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He doesn’t mean to start the fight. He never means to start shit. Sometimes he just can’t help himself. To be fair to him though, he didn’t strictly start it this time. He’s a little drunk, but, he could’ve walked away. Sharpy is always jokingly telling him to be the bigger man, even if that means he has to, direct quote, “bring an apple box for his stumpy legs.”
But he’s not gonna take this huge asshole in a UChicago football t-shirt talking smack about his defensive lapses, calling Patrick lazy.
“Are you kidding me?” he says, laughing incredulously. “How’s division III treating you, motherfucker?”
The guy shoves his chest, making Patrick rock back a step. “Shut up, shitdick!”
“Really?” Patrick replies lifting his chin. “I mean, really? You let me know when you manage to locate the ball, eh? I gots mine. I’ll ask your mom how she likes it when she asks me for it.”
Patrick knows the punch is coming as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He doesn’t mean to start shit ever, but he’s sure good at it. He’s braced for it, because he isn’t going down like a punkass bitch.
But the punch never lands. This tall girl he didn’t even notice in a sparkly black dress inserts herself between the two of them, her palms on their chests. “Whoa, Steve, cool it, c’mon. How about another beer?” Before UChicago Lamefucker (apparently Steve) can reply she’s shoving a full bottle of Corona with the lime stuffed into the top into Steve’s hands.
Steve glares at Patrick over her head, but he backs up a step. Patrick opens his mouth to fire a parting shot, but the girl gives him a warning look and gets a hand on the back of his neck, just like one of his teammates would and starts hauling him to the door. He’s so astonished that he’s being bounced from the club by a girl in four inch heels, that he sort of lets it happen even though he can see Skillz across the room, chatting with some chicks, and Steeger at the other end of the bar. But her hand is firm on his neck, and he doesn’t think he can shrug her off without causing an embarrassing commotion.
She drags him outside into the cold November air and then gives him another shove, before stepping out onto the street like she thinks he’s gonna try to run back in or something. He stares at her, mouth open. Who the hell is this girl?
_
He’s cute, even if he looks ready for murder, sparking blue eyes and shoulders up like his hackles have actually been raised. Dumb as a post for trying to take on Steve, who’s a defensive lineman, and knows how to throw down even if he’s not going to win any Heisman Trophies.
“What the fuck are we going to do with you, eh?” Jonny asks.
He blinks at her, expression relaxing into wonderment briefly, before he gets fired up all over again. “Not let some overgrown ape run his mouth at me?” he spits. “If you hadn’t—”
“If I hadn’t,” she interrupts with a snort, “you wouldn’t be walking in to practice tomorrow, 88.”
He narrows his eyes at her, tongue running over his teeth, before he shakes his head and lets out a breath. He quirks an eyebrow at her, tugging at his shirt like it needs to be straightened it from the way she yanked on it. “Watch hockey, huh?”
Jonny shrugs. “Born and raised in Winnipeg,” she says, and leaves it at that.
“Fuck,” Patrick says, but the way his eyes dart to the door behind her, it’s clearly meant for himself. “Sometimes—” he breaks off with another sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck. Well that’s cool, I guess.”
“I guess,” she replies, imitating his tone. “Well,” she starts. She means to give him a quick, ‘k, well, see ya’ and a wave, but he looks so lost. She lets out a sigh of her own. She’s got tons of PSets at home. O Chem is killing her. She really needs to get back home so she can wake up early tomorrow and fucking study some more. Med school apps are slaughtering her. She really doesn’t know why she finds herself saying, “C’mon, let’s get some coffee.”
He quirks a grin at her. “Are you gonna drag me by my ear if I say no?”
“You’re not gonna say no,” she replies, turning away from him. She looks both ways and then steps out into street, heading for the all-night diner across the street without checking to see if he’s behind her.
He catches up when she reaches the door, holding it open for her and gesturing her through, like this was his idea all along.
_
Patrick watches her stir her coffee aimlessly while they wait for the food he wound up ordering. She’s pretty hot, he’s decided, dark eyes and glossy dark hair offset by tan skin. And her legs, Jesus. She’s a good bit taller than him in her heels, but he thinks they’d probably be the same height if she was barefoot. All of it from those long stems.
“So, you kinda have me at a disadvantage,” he tells her. “What’s your name?”
She rests her chin on her fist and says, “Jonny.”
“Jonny,” he repeats blankly. “Wait, really? Jonny?”
“Better than Jehanne,” she tells him, and the way she pronounces it, Patrick can tell it’s French.
“Je—” he tries and then immediately gives up. “Yeah, no. Jonny it is!”
“Anglophones can’t really say it. Or they call me Joanne.” She grimaces so dramatically he can tell how she feels about that one. “When I was a kid the coach on my pee wee team pronounced it Je-hahn. When she said it fast it sounded kinda like Jon, so my teammates started calling me Jonny.”
“You played?” he asks.
She puts her hand down and looks back at her coffee. “Not for years and years now.”
Patrick looks her over. “Were you any good?”
She smiles big. “Yeah, I was good.”
The waitress stops by then to drop off his pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Hearty food to sop up the alcohol. He does have skate tomorrow. Hangovers aren’t really his jam. She stares at him as he eats the pancakes slathered in syrup and there’s something in her face that almost makes him laugh out loud.
“You want some?” he asks, cutting off a bite and holding out his fork.
“I can’t do lactose or sugar,” she says with a regretful expression and then tilts her coffee cup toward him. “Why do you think I’m drinking this shit black?”
“Isn’t that what all the cool kids do? Drink it black like their souls?” he says. When she makes a face at him, he says, “C’mon, what about bacon? Surely you can have a piece of bacon.”
He pushes the plate toward her with a meaningful expression. Jonny hesitates for a moment before nabbing a strip delicately and taking a bite.
“Atta girl!” Patrick says. “So, what the hell were you doing with that bruiser back there?”
Jonny takes another strip of bacon before answering, “I wasn’t with him. He’s friends with my roommate’s lame boyfriend. We were out to celebrate her 21st birthday. I wasn’t gonna not go just because that asshole is along.” She pauses and shoots him a look like she’s just thought of something. “You were drafted in 07. There’s no way you’re 21. What are they doing giving punks like you more than you can handle?”
“Hey!” he protests. “I’ll be 21 in three weeks, FYI. Aaaaaand I have a fake.”
“You don’t get recognized?”
“Not that many hockey-playing broads from Canada running around to bust my balls, what can I say,” Patrick replies. The truth is, some of the time he probably does and they wave him through. But he’s on his third season in the NHL. There are some perks to being a sports star, even if the Hawks are stumbling right now. He doesn’t think she’ll like that answer though. “So you go to UChicago?”
“Yeah, this is my last year,” she answers, just as her phone vibrates on the table. She looks over at the caller ID and holds up a finger. “One sec, I gotta take this.”
Patrick gestures at her to go ahead with his fork and then digs back into his pancakes as he pretends not to eavesdrop.
“Hey, what’s up?” Jonny says brightly. There’s a short pause before she says, “What? You left? What do you mean you left? I’ve barely been gone for fifteen minutes.”
Patrick looks up at her as she groans.
“Jess, you were supposed to be my ride home!” Her eyes flick over to Patrick quickly and then she drops her voice, “No, I’m not hooking up. Oh my god. Why would I answer my phone if I was hooking up?”
Patrick smothers a laugh.
“I can’t believe you left! I’m at a diner not even a block away…You’re demoted as a friend,” she says, plaintively, but it’s with the edge of laughter in her voice. “I won’t forget this….I’ll see you as soon as I manage to bus my ass home, thanks for nothing.”
She hangs up with a quick goodbye, making a face at it as she sets it down.
“Ugh, it’s like an hour back to campus at this time of night and I need to get up early. Jess, you suck!” she announces to the room at large, before she looks back over at him with her eyes narrowed. “You’re proving to be more trouble than you’re worth, 88.”
Patrick very deliberately cuts a piece of his pancake and then takes a bite. He doesn’t love the idea of a girl alone on public transportation at 2 AM, but he’s definitely had too many to drive. The thing is, he likes her. It’s not just that he wants to get into her pants--name a chick he doesn’t want to bone. It's just there aren’t many girls who’d be willing to haul a guy ready to get into a fight outside without any help.
