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But the second I think about him working my clit into his mouth again and sucking, I go off like fireworks. My hand clutches onto one of the taps as my orgasm hits me like a freaking earthquake, shattering me from the center of my core upwards, downwards, inwards, and outwards. It’s coming from all directions at once. It feels divine.
I murmur as quietly as I can as my body spirals, rocks, and shakes, taking me out of my body into some heavenly place that I can only describe as bliss.
The waves of insane pleasure roll on and on and on.
I don’t stop until my third. It feels so damn good, and while they just keep rolling on one after the other, I might as well milk it. When I’m spent, I turn the thing off and press both hands onto the tiles, trying to regain my composure as well as keeping myself upright.
An odd thought occurs to me… I want to just curl up next to his warm body and go to sleep and bask in his scent, until we do it again.
As soon as I flick my eyes open and I’m looking at the pale green of the bathroom tile, the magic spell seems to crumble quickly around me.
I realize swiftlywe’renot doing anything.
I pull the rosebud away from the apex of my thighs and wash it off under the warm spray and clean myself up.
It’s a stupid thought, my rational brain won’t hear anything else that leads me into a false sense of bliss over Taylor James.
That’s the end of it. I just needed to get it out of my system… maybe.
All that ridiculousness about still being in love with him… still wanting him… I suppose a girl can think anything when she’s in the throes of orgasm. The reality is that he hates me. As much as he might try to act like everything is okay, I know that it isn’t.
I know I need to keep my train of thought on the straight and narrow and not read too much into anything. If I expect nothing, then I can’t get hurt when he tells me he has a girlfriend or that he could never be interested in me again. Not that I would ask him that, but the bigger part of me wants to know…does he still love me?
Or could he love me again?
When I shut the water off, I realize I’m walking on dangerous grounds and I need to be neutral.
I’m going to stop my fantasies once and for all… or at the very least, put them on hold until I’m back in Florida. It’s the only sensible thing to do.
* * *
Taylor
She invited me for dinner…
I feel a mixture of things now I’ve had chance to think about it for a few moments. I mean, I’m kind of surprised she asked me, but I’m also freaking the fuck out.
Why would I even put myself through this?
I suppose it couldn’t hurt for us to share a meal and see where the road has taken us both in the last few years. Maybe she will or won’t want to hear about my travels in the NHL. But something inside me is interested in what she’s been up to.
I’m sure we can do that for an hour or two, and then part ways as friends. It doesn't have to be a thing.
It isn’t going to be a thing.
I keep telling myself this, but something inside me doesn’t want to listen.
I don’t fucking care, I’ll make it listen.
I hit the gym, pushing my wayward thoughts aside. Training is an inevitable part of being your best as an athlete on the ice, I always make sure nothing gets in the way of that.
I may be a little riled up when it comes to her, my body is certainly enthusiastic, but I can control my mind… and my mind is saying no.
I don’t know if it’s possible for me to think about her, or be around her, and not think about the past. But I need to fucking give it my best shot.
Coach yells at us to stop messing around and focus. And just to prove his point and ram it home, we spend the next two hours doing drills. The same fucking drills. Then we have a scrimmage, as he splits the team into two, using half the ice.
“Coach is driving us hard since we won against the Kings,” Ashton mumbles to me, part way having a break.
