Van (Cold Fury Hockey 9)

Then I was done.

I just couldn't.

So I left the house and ended up working out at the gym.

A lot.

We had almost the entire week off after winning the first round of the play-offs against the Spartans in game five, so other than light practices, I pretty much spent my days in the gym or tooling around town. If Simone was working, I'd lounge at home. If she was home, I'd go out.

This worked pretty well until I thought she'd left for work tonight but didn't.

I'd been talking to Lucas, which I'd done more of in the last three days since he and Stephanie had broken up than probably the entire two months we'd lived together. He wasn't complaining, wasn't sharing, but he was just needing a connection to something solid, I think.

So we talked about hockey, of all things. We told each other about our respective careers and goals. Not surprisingly, we both took the offers from the Cold Fury because we wanted a Stanley Cup under our belt and they offered the best chance this year. I had another very important reason for coming to the East Coast, but I didn't share that.

The conversation has been easy and light, and I actually don't feel corralled into being something to someone that I'm not feeling. One might even say it's the first real, tentative friendship I've had, and that's probably only made possible by the fact that Lucas is so deep into his misery he really doesn't want or need anything more.

He left tonight to go hang out at Max and Jules's. We have game one of the second round tomorrow, so everyone on the team is trying to relax as much as they can.

For some, like Lucas, it means being with family.

For others, like me, it usually means sitting by myself in a dive bar or a strip joint, nursing a few drinks and enjoying the solitude that you can only get from such a place.

Just as he was leaving, I casually asked where Simone was. He'd given me a distracted, "Work, I think." Yes, it was distracted, but I didn't think it wasn't true. He's just been scatterbrained lately, and as far as I knew, Simone either worked or she was here annoying the fuck out of me.

The minute Lucas left, I went into the sanctity of my little bedroom and turned on the TV I'd gotten out of storage a few days ago. I had my laptop hooked up through the HDMI cable, and I'm a dude, so I put on some porn, turning the volume down low because I hate the fucking cheesy music and terrible acting.

I was two minutes in, stroking a raging hard-on, when I heard the front door open and froze with my hand gripping my dick. Rather than deflate at the intrusion, it got fucking harder, as I realized it was Simone walking in. I could tell by her light footsteps, and then I could hear her rummaging in Lucas's room where she kept her suitcases. Another moment passed, my dick was still in a stranglehold, and I heard the shower turn on.

Leaning back on my pillow, I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned. I also let my cock go and shut the TV off. I couldn't be in the house with her, so I quickly rolled off the bed and got dressed.

I was out of the house before the water even turned off.

I drove around without any idea of where the fuck I should go, but then pulled into a new bar called Lulu's that opened a few months ago. I'd heard it was a loose play on Hooters, except the girls were actually more scantily dressed. This sounded right up my alley, because perhaps what I needed to do was just fuck someone so I could have at least some time to myself where I wouldn't be thinking about Simone.

I'm on my second drink and I just finished a burger with some fries. My waitress--a cute blonde named Billie, the name written on her right breast with a marker--comes to clear my table. The outfits these girls wear are so fucking skimpy you can't even pin a name tag on them, so they write their name on the swell of their chest. I have to say, I'm never going to Hooters again. You cannot beat the miniscule bikini tops they wear, which are the tiniest swatches of triangular fabric in neon pink. Their bottoms are something between short shorts and underwear, riding low on their flat bellies and high up their ass cheeks. Fucking sexy as hell.

"Want another drink?" Billie asks with a flirty smile. She's pretty and not overt, but if I wanted to push something with her, I think she'd be into it.

"I'm good," I tell her with a smile. I don't give those often, but she's been unobtrusive, and that's what I need tonight.

"Well, okay," she says cheerily, but she leans in a little closer. "I'm going to get your check as I'm off duty soon. If you need anything at all, just let me know."

There's enough emphasis on the anything at all I totally get her drift. Now I just have to determine if I want anything at all from her or not.

"You got it," I say noncommittally.

Her smile falters a tiny bit but I ignore it, concentrate on finishing my beer. She brings the check back before I do, though, so I hand her enough cash to cover the meal and tell her to keep the change. I just can't seem to muster up enough interest in her to take advantage of what she's offering.

I dawdle over my beer, taking my time. I'm not ready to leave, yet I don't want to stay. The women all look the same to me; besides, they're all busy working. It's not like a strip joint where they're putting on a show for our enjoyment. I consider hitting my favorite place and yeah, sounds like a good idea.

I drain the last of my beer, grab my keys, and stand from my chair.

And that's when I see her.

Fucking Simone, and she's wearing the same tiny pink top, except her breasts look a million times more fantastic than the other women here. Full, round, and fuck-me-standing nipples poking hard through the material, which gives me dirty thoughts of her twisting them erect before she came out here. Her skin is tan, silky looking, lickable. Flat stomach, almost cut, and flared hips. Tight ass.

She's every man's wet dream.

Been mine on a few occasions.

I stand, frozen in place as she leans over a high-top table where three guys sit, ready to take their order. Placing her forearms on the table, her breasts push together, making her cleavage totally fuckable.

All three men leer at her.

My feet are moving before I can even understand what I'm doing. I cut through the tables, my eyes pinned not on Simone's ass and not on her breasts. Through the haze of red, they're pinned on her face and that killer fucking smile she's got leveled at those men as she flirts with them.

The minute my hand touches her elbow, she turns to look at me with surprise.

The minute my fingers curl around her arm, her eyes go half-mast with naked sensuality when she sees it's me.

Fuck me, but that appeases me somewhat.

"What in the fuck do

you think you're doing?" I grit out.

Simone straightens and leans into me. Her voice is husky and low when she says, "Fancy meeting you here."

Christ, I'm going to kill her.

I pull her away from the table, through the restaurant, and out the front door. She doesn't resist in any way, and I can't tell if that makes me happy or pisses me off. I take her through the parking lot, into the second row of vehicles, where I release her beside my Range Rover.

She just stares at me with a smirk on her face.

"Talk fast, Simone," I growl at her.

"Not sure what you want me to say," she throws back at me.

"Let's try this," I say as I motion to her scantily attired body. "Do your brothers know you're working here?"

I see a flash of guilt in her eyes and I have my answer. Still, she defends her job. "It's none of their business what I do. Besides...I need to make some money."

I ignore that comment and say, "They would not like this."

To my consternation, and to add to the lust I already have for her, she cocks a hip out and puts her hand on it. She then thrusts out her breasts and asks, "Why not? Do I look bad?"

"You look like you're ready to get fucked," I snarl at her, refusing to let my eyes drop to her tits. "I know for a fact they would not like that."

"But you do," she points out.

Truth.

And a lie.

I like it, but don't like other men liking it.

"Tell me what the problem is, Van," she purrs at me, taking a step into my personal space. Christ, she smells good. "Is it that I'm displaying something you want, or that I'm displaying something you don't feel like you can have?"

Both. It's totally both.

But I refuse to take the bait, preferring instead to just glare at her. It's what I do best where she's concerned.

She takes another step into me, her hand going to my belt, where she just dips her fingertips in to hold on to me. Tipping her head back, she parts her lips and whispers, "It's yours if you want it."

A wave of lust sweeps through me. An intensely erotic ache forms low in my groin.