He hesitates a moment longer, before saying, “If you need to, you can crash at mine.” She stares at him, expression inscrutable, and he clarifies quickly, “Just crashing!”
She looks down at her phone and then back at him. He can see on her face how obviously she doesn’t want to take the bus, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, even though he specified just crashing that there might be some interest there.
She says, “I—are you sure?”
“I’ve been assured my couch is excellent,” he tells her as he signals for the check.
“I’m not sure you and excellent belong in the same sentence, friend.”
“Say what?” he replies. “I’ll have you know I’m excellent at many things. Horse shoes. Blowing bubbles. Making peanut butter & jelly sandwiches.”
“Just how drunk are you, buddy?”
“I’m not drunk!” he protests. “Or, well, I am drunk, but also I’m just adorable.”
“Uhuh,” she says. “I have a feeling you’ve heard that a lot in life.”
He winks at her. “Only cause it’s true.”
She looks at him for a long moment with her head cocked and he thinks, yes, score, he’s definitely got her at least charmed. Patrick pays the bill when it comes, waving away Jonny’s attempts to get her wallet.
When she drains her coffee mug, she sets it down with a thump and says, “Lead on, partner,” he nearly does a victory fist pump at the table. Keep it together, Kane, he reminds himself, there are plenty of people who are very excited to go home with you.
_
So this is stupid. She doesn’t do hookups. Jonny’s slept with exactly one boy. Technically, she’s still with that boy. Although when Dan asked her for the break, it was hard not to think of it as being dumped. He’d said this whole bit about how he just wanted to see other people. He’d explained that they’d been together since they were kids. He wanted the freedom to explore or whatever. Jonny hadn’t known what to do with that. She didn’t want to see other people. Trying something casual just for sex the way her friends sometimes did wasn’t really her thing. No judgments, but Jonny wasn’t built that way. And now, of course, the first time she maybe kinda was interested in that, and Patrick had been tripping all over himself to make it clear he had no intention of sleeping with her.
His apartment is within walking distance, he says, and by walking distance he means Trump Tower. She knows she’s staring as they walk past the doorman. This place is ridiculous.
“Pretty rad, huh?” he says as he hits the button for the elevator.
“You don’t do anything by halves, do you?” Jonny tells him. Patrick’s smile is electric.
“Okay, I gotta ask you a question,” he says, as he gestures her into the elevator.
“Yes?” Jonny replies, suspiciously.
“It’s early November, woman,” he asks, running his finger over her bare shoulder along the strap of her dress. “Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?”
She ignores how good the casual contact of his warm fingertips against her chill skin feels. She’s not uncomfortable without a jacket, but it is a little bit nippy out. “Oh, come on. You think this is cold? It’s in the 40s.”
“Oh yes, nice toasty warm weather for that little dress.”
“It’s okay to admit it if you’re just a pussy,” Jonny tells him, leaning back on the handrail.
“You’re so full of shit,” he answers, right as the doors part. He tosses over his shoulder, eyes dipping meaningfully, “Your headlights are showing.”
Jonny’s eyes drop to her chest, spotting her proudly erect nipples. She considers putting her arms over them. But hell, they’ve been out there on display for god knows how long. The thing is—she can’t be sure how much is from the cold and how much is from the crackling awareness of Patrick. Who apparently just wants her to crash.
_
While Patrick finds her a blanket and a better pillow Jonny gets settled on the couch, working off her strappy heels. When he gets back, she’s taking off her earrings and placing them carefully in her purse. Her dress hem has ridden up high around thighs that look strong and muscular, the filmy skirt edging even higher as she moves around. He doesn’t realize he’s been caught staring until she clears her throat.
“Sorry,” he says, even though he wants nothing more than to gather her up and muss up her dark hair, kiss her until her knees give out.
“So…” she says awkwardly, picking at a stray thread on her dress. Patrick clears his throat at the same moment that she blurts out, “I have a boyfriend.”
“Huh?” he says, holding the blanket in front of him even though she doesn’t reach out to take it.
She blushes bright red and ducks her head. “Shit. I mean. My boyfriend is—we’re on a break,” she gets out with eyes on her knees.
“Okay,” Patrick says carefully, setting the blanket down at one end of the couch. Oh boy, this is not where he saw this going. Or it isn’t what he was hoping for, in any event. He can feel himself sliding into his big brother mode as he sits down beside her.
“I—I’ve just never,” she breaks off, frustrated, looking like she’s searching for the right words. “Fuck, I’ve been with him since I was freshman, he was my first, and one day he just says he thinks it would be a good idea to see other people.”
“You didn’t want a break?”
Jonny snorts and blows out a breath. “I don’t have time to see other people. I’m applying to six medical schools. I was studying for the MCAT all summer long. So what this really means is he wants to see other people, because we both know I’m not gonna.”
“You wanna be a doctor?” Patrick asks.
“That’s the plan,” Jonny says as he leans back against the couch. “Part of me wonders if it’s because I was so busy we couldn’t fool around much, you know? My friends say I’m crazy and Dan would never. But, he’s already got a job lined up with Goldman. He’s got no fucking clue what it’s like, not knowing where I’m gonna be next year.”
“Goldman?” he asks.
“Goldman Sachs? The I-banking firm?” she offers. Patrick shakes his head. It doesn’t sound familiar. She reaches over and pats his knee. “Oh, buddy, I really hope you have a financial planner.”
Patrick opens his mouth. He has a stock portfolio or something. His dad’s kind of in charge of that, so he doesn’t really know what’s going on there, and obviously he invested in Harry Caray’s new restaurant too. It’s not like he’s throwing away all his money on hookers and blow. And his killer sound system was a totally justified purchase, no matter what his mother says. He decides it’s just better not to go there, because this chick wants to be a doctor, and he doesn’t fancy his chances for any defense of how responsible he is against that. They both know from events only a few hours earlier he doesn’t have much ground to stand on.
“So what are you going to do about it?” Patrick asks her. He’s got no clue what Dan’s like, or what the ins and outs are of their relationship, but Patrick finds himself hating the dude on principle.
“Whine to you on your couch apparently,” she tells him with a short laugh, scrubbing a hand across her face. After a moment she shoots him a glance. “Or…”
_
“Or?” Patrick prompts, blond lashes dipping down over blue eyes. He’s close enough that Jonny can see the dusting of freckles he has across the bridge of his nose.
Well, fuck, life is short. If he’s not interested, he can tell her so, she thinks as she leans in and and presses their mouths together. He lets her do it, not kissing back for a long mortifying moment that makes her think she totally read that one wrong, but then he’s tilting her chin up and running his fingers through her hair. His lips are soft under hers, sliding together with infinite care, and when Jonny pushes at his chest, forcing him to sink back into the couch, he goes easily, tugging her down on top of him.
He’s warm and solid underneath her, and when she shifts against him, pulling back just a little, he follows her, chasing the kiss. She still can’t believe she’s doing this—her heart pounds hard in her chest and her fingers are fisted tight in his shirt, but it feels good. That was Dan’s point, wasn’t it? To try new things? See if they felt good. His tongue flickers against hers in a lewd wet dance as he draws maddening circles on her bare back with the tips of fingers. She’s aware of every inch of her body and all the places they’re pressed together—her breasts crushed to his chest, his thigh between hers, his cock thickening up against her belly—and wants more.
“God,” she mutters as she raises herself up, shifting again this time to split her thighs over his lap. When the ridge of his growing hardon slots intimately against her, she has to take a moment to stop and breathe. He watches her behind heavily lidded eyes, hands moving to toy with the hem of her dress, lightly brushing the tops of her thighs. She’s wet in her panties, slickening up as she rocks experimentally back and forth, rubbing herself off on him. He just seems to keep getting harder and bigger.
Patrick licks his lower lip and says, “You keep doing that and we’re definitely not going to just crash.”
