Dirty Game

33

Blake

I stared into the pint of beer on the bar. Jones slapped me on the back.

“We fucking won, man. We actually won in DC.”

I nodded, chugging in the process. “We did.”

“You should have gone on that run with me. I think it did something. There’s something in the air here.”

I laughed. Jones was drunk. He sounded poetic.

“It was a hell of a game.” One of the lineman plopped down next to me.

“Thanks for covering my ass.” I tipped my stein toward him.

It looked like most of the team had poured in here after the game. The bar was across the street from the hotel. There were bound to be Sharks fans in the area. DC

was crawling with them. The fans were loyal and diehard. They weren’t a new franchise like the Thrashers. I bet some had watched the game from this very barstool, but they had most likely gone home to lick their wounds by now.

“Anytime.” He grinned a big goofy smile. “Feels like it was different team tonight.”

“Yeah it was.” A lot had registered with me tonight. The way we had come together in the second half. The victory meant more than just a W to these guys. It felt like a turning point.

I felt a soft hand glide over my shoulder and rest on my bicep.

“Hi.”

Fuck.

I looked toward her. She had full lips and a set of tits no man could ignore. She was wearing a Thrashers jersey she had altered to show off her best assets.

“Hey, there sweetheart.”

Jones and the lineman chuckled to each other. “I think I see Haynes over there. Be back.” Jones hit the other guy on the back to take a hint. They moved from my left, opening up a couple of bar stools.

She slid in next to me. Shit. Her skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs. I could smell her perfume as she leaned in closer.

“Is it ok if I sit here?” she purred.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I’d played this game a million times. It always ended the same way, with the girl under me, while I fucked the lights out for both of us.

She dropped her eyes, crossing her legs. I followed the path her leg made over top of the other one. My cock throbbed for a quick second. And I realized it had been way too long since I’d gotten laid. Since the night on the beach with Sierra. That was the last time I had held a woman in my hands. The last time I had felt the rush of sex. The thrill of skin against skin.

And why was that? What was I waiting for? Why had I been holding out like some virgin rookie afraid fucking would ruin my season? Was that my excuse? No sex this season?

I turned toward her. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Jessica.” She smiled.

“Blake.” I winked.

She blushed shamelessly. We both knew what was getting ready to happen. Women like her didn’t drop into the seat next to me for a romantic night on the town. I’d never be a wine and roses man. My reputation wasn’t decorated with romantic gestures and sweet overtures. Women knew what they were getting into. Jessica knew exactly what she wanted.

“Congratulations on your big win,” she commented. “It was a great game.”

“Thanks. We needed it.”