Easy (Chicago Blaze 6)

“Is that what you think we did before?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

I unbutton her shorts and start sliding them down. She presses her palms to the counter and lifts her hips so I can get her shorts and panties off.

“I’ve done everything I wanted to in hockey,” I say, pushing my own shorts and underwear down. “I’ve won two championships, played in every arena, and competed against some of the best in the game. I’m ready for the next adventure, Al. Us. A family.”

I spread her legs a little wider and thrust inside her and we both groan.

“Oh god…” she says softly, throwing her head back. “God, you’re good at this.”

“At this?” I pull back and bury myself inside her.

“Yeah, that, and…talking me into anything while you’re doing it.”

“Don’t you think we need this all the time? I know I fucking do.” I grab her hips and pull her against me, setting a steady, deep rhythm.

“But…” she pants, “but you’re close to that…record…”

Christ, it’s sexier than I was expecting to fuck her on the counter next to the stove she cooks dinner on. She braces a hand on the kitchen cabinet behind her so her head doesn’t knock against it. She’s wet, the sound of my cock pumping in and out of her making it hard to keep control.

“How do you know about that?” I ask, my voice strained.

She moans loudly and grabs my shoulder, digging her nails in. “I…googled…you…oh, god, yes. Harder.”

I take my hands from her ass and use them to rip the front of her button-up shirt open, exposing her breasts. My hands go back to her ass and I resume fucking her, watching her tits bounce up and down in her red satin bra.

“Fuck…baby…” I grind my teeth, trying to hold back.

“Yes, yes, like th—oh, god, yes,” she cries, tightening her legs around my waist as she comes.

With an endless groan and a final thrust inside her, I come too. I kiss her shoulder, taking a second to catch my breath.

“You googled me?” I ask as I pull out of her, amused.

“Yeah,” she says, sliding off the counter to retrieve her panties and shorts.

“Sorry about the shirt,” I say, a little bashful, but not regretting it in the slightest.

“I don’t care about the shirt.” She grins at me, her cheeks flushed.

“That record is a longshot,” I say, stepping back into my boxer briefs.

“What’s it for, most shots? I don’t remember the exact wording.”

“Most shots on goal in a playoff career.”

“Erik, that’s incredible, that you could set a record one day.”

I shrug. “We’re stats obsessed in hockey. And it’s not entirely in my control. I’m on a good pace, but if my team doesn’t make it to the playoffs enough times in the next several years, I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

Allie goes upstairs to get a new shirt, and as she’s coming back down the stairs, her phone starts playing the sound of a teenage girl saying, “Is butter a carb?”

“What the hell is that?” I ask.

“It’s from Mean Girls,” she explains, laughing loudly at my befuddled expression. “The girls and I watch it all the time.” She looks down at her phone screen and frowns. “That’s Vi, they’re ready for me to pick them up.”

“Allie Douglas, I’m in love with you,” I say, kissing her. “And we’re gonna figure this out. I promise.”

“That’s all well and good and I believe you, but answer me this. Do I look freshly fucked?” She smooths down her hair. “Be honest.”

“Absolutely. Makes me want to fuck you all over again.”

She laughs and says, “I just don’t want the girls to know.”

“If they figure it out, they’ll survive.”

“Would you want to know if your mom had sex?”

I cringe. “Oh, hell no. Don’t even suggest it.”

She laughs and picks her purse and keys up from the kitchen counter. I hold the back door open and she’s about to walk out when she says, “Oh, crap. I need to clean the ass germs off the counter real quick.”

“The ass germs? That’s a thing?” I quirk a brow at her.

She takes a bottle of kitchen cleaner from the cabinet beneath the sink and sprays the surface I just fucked her on, then wipes it dry with a paper towel. She puts the cleaner away and throws away the paper towel, then gives me a sheepish look as she walks out the door.

“Sorry. This is what you get when you fuck a mom, I guess.”

I grin. “You’re a MILF, I dig it.”

I slap her ass and she laughs. I get in one more kiss before she drives away, waving at me.

And within a couple minutes, I already miss her.* * *Later that evening, I’m sitting on Aunt Jo’s back deck, a beer in one hand and my phone in the other. Mom and Aunt Jo both went to bed after we all played a game of Scrabble. Mom smoked us, of course.