“I think we’ve already crossed the rubicon, ace,” she replies, dipping her head to meet his mouth again. He runs his palms up her body, emboldened by her reply, sliding around to cup her breasts. She doesn’t have a lot in that department, but Dan always called them the nice kind of skinny girl tits, round and wide and perky, as opposed to the pointy triangles some flat chicks had. Patrick seems to like them anyway if the way he’s palming them is any indication. It’s not doing much for her though, especially not with that sweet unanswered ache in her clit, that isn’t going to go anywhere.
“Hi,” she says with a laugh, cupping her palm over one of his hands. Patrick darts his eyes up to her face and then he lifts his head, bringing his mouth to one pert nipple, sucking on it through the filmy fabric of her dress, making a noise when she involuntarily rolls her hips down hard. His hands fall to her ass, dragging her down on him.
“Oh god, where’s your bed?” she moans, clutching at his shoulder and the back of the couch as she keeps moving against him.
“You don’t want to fuck right here on my excellent couch?” he asks with a cheeky grin.
She laughs, unsure how she can find him both ridiculous and hot at the same time. She nips at the full curve of his lower lip. “Your ‘excellent’ couch isn’t doing it for me, sorry.”
“Mm, well, room’s down the hall,” he says, jerking his head back in the direction behind him. He smirks at her. “But you’ll have to let me up.”
-
Jonny’s in his bedroom, taking off her dress, hopefully about to be naked, and honestly, this is better than anything that he ever could hoped for. She turns away from him as she drags the side zip down and lets the dress fall down her body to the floor. She’s not wearing a bra and her simple black cotton panties cling tight to her ass. He lets out an involuntary groan like he’s been awed by a piece of art. That has got to be the most gorgeous ass he’s ever seen in person. Full and round, the swell of her high cheeks peeking out under the fabric makes him want to slide his dick in between and ride the crease of it.
She turns back around when she steps out of her dress and kicks it aside. Oh god. She’s tan everywhere, even her tits. She must lie out in the sun naked. The thought of it, of her, stretched out on a beach, beautiful ass bare to the world is honestly making him a little lightheaded. There’s no way she hasn’t heard a million Sir Mix-a-Lot jokes, so he refrains, but it’s a near thing.
He knows he’s just standing there, staring, erection awkwardly tenting up his pants, but he doesn’t know how to get in motion. She shifts under his scrutiny, flush spreading down her chest, and he can’t help making another agonized noise at the sight of her rosy nipples so full and tight.
“Well? Show me the goods, 88,” she says, unashamed in her nakedness.
He shrugs out of his shirt, and then kicks out of his jeans in a hurry to comply. Shit. The way she keeps using his number like that. Yes, that’s working for him. He slows down when he gets to his boxers though. Never let it be said that he doesn’t have an appropriate sense of drama.
Her eyes widen when he tugs the waistband below his balls before letting his boxers hit the floor.
“This uh…this explains so much about you,” she says, eyes on his cock.
“Oh yeah?” he says casually, fisting it in a loose grip, watching her eyes track the movement of his hand.
“You definitely have a disproportionate sense of confidence—taking on dudes three times your size—I guess I know why.”
Patrick has to laugh, sheepishly, ducking his head to his hide his warm cheeks. She’s not entirely wrong, but it feels pretty ridiculous to have a chick lay it out there. He would like to believe his motivations run a little deeper than the size of his cock anyway. But then also? Nah.
She’s still staring at it, eyes wide. “What do you even do with that thing? I feel like the mood is broken.”
“What?” he asks, laughing incredulously. “Are you afraid of it?”
"No, I’m not afraid of your—” she breaks off, clearly unsure how to proceed. That’s right, Patrick reminds himself, she’s only been with one guy. Having sex with somebody she just met is all new to her.
“If you’re worried that it’ll fit? Lemme assure you, it will fit,” he tells her and then tugs her into a kiss, backing them both onto his bed, cock bumping against her belly. They tumble back onto the mattress in a heap, legs tangling together, and she’s giggling into his kiss, so he takes that for a good sign.
They got lost again nibbling at each other’s mouths, slowly grinding together. She makes these soft little moans that are going right to his gut. God, he can’t wait ‘til he’s inside her, the sounds she’d make with his cock in her. He wonders where she’s at, if she’s as hot for him as he is for her. Out there on the couch she’d looked half ready to pry his pants open and climb aboard, but that doesn’t mean she’s entirely warmed up, especially given that his dick makes her nervous. She looked genuinely apprehensive at the sight of it. He’s never had that happen before.
He brings his hand down between their bodies, fingers sliding into her panties, and finds her gratifyingly drenched, so wet his fingers slip easily over her soft folds. He interrupts their kiss to meet her eyes, an eyebrow quirked, only just barely holding back a grin.
She groans and covers her blushing face.
“Hmm, feels like you’re into my thing anyway,” he says, rolling his hips so that his cock nudges the crease of her thigh.
"You’re the worst!” she says, face still covered, laughter evident in her voice. She isn’t fooling anybody though, not with her hips hitching up with every stroke of his fingers.
_
“Nah, I’m the best,” he tells her, thumbing her clit and bending his head to brush kisses along her throat.
When he sinks a finger inside and curves it up like some wizard, it’s right on her g-spot. She lets out a throaty noise, spine arching involuntarily. She’s never really paid attention to her g-spot, people are always going on about how it’s some magic button or whatever, but that hasn’t ever been her experience. Not with her own fingers, not with Dan. She’d like, found it or whatever, but was never terribly impressed by it. This is a whole new world.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” she says.
“You okay?” he asks, curling his finger into her g-spot again.
“Yes, I’m okay!” she hisses. “Don’t you fucking stop.”
He’s using more pressure than she ever tried, sliding a second finger inside and pressing up with the pads of his fingertips, working her like he knows her pussy better than she does, which at this point, she’s willing to admit he might. When he thumbs a circle around her clit at the same time it feels so good it almost hurts.
She’s so wet, her pussy makes sloppy noises every time his fingers drive into her. With a little more presence of mind, she’d be embarrassed, but right now she wants to come with a feverish desperate ache that’s got her all strung out.
“You’re so tight,” he says, sucking the sensitive flesh of her earlobe into his mouth before scraping his teeth across it. Jonny’s not surprised. She doesn’t fingerfuck herself, because two hours ago she would’ve sworn on a stack of bibles it wasn’t something she liked, and she hasn’t had sex with Dan in a while. The biggest thing that’s gone up there in recent memory is a tampon. She’s certainly feeling the stretch just from his two fingers. He sounds honestly concerned when he says, “Jesus, maybe you won’t be able to take me.”
She doesn’t know why, but thinking about the way he’d fill her up, fuck her open, kicks her right over the edge, until she’s coming hard, tightening down around his fingers until it feels like her body will have their shape memorized forever. She realizes distantly she’s swearing up a storm, but it’s like her mouth has disconnected from the rest of her brain in a wash of static as her orgasm rolls through her.
“Hoo, girl, the mouth on you,” Patrick tells her when she’s coming down, warm and deep right next to her ear.
She’s breathing hard, sheened with sweat, breasts heaving like she ran stairs.
“So?” he says, when she’s started to come down a little.
“What, you want a comment card?” she mumbles breathlessly. Fuck, okay, five stars for Patrick Kane. Shit though, his ego doesn’t need the stroking, though it seems almost criminal not to tell him that she can count on one hand the number of times she’s come that hard.
"Recognition is always appreciated,” he says loftily, his dick still stiff against her belly.
“Just get a condom, sparky,” she tells him, kneeing him in the side while he laughs, delighted with himself.
“You got it,” he says, brushing another kiss over her mouth before reaching for his nightstand. He pulls out an intimidating roll of them, but then only tears one off, before shoving the rest back into a drawer.
Jonny watches him rip the packet it open with his teeth and then roll the thing on his cock in one practiced move.
“Et voila!” he says when he’s fully sheathed.
She can’t help it. He’s so ridiculous she’s laughing as she drags her back to him, letting him fit himself at her opening. He doesn’t seem to mind. She doesn’t have a lot of experience, none really beyond Dan, but she would never laugh at him. He takes teasing so seriously in bed. She knows this isn’t just a Dan thing. She’s heard from a lot girls never to laugh at a guy during sex. Perhaps Patrick just has such a healthy sense of self that nothing could even dent that ego. She’s willing to bet that’s at least partially true, anyway.
