“We should take this inside,” he murmured against my lips.
“Back inside the bar?” I asked, confused.
He chuckled, that low, deep sound doing something to my insides. He pulled back and that’s when I got to look at those brown-gold eyes again. Some might call them hazel, but that was too trivial of a description for something that looked like that.
“I was thinking more…we should get a room,” he said, eyes dancing between my lips and my eyes.
Was I really going to do this? Go to a seedy hotel room with a stranger? And why hadn’t he suggested his place? Or mine? Did he have a live in girlfriend or something?
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I blurted out, the piña coladas obliterating my filter.
He chuckled again and I wanted to bottle that sound. “No I…I don’t do girlfriends.”
“Charming.”
He titled his head slightly, a small smirk on his face as he regarded me. “Is that no?”
I took a shallow breath and looked at his lips again.
Was it?
“Hey, if you’re not into this…” He started to back up off me.
I don’t know what compelled me to do it, but I grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled him back.
It obviously startled him, as the small smirk on his face instantly faded and he watched me with a reinvigorated heat that threatened to melt my insides.
“Okay,” I said.
We picked a hotel within walking distance and I waited in the lobby while he paid. On the elevator ride up, we stood almost two feet apart, the tension in the air thick enough to send the whole thing careening down.
I followed him down the hall and watched with bated breath as he used the key card to disarm the sensor on the door. He opened it and moved aside for me to step in first.
A gentleman.
A gentleman who did one night stands and didn’t do girlfriends.
People were so complex.
I stepped into the room, clutching my purse in one hand and taking in the one-room suite. He could have just sprung for a one-bed room, but he’d gotten the suite.
The door clicking shut behind him made me jump. I turned around and saw him standing in front of it, fiddling with the key card in his hand.
Was he nervous too?
“Do you want a drink?” he asked.
I shook my head, and before I could second guess myself, my purse slipped from my shoulder and I was closing the distance between us in sure strides.
I caught him off guard when I grabbed his face between my hands and leaned up to press my lips to his, but he recovered quickly, his arms going around my waist and pulling me closer.
He walked me backwards towards the bedroom, and we only stumbled a few times, laughing lightly before the heat took over again and we were on each other once more.
By the time we’d gotten to the doorway of the bedroom, his button down was hanging off his shoulders and my shirt was on the floor in the living room.
His eyes glazed over when he looked at my breasts, cupped by a black lace bra I was ecstatic I’d decided to wear tonight.
I knew I had big breasts. It was something I’d always been self conscious about when I was younger, but I had grown more comfortable with my body over the years. Judging by his expression, he liked.
He resumed kissing me again, our tongues fighting for dominance as he backed me up towards the kind-sized bed. I managed to push his shirt off of him where it dropped to the floor, forgotten.
Shoes came next, then his pants, then my skirt, until we were lying on top of the covers in nothing but our underwear.
His hand stayed at my waist while we kissed, which I found odd. Usually guys were pawing at my breasts by now, wanting to get a feel of them in their palms. But he had one hand cupping the back of my head, the other gripping my hips, my legs, but never my breasts.
I decided to move things along so I broke apart from him and undid the clasp on my bra, letting it fall to the bed beside us.
He looked in my eyes for a long time, both of us breathing heavily, before finally, finally, his gaze dropped to my chest.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
Finally, a reaction.
“Can I…?”
Wait, was he asking…permission?
I looked at him with what I’m sure was a puzzled expression, before composing myself and nodding.
He lifted one hand and grazed my nipple with his thumb, before cupping my breast in one hand and leaning down to suck on the other. I threw my head back, letting out a stuttered breath as his tongue laved at my sensitive flesh.
He moved to the neglected breast and offered it the same attention. I could feel his hard length pressing against my thigh and it set my body on fire.
I reached down, gripping him in his dark grey boxer briefs. He gasped a breath against my chest and moved up to my mouth once more, his kisses taking on a more ferocious nature as I stroked him outside his briefs.
His mouth moved to my neck as his hand tracked down my chest, my stomach, before his fingers were playing with the band of my panties.
“Touch me,” I whispered.
He didn’t need anymore prompting, his hand delving under the material and cupping my bare flesh in his hand. He started with soft strokes, his fingers playing with the opening of my lips which were embarrassingly drenched. But he didn’t mention it. Usually guys made a comment about how wet I was.
Case in point, the wet sound that filled the room when he slipped his middle finger inside me and stroked, his thumb rubbing firm circles against my clit. It felt so good.
But I knew I wouldn’t come. I never came with another person. Some guys took that personally, others didn’t care as long as they got off. But the sure strokes he was feeding me told me he thought he’d break the dam.
Not wanting him to waste his time, I found his lips again with mine, my hands pushing down his boxer briefs, which he kicked off, his hand never leaving my soaked flesh.
