Forever Pucked (7 page)

“What do you mean,
that’s it
? It’s a big fucking deal.”

“It is? How do you know?”

“Charlene told me. Junior accountants don’t present on multimillion-dollar accounts.”

“She already manages Miller’s accounts.”

“Yeah, but this is different. Darcy isn’t family, and Bunny specifically requested her. Charlene said this is atypical.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize that. Well, I guess that explains her reaction this morning. I wish she would’ve said something.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t.”

“We were kind of busy last night, with other things.”

“Apparently.”

I like Darcy well enough. He’s a good guy, and Bunny’s always pleasant. She seems like the one in charge in that relationship. I tap the steering wheel, considering my options and how things could have gone differently had I known this information.

“I should do something nice for her tonight. Plan a dinner or something.”

“Good idea. Then maybe you’ll get some action and you won’t be so bitchy on the ice tomorrow night. We could really use a home win.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it.”

While we managed to win the first two away games—just barely—on this last trip, we lost the second two. It’s been like that this season: a lot of up and down, and not a lot of consistency.

My scoring average is also down, and Randy Ballistic, who’s new to the team, has been responsible for more goals than I have lately. It’s good for him, but not so good for me.

I’m silent for the rest of the trip to the gym. Darren doesn’t push for conversation, which is good because I’m mulling. As much as I’m disappointed that I didn’t hear this news from Violet, I’m also a little relieved it’s Darren who told me. It gives me time to process.

As exciting as this is for Violet, it also means she’s going to be busy planning for the presentation this week. Which means we’ll have even less time together. I’m happy for her, because she works hard at her job, and she’s amazing at it, but this isn’t just about this week. The better she gets, the higher she’ll climb, and the more time it will take away from us.

As a kid, my mom was always there: taking me to skating or hockey, making breakfast, working on homework with Sunny. I’ve always kind of imagined it’d be the same for my kids. I want that for my family, and I have the ability to provide it. Maybe Violet isn’t ready to look at it that way.

As soon as we get to the gym, I jam in my earbuds so I don’t have to talk to anyone and hit the treadmill. Darren leaves me alone. He knows better than anyone that sometimes I need time to think.

Lance Romero, one of my teammates and a good friend of Miller’s, steps onto the treadmill beside me and nods. I’ve gotten to know him a bit better in the last few months. He’s a notorious partier, and a while back he had a fling with the team trainer, Tash, which resulted in us getting a new trainer. It sucked for everyone, but since then he seems to have calmed down a bit.

I pull out an earbud. “How’s it going, Romero?”

“Yeah, all right.”

He looks tired, like maybe he was up late last night, probably with a bunny.

“You gonna be on for tomorrow’s game?” I ask.

“Damn right. We’re not letting Toronto near the net.” A hint of Scot creeps in, telling me he’s as fired up as I am about the losses we’ve been taking lately.

We spend the better part of three hours working out, though it’s not all heavy training. An hour of it is stretching for me, working out the kinks in my right shoulder. I need to schedule a massage for later in the week so I can stay on top of things. Not only is this my shooting arm, it’s my fingering-Violet hand as well. I can’t have anything interfering with my career, or my ability to get her off.

I decide to order takeout from her favorite restaurant, as well as a bottle of champagne, her favorite flowers, and some chocolates. That should cover all the bases and win back some of my lost points from this morning. I also recognize that this opportunity is a big deal for her, and I do want to celebrate her accomplishments. I get that right now this is what she wants, so I’ll support her. Her work ethic is honorable, if not always easy for me to handle.

After training I spend a few hours at Darren’s watching Toronto games and planning our strategy for tomorrow. I get home around four-thirty, which gives me plenty of time to get things set up for the romantic dinner. First I remove the cardboard effigies of myself from the front hall. The giant stuffed beaver finds a new home in the sitting room, which is where I discover a picnic-like set up in front of the fireplace.

My workout mats, covered with fluffy blankets and pillows, are laid out close to the fireplace—it’s gas so there’s no worry about burning down the house. Pink paper litters the surrounding area. I crouch and pick one up; it’s dick-shaped, with balls and everything. Some have little red capes glued to them in honor of Super MC.