She can’t help going tense though when he works the tip in. Shit it’s a lot.
He pauses immediately and asks, “All good?”
“Yes, you’re just—Dan doesn’t—I’m just not used to somebody so large,” she says and when he cracks up, she has to whack him on the shoulder. “Shut up, that’s not a compliment.”
“We all know I’m superior to that guy,” he shoots back easily, but his breathing is gratifyingly labored.
_
All joking aside, he might actually be too big for Jonny’s twat. He keeps his hand at the base of his cock so that he doesn’t give her too much and wonders what the hell they’re going to do about it if that’s the case when then she shifts her hips a little, putting her arms up over her head, head tilted back into the pillows. She breathes out in one long stream and the next thing he knows, she’s relaxing around him like she willed herself into it.
“What?” he can’t help saying, because he’s never seen something like that in his life.
“You should learn to do your asanas, amateur,” she says, with her eyes still closed, sucking her lower lip back into her mouth.
She’s so tight he’s seeing stars, so he thinks he can be forgiven for getting a little lost in the feel of her vice-like heat clenched down around him. She’s got other ideas though. She hooks a leg over his hip elastically, pulling him tighter into her. And holy shit, of course Jonny is the bendy chick you always hope you’ll end up in bed with.
Slowly he begins to move his hips, working himself a little deeper into her, starting a slow roll in and out. It’s doing wonders for him. God, every single thrust makes him feel like he’s right about to fall over the edge, even as he’s being so careful not to go too deep. He gets his hands down on her thighs, spreads them into a wide straddle just to see if he can. She parts her legs so easily it’s unreal and she’s taking the full thickness of his cock like she was made for it. Oh god, Patrick never wants to leave.
After a while though, it becomes clear that this is not doing it for her the same way it is for him. Gone are the arrested gasps and little moans of earlier. She lies there, languidly pliable under him, very nicely petting his hair, but the spark isn’t there. He doesn’t want her to just lie there, waiting him out. He wants her to enjoy this. He’s not some ingrate.
“You’re not into this?” he asks, pushing up enough so that he can look down at her. Her face is flushed, but impassive.
She chuckles a little and pats his shoulder while he moves inside her. “It feels good, but I’m not gonna come this way.”
Stung a little, he gapes at her for a moment, before breathing out, “Says who?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I can’t come with a dick in me.”
“You just came on my hand,” he points out, rocking against her. “What’s different about it?”
He switches it up, tries thrusting at a shallower angle, hoping to hit that one spot inside over and over. He must get it right, because there’s no hiding the way her mouth drops open, eyes wide in surprise.
She’s panting even as she protests, “Like, only thirty percent of women can come from penetration.”
“Baby, I can work with thirty percent,” he says. Thirty percent is better odds than he has most of the time. He’s gonna rock her world, make her come again just like this. He bends his head to flick his tongue over one distended nipple, sucking as he gets a spread-fingered palm under that flawless ass and pulls, tilting her up into him. Her thighs come up around his middle, and she squeezes him so tight, that can’t be anything other than a good sign. That said, if it took Jonny’s sheer force of will to relax, it’s taking everything he has not to just give it up and empty himself inside her. But he’s got a goal here and he’s not about to go down without giving it the good old college try.
He keeps track of his cock with every thrust inside, making sure she doesn’t take too much, but she’s started making these hungry noises every time he withdraws, like she’s disappointed with what she’s getting. When he starts to lengthen his strokes in, still roofing it for her g-spot, she lets out a gasping moan, shivering. It’s the best sound in the entire world. He wants her to come, wants it to be good for her so badly.
It takes him a moment to notice that she’s started rolling up into him, thrusting back against him, like she’s trying to get more than he’s giving. It nearly blows his mind.
_
Jonny feels unreasonably full every time he thrusts deeper inside, but she doesn’t want it to stop either. If she could spread herself any wider, let him get closer, she would.
She sucks in a breath and says, “Here, can you–”
He pauses before she’s even got the words out, meeting her eyes. Her cheeks burn even hotter at the knowledge of what she wants, but she decides she doesn’t care, shoving at his shoulder so that she can push herself up onto her elbows and watch. She just—holy shit he’s got a big fucking dick. Dan had length, but he was slender and prone to slamming up against her cervix in a truly unsexy way if he pushed in too far. Patrick’s dick sinking over and over inside her makes her cunt look all pink and stretched, like porn.
He slows down even further, thrusts in deep and purposeful, finally giving her all of his cock, letting her see that she’s actually taking every last inch.
“Oh, fuck,” she says, trembling hard. When she looks up, he’s still watching her face, expression unreadable. It makes something go kinda funny in her chest. She quickly drops her eyes back down to his dick as it disappears inside her body. It’s ridiculous and she doesn’t know what it says about her, but she feels kind of amazing about the fact that she’s taking all of that thick cock into herself, he’s that far inside her, lingering, filling her up ‘til she’s practically choking with it.
When she comes it’s with him rocking his hips in steady firm pushes, her frantically watching his cock drive inside her. The orgasm feels almost entirely psychological. She can’t help the way her arms and legs close as she gives it up, wrapping herself around him, thighs clutching his hips. She knows she’s probably holding him too tight, nails sunk into the delicate skin of his back, so lost in it as it wracks her body. He’s stilled in her arms, just letting her hold on, but when the last contraction goes through her, clenching down around him, he cries out, hips jerking spasmodically. She’s tipped him right over the edge.
She knows that guys get all proud or whatever about making a chick come on their dicks, given his stated goals, he’s probably 100% smug. But as stupid as it may seem, she’s pretty fucking proud of the way he came from her orgasm. Her pussy did that.
She keeps her face buried in his neck for long moments after that, feeling his heartbeat even into a steady rhythm and his breaths start coming regularly. Her heart is in her throat. That felt—well, she doesn’t remember sex being anything like that—and the thought makes her feel vaguely guilty.
“Hey, beautiful,” Patrick says, nudging their foreheads together. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she says softly, carding her hands through his hair. Whatever, Dan was the one who wanted a break. Maybe it just feels so good because a little part of her wants to get back at him in some way. That’s so stupid. She does want to get back at him a little, but also, credit where it’s due, Patrick knows what he’s doing. And his cock…
Jonny watches Patrick as he gets up to dispose of the condom and then disappears into the bathroom. She takes stock of herself, the pleasant soreness between her thighs and the languor in her well-used muscles. She stretches her arms up above her head, cracking her back with a pleased sigh. The sensation feels nearly as good as the sex itself.
When she opens her eyes, he’s standing in the doorway, naked and eating an apple, casual as you please. His eyes are intent upon her, and she notices he’s already starting to fatten back up.
“Want some?” he offers, and at first she thinks he outrageously means his cock again, but then realizes he’s talking about the apple when he holds it out for her to take a bite.
“I’m good,” she says. The thing is, Jonny’s already come twice. It doesn’t seem fair that Patrick’s only had the once. When they started this, she was pretty sure he was the only one who was going to come from the actual fucking. Jonny believes in reciprocity, but she’s also vain enough to want to be as good of a lay for him, as he was for her. She drops her thighs back open to reveal her pussy. “You want?”
Patrick goes all the way hard in moments.
This time when they get the condom on him, she rides him, clinging to his shoulders.
“How are you still so damn tight?“ he asks her, as she slowly rises up and down on him, thigh muscles working hard to keep her pace even, to keep from impaling herself on his cock. Jonny’s just opening her mouth to reply when he beats her to the punch, "Right, right, our friend Dan’s dipstick, I remember.”
She picks up one of his pillows and bats him in the face with it. “Shut up! He’s not that bad!”
“Mmhm,” Patrick replies serenely, lifting his hips and putting a little extra oomph into his next thrust. She can’t help the gasp that spills out of her mouth.
-
They fuck until Jonny can’t anymore, too tender to take it any longer, but Patrick can’t help himself, he ends up moving down her body, putting his mouth on her pussy and licking her until she’s twisted into the sheets, calling his name, and shaking apart all over again. If his dick wasn’t thoroughly done, that would surely get him interested in going another round.
They kiss lazily afterwards, until Jonny catches sight of his alarm clock.
