If You Hate Me (The Toronto Terror Series)
If You Hate Me: Chapter 10

“Your brother is an amazing player,” Hammer says.

“In every sense of the word,” I reply.

She snorts and taps her plastic wineglass against mine. It’s the first home exhibition game of the season, and Flip is on fire. He’s already managed an assist and a goal, and we’re only halfway through the first period.

“He’s been keeping a lower profile,” Hemi adds. She leans forward, following the puck down the ice.

We’re sitting in the team box at center ice. The view from here is amazing. So are the free drinks and food.

“He’s relying on his little black book of regulars.” I toss a piece of popcorn into my mouth.

“Ah, that makes sense.” She sips her cocktail.

Tristan is on the bench. He’s tense tonight. Last night Flip stayed home, so I couldn’t offer any pregame stress relief. For either of us. I don’t believe that’s the reason Tristan is struggling on the ice tonight, though. Access to my vagina doesn’t dictate how he plays his game.

“Your brother is kind of a dirtbag,” Hammer says. “It’s too bad, because he’s a kickass player, and he’s ridiculously hot.”

“He really is nice to look at.” Tallulah, the coach’s daughter, otherwise known as Tally, agrees.

“Yeah. And he knows it. It’s irritating. Especially when he brings home his flavor of the night and she’s a screamer.”

Tally wrinkles her nose. “That’s awkward.”

“Sure is,” I agree. But I never say anything because I don’t want to be more of an imposition than I already am.

“Dallas is pretty yummy, and not a huge player,” Hammer says.

“One hundred percent agree. He’s a solid nine out of ten,” I reply.

“Did you see him ballroom dancing with little old ladies? That was heart-melting.” Tally presses her hand to her chest. “That makes him a ten for me.”

“He only did that because I made him,” Hemi grumbles.

“What’s the deal with you two?” I ask.

“There is no deal. He’s a dick. I can’t stand him, and it’s my life’s mission to make him miserable as often as possible. Oh, nice save!” She whistles shrilly as the arena goes wild. “Hammerstein is definitely a hottie.”

“Oh, yeah. Totally,” Tally says.

I arch a brow. “Agree.”

“For an older guy,” she tacks on. She’s still seventeen.

“Ew. That’s my dad.” Hammer wrinkles her nose.

Hollis takes a shot on net but it goes wide. Flip gains control in the crease and passes it to the left wing.

“Hollis has that tall, dark, and badass vibe going on,” I comment.

“I’m a little scared of him,” Tally admits. “But yeah, he’s hot.”

“And he has two cats. Men who love animals are automatically attractive,” Hemi says.

Hollis rotates off the ice, and Tristan rotates in. “Tristan is so hot it should be illegal.” Hammer’s gaze follows him down the ice.

“He’s an asshole.” Who’s very adept at providing multiple orgasms. And sometimes he’s sweet at the most unexpected times. Like two days ago when he went to the store and brought back a pint of ice cream to replace the one he ate.

“A hot asshole,” Tally adds.

“And he knows it.” Hemi cringes when he misses a shot on net and the opposition gains control of the puck. “He’s really off his game tonight.”

“I think he’s psyching himself out,” I muse.

“How do you mean?” Hemi asks.

“He’s stressed about Hollis being back this season. Obviously, he’s glad he recovered from the injury, but last season he had a lot of ice time. With Hollis back, he’s worried about his stats. Plus, his contract is up for renewal at the end of the season. He’s up in his head about it.”

He’s been taking out all that stress and frustration on my vagina the past few days, since we made our sex pact. Not that I’ve minded. He’s been less of a dick lately, and it’s been nice.

“For someone who can’t stand Tristan, you sure know a lot about his emotional state.” Hemi side-eyes me.

“I live with him, in a loft with no walls or door. It’s hard not to overhear conversations.” Plus, I’ve become the resident meal prepper since I moved in, so I’m always around when Flip and Tristan are talking game strategy.

“Right, yeah.” Hemi nods. “How’s the apartment hunting?”

“Okay. I’m hoping I’ll replace something for October first. I got a signing bonus. It’s not much, but it’s enough if I replace the right place.”

So far every time I think I’ve found a place, Tristan will mention the shitty neighborhood. But it would be nice not to worry about falling in the toilet in the middle of the night. A room with a door would also be lovely.

“I might be looking for an apartment soon,” Hammer says.

“Your dad’s pretty cool, though, isn’t he?” Hemi asks.

“He is, but I was living off-campus in an apartment before. Interning for his team and living with him is an adjustment. I don’t think it’s the best long-term plan.”