It looks like half the work has already been done for me. Violet had some elaborate plans last night, it seems. I didn’t make it past the kitchen yesterday, too focused on getting the cardboard cutouts set up and readying the bedroom for a serious sex-a-thon, with only half an hour to accomplish it all.

Beside the pile of blankets is a box of Fruit Roll-Ups. I’m not sure what those are for, so I leave them where they are and make a trip to the wine cellar. Champagne never lasts long with Violet, so I want to have her favorite wine handy as well.

Once everything is organized, I shower and shave, throw clean sheets on the bed, and wait.

Dinner arrives promptly at six. I put everything in the oven on warm, apart from the salad, which goes in the fridge. It’s already full in there. Violet has some sort of fruit platter and a bunch of dips, including chocolate and non-dairy whipped topping. I move things around so everything fits.

By six-fifteen I’m antsy. Usually Violet’s home by now, so I send her a message to check her status.

I get one back five minutes later:

Leaving work in 10!

It’s accompanied by a kissy face emoticon. That’s disappointing. It takes her a good twenty minutes to get home, and that’s in good weather. It started snowing again around three. It’s just flurries, but it’ll slow her down. That means she’ll be at least another forty minutes. If not longer. I stay busy by setting the table and lighting candles. I put the bottle of champagne on ice and uncork a Riesling.

At twenty to seven, I get another message from her:

Sorry, got tied up! Just walking out the door. Home soon <3

This is definitely not going the way I planned. I check on dinner. It’s still warm, so that’s good, but it’s been in the oven for almost an hour. I figure there’s nothing I can do but wait, so I flop down on the couch, turn on the TV, and channel surf.

Half an hour passes, and Violet’s still not home. I don’t want to annoy her, but I’m starting to worry. Just as I’m about to send her another message, the house alarm beeps.

“I’m home!” she calls.

I pick myself up off the couch, straighten my button down, which is now wrinkled, and greet her at the side door. She’s leaning against the wall, tugging off her knee-high boots. She shrugs out of her coat and lets it drop, along with her purse. On the floor beside her is a box of files.

She blows her hair out of her face and opens her arms, leaning forward as I step into her. She mashes her face against my chest. “I could fall asleep right here.”

My irritation at her lateness wanes. “Long day?”

“So long, and hard. Like your dick.”

I chuckle. “Hungry?”

“For your dick?”

I laugh again. “For dinner, but you can have him for dessert, if you want.”

She pries herself off me. It seems to take some effort. She really does look like she could pass out standing up. “Jimmy got me takeout from that Thai place down the street a couple hours ago.”

Fucking Jimmy. Ruining my date plan. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I mean, if you want to order takeout I’m sure I could have something small.” She fingers the collar of my shirt. “Oh. Were you planning to take me out?”

“No. I, uh, I ordered in for us. Darren told me about the proposal for the Darcy account, and I thought we could have a kind of dual celebration. You know, like celebrate our anniversary and the account at the same time since we didn’t get to have dinner last night.”

“Oh, Alex, you’re the sweetest. I meant to tell you about it, but then we got naked and obviously I forgot. I didn’t eat all that much, and it was at, like, five, so I can eat again.”

She slips a hand behind my neck and pulls me down for a kiss. It’s a quick one, though, with no tongue.

“We can eat in the living room,” I offer. “It looks like you’d set up for a picnic or something there last night.”

Violet bites her lip and her eyes widen with mischief. “Oh my God! I totally forgot about that! We’ll have to save room for my dessert.”

“To go with my cock?”

“Mmm.” She pats my bulge. “I have special plans for him.”

I smile. “I love special plans. Why don’t you go hang out in the living room and get comfortable. I’ll bring dinner to you.”

“You sure you don’t want any help?”

“I got this.” I kiss from her neck to her cheek, then send her on down the hall.

I guess it would’ve been a good idea to tell her what I was planning instead of assuming she’d be home by six like usual. I make a detour to the dining room and clean off the table, blowing out the candles and putting away the dishes so she doesn’t find them later and feel bad. I bring the champagne and glasses with me to the kitchen. It takes me a while to find the salad bowl. It’s in the wrong cupboard.