“Oh my god, it’s 5 AM!”
“What? No it isn’t—” he says pushing himself up so he can take a look. “Oh wow, it is!
“We’ve been having sex for three hours,” she says, like she’s horrified. She groans into his pillow. “Oh my god, I was gonna get up early this morning and do work, fuck.”
Patrick grimaces. He has to be up and ready to go at the Ice House in six hours. They’re a mess between the two of them, Patrick has to go searching to find his comforter from where they kicked it into the floor. Her lips are swollen, hair sticking to her forehead from sweat, makeup smeared at the corner of her eyes. He drags it up over them both unable to keep from snickering.
“What?” she asks, turning towards him.
“This is just…really not how I saw my night going.”
“Stop getting into stupid fights,” she tells him with a yawn, arching into another stretch. She pulls the blanket up to her chin and before Patrick can say anything else to her, passes right out.
Shit, Patrick thinks, feeling an odd fond sensation expanding inside his chest. Shit.
His alarm clock goes off seemingly minutes later, but when he checks it’s already 10 AM. He turns it off and moans weakly into his pillow. He’s exhausted, thankfully not hungover, but he’s definitely feeling the fact that he spent several good hours athletically entwined with the girl lying next to him. She makes a noise, turning over, blinking bleary eyes at him.
“Shh, don’t get up, I gotta go to practice,” he tells her as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “But you should sleep some more.”
She nods sleepily, eyes sliding closed again. God, Patrick just wants to stay with her here in this bed. It’s hell getting out of their warm little cave under the covers, to dash off to a quick shower and a shorter breakfast of hastily poured cheerios at his breakfast bar.
He’s a mess at practice, sluggish, tired, keeps misunderstanding instructions, yet for some reason he can’t keep the grin off his face. Quenneville reams him out after his fifth blown pass in a drill.
“Get your head in the fucking game, Kane,” he shouts, while Patrick does his best to look contrite.
When they hit the showers, Sharpy thumps him in the side and asks, “You hit the sauce too hard last night, son?”
“I behaved myself! Left before last call, just had trouble sleeping,” he protests, and then has to take a moment just to remember it. God last night had been good.
“Ohoh,” Sharpy says knowingly. “So it’s like that eh? What’s her name?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Patrick replies, but he can’t keep from grinning.
_
Jonny wakes up to the sound of a door opening and closing after the best sleep she’s had in months. God, Patrick’s bed is nice. She wonders what time it is, opening bleary eyes to peer at the clock, and then has to bolt upright in bed. 2 PM! Jesus christ, she had shit she wanted to do today. Fuck she’s so dumb. She’d meant to leave before he woke up, and then when that didn’t happen, she’d only meant to nap for another half hour. She doesn’t know how these hookup rules work, but she’s pretty sure she’s overstayed her welcome.
“You’re still here,” Patrick says from the doorway, interrupting her scrambled thought process.
“I…uh…just woke up,” Jonny says, holding the sheets up over her chest, embarrassed.
“No, I’m glad, I was worried you might skip out on me,” he says, sitting at the edge of the bed. Jonny feels relief wash over her.
“No, but I should though. I have so much work to do,” she says with a long sigh. “Geez, I’m going to have to do a walk of shame in the middle of the afternoon in yesterday’s dress. Fuck.”
“I might have some stuff here that’ll fit you,” Patrick tells her. She raises a brow at him. “Not like that! From my sisters. They’re always leaving stuff when they come stay with me.”
“I should take a shower,” she says, instead of answering.
His hair’s still curling wet on his forehead from the shower that he must’ve had at the end of practice, but he still smiles, that wicked edge that’s grown familiar curling his lips, and asks, “Can I join you?”
Jonny feels an answering warmth between her thighs, even as she hesitates. She should say no. If they start that up again she’ll never get out of here.
“Yeah,” she says, like her mouth has a mind of its own.
They don’t fuck, despite the suggestive look he gives her when she asks him what the hell he needs the bench for in his palatial dual-head shower.
“I have plans for that bench,” he tells her with a far off look in his eyes.
“Plans,” she replies. “Oh my god.”
It’s nice though, horsing around with him in there. They’re the same height now that she’s not in heels, and yet he still manages to feel solid when he pushes her up against the cool tile, boxing her in with his body and kissing her as the water rains down around them. She had felt the power in his core and shoulders when he fucked her, but it’s something else to see all those glistening muscles when he soaps up. And she can’t even explain how it makes her feel when he turns around and she notices the scratches all down his back.
“I’m sorry.” She runs her finger gently down one welt and he shivers and looks over his shoulder. “Did your teammates notice?”
“That you clawed my back up?” He snickers. “We don’t exactly spend a lot of time staring at each other in the showers.”
She pinches his ass hard.
“Gah! Woman, do you have some kind of fetish for leaving bruises?” He turns around quickly, catching her hands before she can do any more damage.
“I’m trying to apologize here!”
“And I’m not letting you,” he says, brushing their noses together, “because I don’t mind.”
“Okay,” she replies, hoping her voice doesn’t betray how sweet she thinks that is.
When she finally leaves in yesterday’s dress, because his sister’s stuff was all too small to fit her, it’s with a spring in her step. He wants to drive her, but she vetoes that.
“Hell no, I’m not showing up on campus in your car, declaring myself your flavor of the night. Let me keep my dignity,” she says, standing in his doorway.
He’s quick to protest, “Hey, I don’t think of you as the fla—”
She interrupts him because his reassurances are unnecessary. It was what it was, and that is totally okay with her. “I needed this, so, thank you.”
He opens his mouth and then stops. “Glad to be of service,” he says after a moment with another dazzling grin.
“See you around, 88,” she says over her shoulder as she makes her way to the elevator bank.
_
Contrary to popular belief—popular belief that he may have propagated—Patrick doesn’t actually hook up that often. He definitely could, but sneaking in after curfew or making his way home at 4 am had begun to lose its charm a while ago. He’s got a party boy rep, but hockey’s his life. There were times when he was growing up where he was at a turning point in the road and he maybe could’ve said I’m not going to do this anymore. He’s had doubts. There’s that teary phone call his mother loves to talk about, after all. But he doesn’t remember what those doubts felt like. He thinks about Jonny a lot on the circus trip. Not in a sappy way or anything—the sex was good, frankly, the sex was tops, but also he really liked her—okay yes, in a sappy way.
He can’t help but do a little light facebook stalking when they’re stuck in the airport. There aren’t many girls named Jonny who go to University of Chicago, so she’s not that hard to find. The profile picture is of her and some friends sitting on top of some mountain, sunglasses on their faces, and hair pulled back. They’re red and dusty and must’ve gotten done with a long hike.
She has horrible taste in music and movies according to her likes. The Tragically Hip? Could she be anymore Canadian? What really gives him pause though is the relationship status.
She and Dan still show up on the page in a relationship together. Clearly when Dan called for the break it wasn’t enough to merit updating facebook. He wonders what the hell that douchewad is even thinking. When he clicks on the guy’s facebook page, he raises his brows. Well. He hopes Dan Watt is smart, because in every other category, as far as Patrick can tell, Jonny is dating way down.
_
Because of the day she missed, she feels like she spends the rest of the week playing catch up on work. All of her friends keep telling her to stop stressing, but even if she’s not about to tell them what exactly she got up to, there are 24 usable hours in a day. There’s no need to waste three of them on sex, not when those hours are all that’s standing between her and getting into Johns Hopkins. The other bizarre thing is that she’s spent the entire week feeling strangely unfulfilled whenever she tries to get herself off. Jonny’s pretty wired at the best of times, finds it hard to shut off. Her method for years has been to rub one out if sleep remains elusive. And she has never really needed more than her fingers before. Nobody can get Jonny off better than she can herself. But her fingers don’t feel adequately large enough anymore. Of course Patrick fucking Kane would figure out how to rewire her pussy.
She thumps her head back against the pillows after another weak orgasm. It’s 4 AM. She has to be up for class in four hours. Not even curving her fingers into her g-spot feels the same as when he did it.
Well. At least one of those issues can be solved.
She makes Jess go with her to the sex toy shop the next afternoon so that she doesn’t have to go alone. It’s her fault Jonny got in this mess. Jonny would be happily taking care of business if she’d gotten that ride home.