He pulled away and stared down at me. His eyes searching mine as he continued entering me with his finger, rubbing my clit. It was erotic.
“I’m…” I choked on my words because what he was doing felt amazing. But still, “I’m not going to come.”
The reaction I got was not the one I expected. His lips curled up into a half smile as he continued pleasuring me.
“Oh yeah?”
There was a cockiness in his tone that should have turned me off, but it just made me hotter.
I grabbed his face and pulled him in for another kiss, wanting to shut him up. He pulled away after a few seconds, his gaze dropping to his hand working me between my thighs.
He wasn’t going to give up, so I tried a different tactic.
“Condom,” I whispered.
“After you come,” he said, his eyes moving up to meet mine again.
I wanted to scream. I could feel it so close, but I couldn’t get there. That’s what always happened.
“Please,” I tried again.
His lips touched mine, but we didn’t kiss. We just breathed into each other as he continued rubbing me, adding a second finger.
Only one thing to do.
My breaths turned to moans, and I threw my head back, clenching my thighs around his hand and letting out a shaky breath.
“Oh,” I breathed. “Oh.”
I lifted my head and looked at him, forcing myself to breathe harder.
He tilted his head at me and his hand stopped moving between my legs, but he stayed inside me.
“Did you just…” He looked incredulous. “Did you just fake an orgasm?”
What the fuck?
How did he know? Guys never knew when I did that. I prided myself on the fact I could fake it. Which said a lot more about my sex life than I cared to dissect at the moment.
“What? No,” I said, chest heaving now for a different reason.
“You did. You just pretended to come.”
“I came,” I said, pulling his head back down to mine, pressing my lips to his to shut him up. It worked for ten seconds.
He broke away and looked down at me. I thought he was going to make a big deal about it, but he sighed and pulled his fingers out of me, his hand going to my hip where he rubbed small circles against my skin.
“Condom?” I pressed.
He let out that god-forsaken chuckle again and looked down before lifting his head to look at me once more. The heat in his eyes hadn’t disappeared but it was accompanied by something else. Concern? Intrigue? I couldn’t quite place my finger on it.
“You still wanna do this?” he finally asked.
“Why do you think I want you to get a condom?”
He stared at me for another minute and I didn’t look away even though I felt scrutinized under his intense gaze. Finally, he nodded and shuffled off the bed, completely relaxed in his semi-nude state as he found his discarded pants and pulled out a condom.
He walked back over to the bed and laid down on his back next to me. I climbed on top of him immediately, taking him off guard, and promptly resumed kissing him again. His mouth was addicting.
His hands gripped my hips as I straddled him, pressing down on his hard length, the only thing separating us was our underwear.
His hands hooked into the side of my panties and pulled. At the same time, I tugged on his boxer briefs. Then I was lying on top of his naked body with mine, the slickness of my heat rubbing against the heat of his length.
He let out a gasp as I rolled my hips before he pulled away and ripped the condom open with his teeth, rolling it onto his length between us. I watched his sure fingers as he smoothed it over himself before I bit my lip and repositioned him at my entrance.
When I finally, finally sank down on him, we both let out a breath it sounded like we’d been holding. He filled me so completely I thought I might pass out. His hands gripped my hips, hard, as I trembled above him.
When I started moving, he cursed and flipped us over so he was on top. I gasped as he re-entered me in one swift push.
“Fuck,” he gasped against my mouth as he pulled almost all the way out, then pushed right back in to the hilt.
It took my breath away. Quite literally.
His mouth moved to my throat, behind my ear, as his hips began pumping in earnest.
When he moved a hand between us and started stroking my clit I almost cried. I was so close again, but I knew I couldn’t get there. He was determined though, pushing in and rubbing me just the right way. Right when I thought I was on the brink, whoosh, it would go away. Like it always did.
“Don’t you dare fucking fake it again,” he practically hissed against my skin.
Oh but that made me even hotter. And even madder that I couldn’t get there.
As his thrusts became more frantic, i wrapped my arms around him, our lips going from tangled up, to roaming over whatever skin we could each find.
This was the hottest sex I’d ever had. Something about how…present he was. How engulfing. It made my head spin.
When he pulled back to look at me, his eyes blazed with passionate heat and that almost undid me right there.
But of course, it didn’t.
“Tell me you’re close,” he whispered, voice uneven as he continued thrusting into me.
I shook my head, my breathing coming out stuttered as he continued to pump.
“Fuck,” he gritted, sounding almost frustrated.
Was he frustrated because I couldn’t come?
Why did it matter?
“Come for me,” I whispered instead.
His eyes blazed again as he looked at me, sweat dripping down his collarbone onto my chest.
“Please,” I moaned.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned, head falling to the crook of my neck. “Fuck.”
He shook, his thrusts becoming sloppy. And I knew when he came because he made this little broken sound and his hips stuttered before slowing. When he finally stopped, he pulled back to look me in the eye again.