I take dinner out of the oven. It looks a little dry, but smells fantastic. I give Violet a small portion, in case she feels obligated to eat it all, and transfer the plates to a tray.

Crossing to the living room, I notice she’s changed the station from hockey to TLC. I stop short when I find her lying on the makeshift bed by the fireplace.

Her skirt is on the floor, but she’s wearing leggings, so she’s still mostly dressed. The first three buttons of her shirt are open, with her lacy bra peeking out. She looks like she’s ready for some fun. My dick thinks so, too, and immediately stands at attention. Except her eyes are closed and her lips are parted—and not because she’s got her hand in her panties.

I set the tray on the coffee table. Her chest rises and falls at regular intervals. Sinking down beside her, I run a finger across her cheek. “Violet? Baby?” She doesn’t move at all.

I could wake her, but she’s obviously exhausted from last night. And probably stressed about presenting her proposal for the Darcys. I press a kiss to her forehead, cover her with a blanket, and grab the remote. Sitting on the couch on the other side of the room, I change the TV back to hockey and settle in with my dinner.

So much for an awesome night of celebrations and blow jobs.

Unbliss

VIOLET

I wake up at three in the morning. The first thing I notice is that I’m starving. I’m also in bed. With Alex, which makes sense considering the time. Except I have zero recollection of getting here. And I’m wide awake—like, ready to get up and start my day, which is insane, considering it’s the middle of the night.

Alex is sleeping on his side, one massive arm tucked under the pillow. He protectively cups my boob with the other hand. He’s frowning in his sleep. He has a game tonight, and when he’s worried about his competition, sometimes he gets anxious. They’re playing Toronto, and Alex has a longstanding hate-on with one of their players.

My stomach rumbles loudly, so I slip out of bed. A midnight snack will help calm the beast in my belly. I’m wearing a tank top and a pair of my Marvel Comics underpants. I wasn’t wearing them when I went to work today, and I don’t remember getting changed.

Confused by my lack of recall, I grab my robe from the bathroom, shove my feet into slippers, and pad down the hall. The light from the kitchen illuminates the stairs enough that I don’t trip my way down. I head straight for the fridge. Inside are takeout boxes from my favorite restaurant and the fruit platter I prepared two days ago.

I review what happened when I arrived home from work last night. I was tired—that’s for sure. After a night of very little sleep and a lot of make-up-for-missed orgasms with Alex, plus our argument before work, I spent the morning in meetings, the afternoon working on Buck’s account, and then finally, at the end of the day I made time to review the changes on my PowerPoint for the Darcy account.

It shouldn’t have been difficult. All the legwork has already been done, but it’s my first presentation, and the account is huge, so I don’t want to fuck it up. I stayed at work way later than I’d planned.

Alex told me he had a nice dinner prepared to celebrate our most recent sexiversary and the Darcy account. I went to hang out in the living room to wait. I even freshened up my beaver in the bathroom. And then I laid down…

Oh, shit
.

I fell asleep on him.

I owe Alex a blow job. Probably more than one now. And I still haven’t had the opportunity to use all the fun treats and items I purchased to celebrate our sexiversary. Not that we didn’t do a good job celebrating already, I just had other tasty plans to go with it.

I check the takeout box. Alex ordered me chicken parmesan from the place that uses lactose-free cheese. It’s stupidly expensive, but it tastes amazing and doesn’t give me the moops. He’s so sweet and considerate.

It makes me feel bad for denying him sex yesterday morning, and then taunting him with the prospect of a blowy in the car, but his dismissal of my job is frustrating. My modest salary doesn’t mean my career is valueless. I like doing what I do, and it helps people. For one thing, I know I’ve kept Buck from screwing up his monetary future. Plus, my minimal financial contribution at least allows me to pretend I have some kind of independence.

I’m living in Alex’s massive house, driving the car he bought me, wearing the clothes his credit cards pay for, and rocking a huge diamond. I need to hold on to at least a tiny piece of my old self. My damn job is the way I’m managing this. I’m good at it. It gives me something to do with my time. I have friends there. And a few enemies, but they’re mostly jealous. Understandably so. I get a lot of perks, and not just because I know how to manage money.