She regrets it though when she realizes that it means Jess will see exactly what she wants to purchase. There’s no casual way to select a thick vibrator off the shelf. Sure enough, it takes Jess exactly 3 seconds to comment.
“Oh my god! That thing is like the width of my wrist!” she says, looking at Jonny with wide eyes. “What the hell?”
Jonny’s glad she can’t see her face, but she’s sure it’s a shameful scarlet. “Let’s say I tried it with a bigger guy.”
Jess elbows her and hisses, “You said you weren’t hooking up when I called!”
“Well, I wasn’t at the time!”
“And what, he was hung?” She looks ready to shake Jonny for details.
“He was definitely bigger,” Jonny replies. Jess shakes her head with a smirk on her face. Jonny didn’t think it would be possible for her face to get any redder. “What? It felt good!”
“I mean, I wouldn’t know, is that—was he as big as that?” Jess asks, gesturing at the box.
Jonny shrugs, looking around, hoping nobody is paying attention to them. “Just about?”
“Jesus christ, that’s like—porn big!” Jess tells her. “Well are you going to see him again?”
Jonny shakes her head. “Nah. It really was a hookup.”
“Oh, I see, hence our foray to find a plastic dupe,” Jess says. “Jonny, Jonny, Jonny—who knew you had it in you? Well I guess he had it in you—”
“Shut up, I’m going to pay for this.”
She tries it that night and the toy does wind up working for her, but the problem is her body recalls his so perfectly, she spends the entire time thinking about him. Ugh, fucking Patrick Kane.
She’s in lab a few days later, when her phone buzzes with a text in her bag. She can’t believe it when it turns out to be a text from one PKANE NUMBA1. It’s just a simple “what up,” but she finds herself blushing and laughing at the same time. He must have programmed his number into her phone.
“You okay, Jonny?” Noah, her lab partner, asks.
“Yeah, yeah, fine,” she waves him off. She winds up typing back quickly ur so creepy! how did you even get this number, stalker?
The instantaneous response makes her snort.
I play to win, baby
_
He figures it’s a good sign when she replies to his first text pretty much immediately.
“What are you doing?” Duncs asks, when he sees Patrick’s victory fistpump. They’re sitting on the bus on the way to the airport for their game in San Jose.
“Your mom,” he replies, and angles his cellphone screen away from him.
“Weak, man,” Duncs replies, shaking his head. Patrick refrains from sticking out his tongue. He’s not sure how to reply to her latest text which is just a simple: OMG. He can practically see her amused judgy face. Okay, programming his number into her phone and then calling his own phone while she was changing was definitely a little creepy. But he figured if she was really disturbed she could just block his number.
He nearly cheers again when she follows it up with a: So how are you?
Yessss! Victory. Good, broke my streak though. Was up to 10 games.
Her response is a little late in coming. Well that sucks, but at least ten’s a good number.
It’s so much like what his mother would say that he feels worse. He needs to change the subject right now.
So what are you wearing? he sends to her after a second’s deliberation. She replies only a few moments later.
I’m in lab, maniac! What do you think I’m wearing?
A sexy lab coat? You’re supposed to make something up! Nobody is like ‘baby I’m in my sweatpants.’
there are rules now?
Patrick grins and texts, Yes, and I am naked right now btw.
You are not!
You’re right, I’m not. I’m sitting next to Duncs. He wouldn’t be into it.
What are you even trying to do rn, Patrick Kane? she sends back.
Flirt? he punches out. When she doesn’t respond right away, he follows it up with: You’re blushing right now aren’t you? I bet you are.
Lol quit it. I don’t have time to flirt with you in lab.
He grins. Well that doesn’t sound like she’s wholly opposed to the idea at all.
That’s alright. I’m almost at the airport, he replies, and then after a moment’s hesitation, sends, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the sounds you make when you come.
He tosses his phone in his bag so that he doesn’t wind up staring at it, waiting for the text to come in.
-
That text shouldn’t have made her heart pound harder. It shouldn’t have made her cheeks so red her lab partner asked if she was doing alright. She hadn’t known what to send back—sexting was not a thing she did. She’d wound up making some awkward joking mention of his plans for his shower bench, which had him texting back about how all his plans were genius, and it devolved from there. She keeps texting him over the next couple of days, walking out of classes and looking to her phone to see if he’s replied. He must get bored on the road a lot, because he rarely leaves her hanging.
None of that should make her consider seeing him again when she’s got personal statements to write for med school and midterms crowding her schedule. But when he gets back into town and asks if they can hang, she hesitates for only a moment before sending back: when?
He replies immediately with now, my place and a smiley face. It’s 9 PM on a Tuesday. She doesn’t have time for this–she was going to finish up a paper here in the library and then head back to her dorm to complete her course readings.
“What’s that look on your face?” Jess asks, looking at Jonny over the top of her Sony Vaio when she catches Jonny staring at her phone.
Jonny bites her lip, flipping her phone shut. “Patrick asked to meet up.”
“Patrick? Big dick guy?” Jess says, perking up. She shuts her laptop with a click. “Well? Are you going to go?”
Jonny shrugs her shoulders. “I have so much to do.”
Jess raises her brows. “When is that paper due?”
“Next Monday.”
“So,” Jess replies, drawing out the syllable. “You have nearly a whole week.”
“Yeah, but I’d like to be a little further along. Also, I try to be two classes ahead on my reading, and I’m only one ahead now.”
“You’re a crazy person, JT,” Jess replies. “He’s hot, right? I mean I assume so because your face keeps doing this thing whenever you look at your phone.”
“What? What thing!” Jonny replies, horrified.
“You get all moony,” Jess cracks up. “I mean, I assume you wouldn’t do that for some fuggo, but then…Dan.”
“Dan isn’t ugly!” Jonny protests.
“He’s fine! He’s a perfectly normal looking dude,” Jess says quickly, laughing. “But big dick guy—please tell me he’s hot.”
Jonny blushes, covering her face. “Yes, yes he’s hot.” He’s nice too, but it feels weird to point that out, like she’s looking for boyfriend material already even though she definitely isn’t.
“And you’re telling me you’d rather go back to your room and read than hang out with him?” she gives Jonny a pointed look.
“Oh my god, fine. I’ll go. I’ll go,” Jonny says, throwing up her hands.
“That’s my girl!” Jess replies with a smile as Jonny starts packing up her stuff.
Patrick’s doorman waves her up when she arrives, a knowing look and a smirk on his face, but at least he has the courtesy to drop his eyes when Jonny stares back. She doesn’t care how many chicks get ushered up these stairs to see Patrick Kane. There’s no reason to act like she’s some midnight escort.
Patrick answers the door right away, shirtless, sweats slung low on his hips, towel-drying his hair. Jonny means to say hello, but the words get stuck in her throat, eyes caught on the v of his sexlines disappearing into his waistband. Well, at least her mind wasn’t being overly generous with these details.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” she replies, dragging her eyes back up to his face and finding him smirking around the gum in his mouth.
He pops it and gives her a pointed look, before gesturing her inside. “Do you mind if I get takeout?” he says over his shoulder as he heads to his living room. “I’m starving.”
Jonny hesitates. She’s already had dinner, but between all of her dance classes and the compulsive five miles she ran to stop herself from freaking out about encroaching deadlines, a few more calories wouldn’t be amiss.
“Thai okay?” she asks. It’s pretty much the only thing that works with her restricted diet.
“Thai? Yeah, that’s fine.” He smiles at her. “Lemme just go get dressed.”
_
It takes twenty minutes for the food to arrive. He kinda wouldn’t mind going for it right then. He’s pretty sure he can get her to come under five, but Jonny asks him about how he’s been, and he finds himself whining about his subpar play and feeling like he’s contributing jackshit out there. He sets the bag on the kitchen counter and then moves to set the dining room table.
He catches her staring when he’s dishing the pad siu and cashew chicken curry out of their containers onto plates with serving spoons. “What? My moms raised me right.”
“You gonna light some candles?” she teases, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Put on some smooth jazz?”
“Candles? I don’t need candles,” he replies, bringing the food over. “I set a mood all on my own.”
