Kane (Face-Off 2)

This woman is so low maintenance. And I like that. I have trouble remembering the last time I was with a woman who didn’t expect me to wine and dine her as if I need to pay for pussy. Models and actresses are worse than puck bunnies. They expect the world served to them on a silver platter.

At least with bunnies, I can go into it knowing they only want to fuck me because I play hockey. Some of them have been more clingy than others, but they’re a lot easier to deal with if I’m looking for a booty call than some prissy model who eats celery sticks and water and still expects me to take her to a Michelin-starred restaurant just because I can afford it.

After I finish changing into my shorts and shirt, I help Kennedy to her feet, her tits pressing against my chest and making me hard all over again. I want to bend her sweet ass over the bed right now and fuck the smile from her face. But Roxie is too obsessed with her new friend to give me a second to touch Kennedy before she’s already rubbing her wet nose against her bare leg for attention.

“Let’s take this downstairs,” I say, releasing her from my grip and wishing I could spend five minutes alone with her without Roxie interrupting us.

As we descend the stairs, Roxie forces her way between us, almost knocking Kennedy over and taking the stairs so fast she’s already at the bottom landing and barking at us by the time my feet hit the middle of the long staircase.

I lead Kennedy into the kitchen and hit the buttons on the oven to preheat. Frozen food directions are about all I know how to follow when it comes to cooking. I have fancy pots and pans the interior designer I hired hung from the ceiling on metal racks. At the time, I had assumed it was for decoration, and since I don’t cook, I left them in the same exact place she had left them.

Like the rest of the house, the kitchen has high ceilings, marble floors, a long wall of windows with plenty of light, and large cabinets that reach up so high I have never even bothered to put anything on the top shelves. And it’s not like I had put anything inside. There might be a bag of stale chips or canned soup in there somewhere but nothing that will save us from the apocalypse. I have a poor man’s pantry inside a rich man’s house.

Most of the time, I reach into the drawer where I keep the menus and call the first place I can find that will deliver.

Hoping to catch a few minutes alone with Kennedy while Roxie eats, I open a can of dog food and empty the contents into her bowl on the opposite side of the room. She dives right in without acknowledging me. Roxie is taking to Kennedy in a way that I haven’t seen before with anyone other than Donovan. She loves him to death, but that’s also because he was with me when we picked her out from the litter.

Our last twenty games of the season were hectic. I didn’t have much time for a personal life outside of hockey, but the few women I brought home with me Roxie either growled at until we went upstairs or had their shoes bitten.

The Louboutin model was not thrilled about her limited edition runway shoes ripped to pieces by my jealous puppy. That was the reason I knew about Kennedy’s shoes the day we had coffee together. The girl gave me a lecture about her shoes until I called a car to take her home.

Kennedy helps me unwrap the pizza and organize it on the tray, offering to put the baking sheet into the oven, all while giving me a perfect view of her ass. After she spins around, my hands are all over her body. Slurping her water and chomping down on her food, I know we have about another minute or so before Roxie finishes eating. If we’re lucky, she’ll be full and tired and go lie down on her doggy bed in the living room.

She rests her palms flat against my chest and looks up at me with those beautiful blue eyes I could stare into for hours. I want to kiss her, but after being licked by Roxie, I don’t want to gross her out, so I reach around her and grab a paper towel from the roll on the counter, pressing her back into the island as I turn on the faucet and wet the paper.

Kennedy slides her hand up my chest and hooks her arm around my neck, standing on her toes to kiss me. But she’s not tall enough, so I wipe my face with the towel and throw it on the marble, making sure my face is dry before I bend down to scoop Kennedy in my arms and kiss her.

She moans against my lips and slips her tongue into my mouth, her fingers digging into my hair as she pulls me closer to deepen the kiss. Fumbling with my shorts, she stops teasing me and pulls them down just far enough to slip her hand between the slit in my boxers, taking my cock in her hands.

“It’s your turn,” she says, using both of her hands to jerk me off.

It feels so fucking good I doubt I will last long after being tortured. Kennedy makes eye contact with me the entire time, and after Roxie makes her way into the living room to take her after dinner nap, she drops to her knees in front of me. Continuing the same motions as she opens her mouth, she fits as much of me as she can manage, not stopping until I can feel the back of her throat.

“Jesus, woman,” I say, grabbing her head and planting my other hand on the counter to stabilize myself.

Kennedy peeks up at me, still stroking my length with one of her tiny hands as she moves the other to my balls to massage them. “Shit, Kennedy.”

Words that make any sense fail me. Everything that shoots out from my mouth sounds like I am gurgling mouthwash, choking on my words. My body trembles, causing me to hold on tighter to her head, tugging at her hair as I come. I mutter a series of random crap in the process.

She lets me come in her mouth, which is ten times hotter and makes this one of the best blow jobs I have ever had. Her performance deserves a fucking standing ovation. I want to give her a high-five, a slap on the ass, something that says good fucking work.

After she swallows and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, she stands with her eyes fixed on me. Her eyes have not left mine since the minute she got on her knees. There was something about the way she looked at me the first time we met that had helped me to see past her odd choice in clothing, and this look, the one she’s giving me now, is the reason. It’s innocent but playful, sexy but cute.

She giggles when I lift her up by her tight ass and set her down on the counter, her legs spread open and her pussy glistening with her juices.

Kennedy leans back on her palms and lifts her hips. “I think it’s about time you fucked me, Tyler.”

I smile and slip between her legs, running my hands up her thighs as I lean in to kiss her lips. “Are you planning to write about this on your blog?”

“I don’t know.” She tilts her head to the side, a tiny smile forming on her beautiful face. “I must say you have given me a lot of material to work with today.”

“Well, I already know you won’t be writing about how my stick ain’t all that.”

“No. Your stick is a lot bigger than the average stick. Maybe I’ll write about how you killed me with it.”

We laugh.

“I like you,” I blurt out because it’s the truth.