“You didn’t come,” he all but accused.
I almost laughed at his tone. “Yeah, but I never come.”
“What the fuck?”
I suddenly felt self conscious but managed a small shrug.
He studied me for a minute, puzzled, before pulling out and rolling over onto his back. He discarded the condom and laid back down, his hand on his chest, breathing heavily beside me.
It was silent for a long time and I thought he’d fallen asleep.
“What do you mean you never come?” he asked quietly, his voice almost dangerous.
I turned my head to look at him. He was staring up at the ceiling with the most intense look on his face.
“I-I can’t. Not from sex,” I said as matter of factly as my embarrassment would allow.
He was quiet again and suddenly all I wanted to do was grab my clothes and get out of there. So why wasn’t I?
He finally turned his head and looked at me. “Can I try something?”
I hesitated. “What?”
Instead of answering, he moved down the bed and I realized what he was about to do as he settled between my thighs.
“Oh, no, you don’t have to—“ I started.
“Shh,” he responded, eyes focused on my sensitive flesh.
When he went down on me, I almost thought about faking it again, but I didn’t want to. So after what felt like ten minutes, I tapped his shoulder and he came up for air.
“Close?” he asked.
“A little. It comes, but then…”
He never once looked frustrated with me. If anything, it felt like he was frustrated with himself. I’m not sure why this mattered so much to him, but he was determined to make me come.
We had sex again before falling onto the bed in a heap of tangled limbs, chests heaving.
“I’m gonna make you come,” he said, his voice hoarse.
I smiled slightly, despite knowing he wouldn’t. He went down on me again and it felt amazing. No guy had ever paid this much attention to me before. I didn't even care if I couldn’t come because his lips and tongue were magic.
He fell asleep after the third time we had sex and that was when I quietly got up, got dressed, and left without so much as a backward glance.
It hadn’t been like me, but I’d needed it. Even without the orgasm, something about being with that man did something to heal my insides. He’d been so patient, fond, and attentive. Like it mattered that I felt good and that felt good. I’d felt seen, safe.
On the walk down the block to hail a taxi, I thought about brown-gold eyes and crooked smiles, chuckles that did something to my insides.
I’d never see that handsome stranger again, but tonight was enough.
I’d needed it.
A week later, I exited the taxi cab outside The Wilburn on Main, the bar Allie wanted to meet at to introduce me to her new man. I took in the brick wall outside and was hit with flashes of that night a week ago.
I had tried not thinking about it for seven days, but I’d failed miserably. Everything reminded me of him and it was downright disrespectful.
I’d seen a grey t-shirt in a shop window and had immediately been reminded of his grey boxer-briefs.
I saw a dog with hazel eyes and thought back to those brown-gold orbs.
It was getting inconvenient.
I shook the thoughts of him from my head and walked to the entrance of the bar, opening the door and stepping inside.
The bar was in full swing, people standing because there was no room left to sit. I stood by the hostess stand and craned my neck to look into the restaurant. I spotted Allie sitting on one side of a booth, a handsome blonde man with his arm around her. She was laughing at something but I could barely see her.
I smiled at the hostess and made my way to the table. As I got closer, I realized Allie and her man weren’t alone. There was someone sitting in the booth across from them, making my best friend laugh harder than I’d seen in a while.
I was a few feet away when she finally noticed me and her laughter died, a huge smile replacing it.
“Hannah!”
She jumped up and bounced over to me, enveloping me in one of her trademark bear hugs.
“So good to see you!” she squealed.
“Hey, girl,” I smiled, hugging her back just as warmly.
“Okay, Hannah,” she said, pulling away and grabbing my arm, leading me over to the booth. “This is Dean.”
I smiled at the Adonis of a man, but something in my periphery caught my attention. I looked to my left and my heart fell into my ass.
“Oh, and this is Dean’s best friend. Garrett Graham,” she announced cheerfully, completely unaware that the air in the room had just shifted all at once. “Garrett, this is my best friend. Hannah.”
Garrett—Garrett—the man from seven days ago. The man I’d faked an orgasm with and he knew. The man I’d snuck out on in the early hours of the morning.
Garrett.
For a while it felt like nobody said anything. But I could hear Allie talking in the distance as Garrett and I continued to stare at one another, each more stunned than the other.
“Hannah?” Allie’s voice brought me back to the present.
I shook my head and turned to her. “What? Yeah.”
“Yeah, what?” she asked, sounding amused.
“Umm…”
Garrett’s voice filled in the blanks for my awkward stumbling as he stood. “It’s nice to meet you. Hannah.” He extended a hand toward me and I looked down at it like it was a foreign object.
Finally, I shook myself out of my daze. So this was how we were gonna play it.
I placed my hand in his, jumping slightly at the sheer electricity that flowed through me at the contact.
“You too.” Gulp. “Garrett.”
Holy fuck.