She snorts and and takes a forkful of noodles, twirling them delicately before bringing them to her mouth. How fucking gone is he that he finds even the way she eats sexy? Tucking into his own food, he has the hilarious thought that they’re storing up calories for the night ahead of them. If it’s anything like last time, they’ll need it. Patrick has plans anyway. It’s only 9:30, once they finish the food, if they go in for three hours of sex that’ll put them at 1 AM—an acceptable time to take a rest, Patrick thinks.
“What are you thinking about?” Jonny asks.
Patrick gives her a pointed look, eyes dipping down over her body. “What do you think I’m thinking about?”
She feigns ignorance. “The weather? Bowling? Puppies?”
Patrick nods his head. “I’m glad you brought this up. I do have many thoughts about bowling. I’m writing a bowling treatise actually.”
Jonny smiles and it like a kick to Patrick’s gut. He wishes she did that more. She says, “A treatise? Big word, 88.”
“Like I said, my moms raised me right.”
Jonny sweeps her eyes over his apartment and then looks back at him. “So where did it all go wrong?”
Patrick waves his fork at her. “Are you casting shade on my place?”
Jonny widens her eyes. “With the lovely rug in your bedroom that’s got your number on it? I would never.”
“This apartment is balling. I don’t want to know what kind of boring house you’d have.” He looks over her outfit—the t-shirt and jeans she’s wearing and the jacket she ditched over the arm of his couch are all one color. “Everything would be black wouldn’t it?”
“Black is classy!”
“Boooooring,” he drawls back, before stabbing a piece of crab rangoon with his fork and popping it into his mouth whole.
“Should you be eating this fried food?” Jonny asks him suspiciously.
“I’m a growing boy!” he protests.
“Okay, fatty,” she replies, pointedly ignoring the rest of the crab rangoon to take more noodles. “You let me know how it goes hauling your ass around the ice.”
“Harsh,” he says with a laugh, but as soon as he starts thinking about it, it’s easy to go down that road. Obviously he knows his current scoring woes aren’t due to his consumption of deep fried goodness, but the frustration he feels over his lackluster production is never far from the back of his mind. He should be doing better than this. The team has certain expectations of him, especially after the whole cabbie incident in the summer. He certainly doesn’t want to get his ass traded.
Her chair scrapes back from the table while he’s thinking about it, and when he looks up at her, she slides into his lap.
“What is it?” she asks as she wraps her arms around his shoulders. “You get in more fights you needed girls to finish for you?”
“No, no, shut up,” he says with a laugh, letting her settle in with his hands going to his hips. After a moment he says, “I should be better than this.”
“You’re taking waaaaaay too much onto yourself here,” she replies, looping her finger under the chain of the 88 pendant and tugging lightly.
She tilts his jaw and draws him into a kiss before he can protest.
_
Moping is not a good look for him, but he’s hard between her thighs. God that’s gratifying. It’s good to know he’s as easy for it as she is. “Where’s the condom?” she asks, because she just knows he’s got one on his person. She leans back and draws her shirt off as incentive.
He stares at her, eyes wide. “You planning to ride me right here?”
“Why not?” she asks, tilting herself back to undo her jeans. This was perhaps not the best thought out plan. If she’d had any forethought she would’ve worn a skirt. As it is, she has to stand up to kick her jeans off.
“Oh look,” he says dragging his knuckles over her abdomen along the waist of her underwear, “your bra and panties are black. Who ever would’ve guessed.”
She huffs and knocks his hand away.
She’s not soft like most other girls. She still has almost all of her ab and arm definition from when she still played hockey and he’s noticing it. She’d picked up more dance classes and started yoga when she had to stop, and then sophomore year she’d started aerial silks with Jess after they’d gotten a groupon deal. Jess had quit after the one class, but Jonny had stayed on. Jess has at times referred to her as an exercise-anorexic, which isn’t true, because even if Jonny’s diet is restricted she still eats about 3000 calories a day. She just doesn’t know of any better way to calm down when she’s stressed than to go running. Well, sex, maybe. She’d forgotten just about everything currently wrong in her life when she and Patrick had fucked a week ago.
“You look hot,” Patrick says, staring up at her, like he knows just what’s going through her head. “Strong.”
She settles back into his lap, tangling her fingers into his hair to kiss him again. It’s unfair how good he is with his mouth. She could probably spend a decent hour just kissing him, brushing their lips together, breathing him in. She could do that—or she could ride the dick that’s becoming increasingly insistent against her ass, firm in a way that feels good when she shifts on him.
“Condom?” she reiterates.
He belts an arm around her waist so that he doesn’t dump her onto the floor while he reaches into his jean pocket to pull out his wallet. He thumbs a condom free of his billfold with a practiced flick that makes her laugh. He still looks like he doesn’t quite believe she’s going to go through with it until she’s got his jeans open, rolled the rubber down, and pulled her panties aside. It takes a moment, positioning him, fat flared head glancing over the opening to her cunt.
“God, I’m glad I know you,” he breathes when she takes a deep breath and starts to slowly sink down on him. She’s not as wet or as worked up as she was last time, and she’s reminded again of how much lube she’s been using with that stupid sex toy. Patrick helps her out with supportive hands under her thighs, drawing her in tight against his chest. There’s no way to miss the tension in his arms though. It mimics the taut expression on his face, like it’s taking everything he has not to fuck his hips up, get himself in deeper.
“You haven’t made up with dipstick have you?” he asks breathlessly when she rocks back and forth, working more of him inside her. “I mean, not that I would be able to tell with you being virgin tight.”
“Leave Dan alone,” she breathes.
He chuckles as he drops his head back against the back of the chair, slumping down when she gets a palm braced behind her on his knee, steadying herself as she starts to raise herself back up again. She hasn’t done this in a chair before. Patrick twitches when she hovers with just the very tip inside her. She could probably come just like this, she thinks, get her fingers on her clit, and just keep him there, cockhead snug against her g-spot, but she also likes the idea of him so thick inside her, in deep.
It takes a bit to get a good rhythm going, undulating her hips slow and fluid. His cock is a surprise every damn time, and she has to stop herself from taking him in too far, moving it from the good fullness to a panicky uncomfortably stuffed sensation. When she focuses on the steady in and out of his breathing it sounds like he’s pacing himself through a set of reps, and she has to bite her lips around a smile.
“Doing okay there?” she asks, slowing down even further.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat, watching her through slitted eyes, and says, “You’re killing me.”
Jonny huffs out a breath. It’s work doing this, when she looks down at her own chest, it’s red and blotchy from exertion, sweat standing out on her skin. She’s still got her death grip on his knee, and she can feel the muscle in his thigh practically vibrating from long-held restraint.
“Okay, Kane, the floor is yours,” she says. “Just, go easy alright?”
“Yeah?” he asks, voice like gravel.
Jonny just nods and it’s like flipping a switch. Suddenly he’s bursting into motion. Gone is the guy who placidly let her do whatever she wanted. She was expecting him to use his hands to bounce her up and down on his cock, what she does not expect is the way he gets his palms splayed on her ass and lifts her up off the floor like she weighs nothing, keeping his cock inside her as he lays her out on a free space on his dining room table. The plates of his Thai food knock against her elbow. She can’t help her sudden surprised squeal and he laughs, pleased, curving himself over her to kiss her.
“Get your knees up,” he says, tugging her legs up, the motion thrusting him further inside her in a way that makes her wince, that panicky feeling returning. At this angle it wouldn’t be hard for him to painfully pound her into the table, but then she realizes he’s got her knees and shins against his chest, so she can push away from him if it’s too much. She does it experimentally, flexing her calves like she’s doing a shin lift, watching his face. His expression is drawn like holding back is causing him pain, but he shifts back easily. She relaxes her legs.
“Okay?” he asks.
She finds it hard to look at his face right then, his intensity and consideration suddenly overwhelming. She doesn’t mean to think about it, but it comes up unbidden. She’s not sure Dan was ever that thoughtful and it’s making her eyes prickle. She blinks rapidly, fighting herself back under control.