“I can’t wait to move out,” Tally says. “I love my parents, but they’re totally trying to get me to live at home for university. Isn’t half the point figuring out how to survive on ramen and French fries?”

“That’s accurate. Where have you applied?” I ask.

“Mostly in Toronto, which I guess is kind of shooting myself in the live-away-from-home foot. I’m not sure about residence, but an apartment off-campus would be good. I’m making a pros-and-cons presentation so I can argue my case effectively.”

“Let us know if you want help with that,” I offer.

“Seriously?” Tally’s eyes light up. She’s freaking adorable. If I had a younger sister, I’d want her to be exactly like Tally.

“Yeah. For sure. Let’s plan a get-together at my place later this week,” Hemi offers. “We can help you go over it.”

“Okay. Thanks!”

I love that I have this new group of unlikely friends. I wonder if that will change when I move into my own place. I’ve been eating lunch with some of my colleagues at work, but the two women closest to my age have long-term boyfriends. One takes the train in from Ajax, and the other lives with her boyfriend, so I don’t know how much hanging out we’ll do outside of work.

Hollis scores in the second period, and Flip scores again in the third. Tristan gets two back-to-back penalties, one for tripping and the other for interference. He freaks out on the refs and throws himself into the box, clearly unhappy.

I have to be up early for work, so I skip drinks with the girls after the game and hop on the subway home.

I have a new text from Rob.

ROB

Hey! Left a VM a few days ago but didn’t hear back. Hope all is good. Would like to talk when you have a chance.

It was sent during the game. It’s been days since he left the voicemail, which I forgot to listen to.

RIX

Sry. Been busy. On the way home from the game. What’s up?

This is a good distraction from thinking about what bar the team will end up at tonight.

The humping dots appear and disappear a few times before a message finally comes through.

ROB

So…I started seeing someone. It’s pretty new, but I figured it’d be better to tell you than you seeing it on my socials.

I want to send him a bunch of middle fingers in response. He was the one sending I-miss-you messages a couple of weeks ago. He was the one who broke up with me. My heart wasn’t completely obliterated, but it sure stung. Tristan might be a dick, but at least I know what I’m getting with him.

I send a thumbs-up in reply and then silence his message alerts, because fuck that and fuck him.

By the time I get home, the pit in my stomach feels like a giant crater. My sex pact with Tristan did not include exclusivity. So it’s very possible he’ll hook up with someone else tonight. Nausea rolls through me at the prospect that he might bring someone back here. Yeah. I need my own place. The orgasms are great, but I can’t handle the humiliation of having to listen to him fuck another woman in the bedroom under me.

I stress-chop vegetables for tomorrow so I can make omelets for breakfast and scan the want ads for apartments. I circle two potential places while I try to reassure myself that I’ll be fine if Tristan brings someone home. We’re just having sex. I’m a big girl. Besides, I don’t even like him. He’s a means to an orgasm.

Tristan walks through the door as I finish putting everything away. He’s alone. Tension melts from my body so quickly I worry I’ll leave a puddle on the floor. Which is bad. So, so bad. Maybe I don’t not-like him as much as I thought.

“Hey.” I wipe my damp hands on my jeans. I should have changed into bed wear. Or something sexy. Anything other than the jeans-and-shirt combo I’m currently sporting that now has wet spots on it.

As soon as he sees me, his jaw clenches. “I’m not in the mood.”

All the relief I felt a second ago goes right out the window, along with my bruised, deflated ego. I can’t handle asshole Tristan tonight.

“Neither am I.”

He brushes by me, heading for the fridge. He yanks it open and pulls out the freshly squeezed orange juice. He spins around, angry. “I don’t need to deal with your shit tonight, Beat.”

“You’re the one biting my head off, not the other way around,” I snap.

“Biting your head off? What are you doing down here? Why aren’t you in bed?” He tips his head. “Were you waiting for me to come home?”

I bite my lips together. The answer is sort of yes. But I won’t admit it. Not when he’s being like this. Instead of incriminating myself, I head for the bathroom. It’s the only room I can escape to for privacy. And I could use a shower.

“Dick.” I shut the door and turn on the hot water.

My frustration mounts as I strip out of my clothes. I put on some music and step under the hot spray. I’ve finished washing my hair when there’s a knock on the door.

“If you need to pee, you have a kitchen sink and a balcony!” I say.

The door opens. Because I forgot to lock it.

“Don’t you dare pee in here while I’m in the shower!” I shout. “Or flush!”