He pulls out and she makes a noise of protest, wondering if he’s noticed that her eyes are getting watery, but he’s just drawing back to tug the panties she’s still wearing all the way off. As soon as he’s back, he gets his hand on her, fingers dipping into her slick folds, easing his cock back in, before playing over her clit. It’s a little scary to think about how much sex he must have had to get so good at this. When he starts moving it’s barely faster than the way she was pacing herself, but as she relaxes her legs further, letting him in deeper, he starts to speed up.
“Oh fuck,” he says eloquently, shining hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. Shivering hard, sensation rocketing through her, she thinks, yeah, that sounds about right.
_
Jonny looks gorgeous under him like this, neck arched back, her hands gripping edge of the the table white knuckled as he rubs circles over her clit and fucks her at the same time. She’s gone taut and tense beneath him, practically jolting off the table every time he pushes inside. He can see the point of no return in the distance. It’s getting hard to keep a rhythm. When she starts squeezing her cunt tight around him when he thrusts in he doesn’t think she even knows she’s doing it. It’s so intense—like every part of him has been distilled down to this moment, getting his dick in as far as she can take him. His palm slips sweaty on the wood of the table and he has to bring his other hand down to stop from falling right over.
He’s lost control a little, hips jerking in hard. He waits for her to tell him it’s too much, but she unfolds one of her long legs, throwing it over his shoulder, before hooking the other around his waist, pulling him in closer. At this angle, sunk all the way inside her, his pelvis must be grinding into her clit, because she makes a strangled noise, hips hitching up, keeping him in deep with the grip of her thighs.
“Holy god,” she says, snaking her hand between them, rubbing her clit, fingers catching on his shaft. “Stay there, just…stay.”
Patrick blinks sweat from his eyes. Letting her work herself off on him drags an involuntary whine out of his throat. God he can do better than this ordinarily—not today apparently. He’s been about ready to pop off since she first climbed aboard. Before he really knows what’s happening, she starts gasping and her back comes fully up off the table. Her elbow flies out and knocks the bottle of wine they were drinking over. It rushes out of the bottle, spreading in a big puddle across the surface and onto the floor. She made herself come right there on his cock.
He’s trying to stay still. To wait her out. But he’s reached his limit. “Baby, I’m sorry, I gotta move,” he gasps out.
Jonny lets out a soft ‘mmm’ and then somehow manages to splay her thighs wider, letting him in. It doesn’t take much. Just a few more thrusts and he’s bending down over her, groaning into her throat.
They stay there, limbs tangled, breathing hard for a little while.
“Wow,” she says in a softly reverent voice, and Patrick thinks getting to hear that may very well be better than coming.
“Question,” she says after a moment.
“Hmm?” he replies, vertebrae in his spine popping satisfactorily as he straightens up. Who needs a physical therapist when you can just have sex?
“Have you ever actually had sex with a virgin?” she looks down at his dick like the idea honestly frightens her.
Patrick laughs, startled. The first time he had sex it was with a teammate’s older sister when he was still in juniors. She said she wasn’t a virgin, but in retrospect, he thinks she probably was. Patrick hadn’t known anything back then. The condom snapped after about two minutes. He’d pulled out in a hurry and was too freaked out to put it back in even though he’d bought an entire box. Neither of them got anything out of it, and Patrick didn’t tell anybody besides Blake, who’d laughed himself sick, proving very clearly it wasn’t a story to brag about.
He finds himself telling her all this as he pulls out, holding onto the thankfully unsnapped condom.
“So to answer your question,” he says, as he ties it off, “situation unclear?”
Jonny sits up with a groan and then notices the wine spilled out over the table and dripping steadily onto the cream carpet.
“Oh my god! Did I—?”
“Yup,” Patrick replies proudly as he hauls his pants back up, moving to the kitchen to toss the condom and wash his hands.
“Patrick! We have to clean it up! Your carpet.”
“Eh,” he says, waving his hand. When he gets back to the table, he throws a couple of wads of paper towel down on top of it, pushing them around to sop up the mess, before reaching over and picking up his fork to stab it into a piece of chicken. “It’s fine. I’ll get it cleaned.”
Jonny smacks him on the shoulder, says, “Brat!” before picking up her panties and pulling them back on, and then going to the kitchen and getting his table salt. He has no idea what she wants with that, but it must be some kind of trick for getting the wine out of his carpet, because she pours it on top of the stain and then starts scrubbing at it with more of the paper towels. “Useless,” she says darkly, looking up at him with narrowed eyes.
“See here, I’m a growing boy,” Patrick replies, still eating. “You interrupted me in the middle of my dinner!”
“What you are is a momma’s boy who clearly never had any chores as a kid!” she mutters, but she sounds more amused than annoyed. For his part, he’s enjoying watching her tits bounce as she scrubs at the floor.
“You’re so ready to think ill of me! I’ll have you know that one time, like, back in 1999 I helped take out the garbage! It was quite an experience,” he says, polishing off the the last of the noodles on his plate and setting his fork down.
She looks up at him, mouth open, clearly unsure whether to believe him.
Patrick bursts out laughing. “I kid! Garbage was totally my chore growing up. And that shit was no joke. You have no idea how much trash three sisters can generate. All the makeup and hair products.” He shudders and doesn’t mention what it was like when they all started their periods. He’s man enough to admit that dealing with that detritus horrified him. Thank the sweet lord he was away most of the year.
After a while, Jonny gives up on the bright red stain, and scoops up the handful of towels. She swears, startled when she passes by him and he tugs her into his lap.
“Quit manhandling me, you lunatic,” she says, even as she winds her arms around his shoulders. He presses a kiss to her throat and nudges their foreheads together. “Don’t tell me you’re ready to go again,” she whispers.
“Nah,” he says, even as he lovingly gropes a handful of her ass. “Wanna watch a movie?”
-
"Are we dating?" she asks, the words bursting past her lips before she can stop it. She's immediately mortified. She's got so much on her plate, between apps and classes, and they've only hooked up twice. He could have practically anybody. God she's never felt so stupid in her life. She couldn't even say what came over her, no part of her woke up this morning thinking she'd be here, but now...
He looks up at her, blue eyes open, a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "Are you gonna dump dipstick?"
"He's not that bad," she replies, rolling her eyes, unsure why she's even defending him.
"He sucks, Jonny," Patrick replies firmly. "You deserve better."
Jonny finds herself smiling. "I guess that leaves you out, man who leaves wine on floor."
"I pay people for these things," he protests. She shakes her head. God he's too much.
"Are you?" he asks again.
"Is that a note of insecurity I detect?" she teases.
Patrick doesn't rise to the bait. "I'd like to date you, but not with if you can't decide between me and that loser, I'm serious."
She leans her elbows on his shoulders. "Haven't been doing your regular facebook stalking, eh?"
"What?" he blinks at her.
"Dan and I are done," she says. "Facebook official."
"What'd he do?" Patrick asks, looking bowled over.
"Nothing," she replies. "I'm not a see other people kinda gal. Took me a little too long to figure out."
"But you are seeing other people," Patrick points out, light catching on his criminally long lashes. God he's stupid pretty, she can't help noting. "I'm one."
"Not other, just you," she says, hesitating a little. He's famous and he has so many opportunities, and even though she fully believes he's a stand up guy, that has no bearing on weather he wants to commit to dating just one person, which she's asking for, albeit obliquely, and she didn't even know she wanted that until he pulled her into his lap and asked to watch a movie. It just suddenly seemed stupid to resist any longer. Because she likes him, a lot, too much even. She clears her throat. "Been that way since you picked a fight with Steve."
He stares at her for a long moment while she holds her breath.
"Same," he says at long last, brushing his nose along her cheek. Unexpected elation explodes in her chest. Thank fuck she's not alone in this. He pulls back and looks up at her wonderingly. "I've never had a girlfriend before."
She laughs. "Dating to girlfriend is a big leap. That's serious..." she trails off, heart pounding hard in her chest. Going from dating to nominal commitment in the span of a few sentences. She really, really didn't expect to be here this morning. But it feels right. God it feels right.
"Don't front, Toews," he tells her with a grin. "You wanna be my girl."
"I dunno," she jokes, "what movie did you want to watch?"
"You pick," he tells her.
"Atta boy."