The shower door opens a few inches. Tristan’s eyeball appears.

“Fuck you!” I try to close the door on him, but he’s stronger by a lot. I bar an arm across my chest to hide my nipples. “You don’t get to invite yourself in here after you shit all over me.”

“I’m sorry. I had a really bad game. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Flip wanted me to come out. And it’s fucking with me because I’m lying to him.” He takes a deep breath.

“Then we stop doing this and tell him,” I counter. “But if he knows, there’s no way he’ll be okay with it. So figure yourself out, Tristan.”

His exhale feels like every piece of his bad mood leaving his body. “But I don’t want to stop.”

His conflict is real, and I get it, but it doesn’t excuse his behavior. “You were a dick. I did nothing to deserve that. I’m tired of this bullshit. I’m not fourteen hoping you’ll look my way again.”

“I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He bites his bottom lip and has the gall to look boyishly handsome and contrite. “Can I make it up to you?”

I glare at him.

“Please, Bea? I mean it. I’m sorry.”

I sigh and step back.

He strips out of his clothes and steps into the shower. He’s already hard. “Will you let me make it better?” He moves to stand behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. The affection is unexpected. He drops his head and nuzzles my neck. “You know I’ll make you feel good, Bea.”

“What about Flip?” I tip my head back, and he bites the edge of my jaw.

“He went to the bar. He won’t be home for a while.” His erection presses into the small of my back. “How could I ever stay away when I know your sweet, tight pussy is right here, waiting for me to fill it with my tongue, or fingers, or my massive cock?” He kisses down the side of my neck.

I snort. “Check your ego, Tristan.”

“But I make you feel good, don’t I? Make you come every single time.” He squeezes my breast and nips at my earlobe.

“Yeah, you make me feel good.” I rest my head on his chest. “When you’re not being mean.”

“I’ll be nice tonight, okay?” His fingers skate over the patch of curls at the apex of my thighs. He gives them a tug, then dips lower, rubbing a slow circle on my clit. I whimper and push my ass against his cock. “That’s one of my favorite sounds, little Bea.”

He spins me around and presses my back against the cold tiles, hands coming up to cup my face. He parts my lips with his tongue, the kiss desperate and needy. One hand stays on my cheek, and the other moves to grip my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple. Then he pinches the peak between his fingers.

He bites his way down my neck and sucks the flesh before claiming my mouth again. His hand moves between my thighs, and he pushes two fingers inside me, pumping slowly, his thumb brushing my clit. I let my head fall back, watching him through lidded eyes.

Steam billows around us, and his biceps flex as he works another finger inside me.

“Do you like it when I finger-fuck you, Bea?”

I moan and roll my hips.

“Tell me,” he murmurs against my lips, thumb sweeping back and forth along the edge of my jaw. “I want to hear you say it.” There’s something in his tone, a hint of vulnerability fused with desperation.

I don’t understand where it’s coming from or what it means, but I want to come, so I tell him what he wants to hear. It’s also the truth. “It feels so good,” I whimper.

“What does?” He nibbles my bottom lip.

“Your fingers inside me. I can’t get enough,” I tell him.

“What else can’t you get enough of?” He bites the edge of my jaw. “Tell me and I’ll make you come.”

“Your mouth on me. The way you tongue-fuck my pussy.”

He curls his fingers, hitting exactly the right spot. My eyes roll up. “Is that it?”

I shake my head.

“What else, then?” His thumb circles my clit.

“When you fuck me so hard I see stars.”

“I can’t get enough of that either,” he admits.

“And when you call me your sweet, filthy girl. I love that.”

He grins. “Yeah, you do.”

He crushes his mouth to mine and starts finger-fucking me in earnest. I move the hand that’s currently cupping my cheek to wrap around my throat. It’s definitely my new kink, because thirty seconds later I’m clawing at his shoulder, moaning my way through an intense orgasm.

He kisses me, soft and slow. “See?” He rubs his nose against mine. “I can be nice.”

I laugh and run my hands over his chest, then lace them behind his neck. My knees are weak, and my body is humming. “You were very nice.”

“Will you let me take you to bed and show you how nice I can be?”

I smile and nod.

“I might be a little dirty, though,” he warns. “But the nice kind of dirty.”

“I can handle that.”

“Good.”

Tristan turns off the water. He opens the shower door, hoists me up, and wraps my legs around his waist. His cock bobs against my ass, and he drips water all over the floor as he carries me to his bedroom.

Soft Tristan is exactly what I need tonight. I wish it could stay like this. But I’ll do my best to enjoy it while it lasts.