Shutout: Rules of the Game Book 2
Shutout: Chapter 18

TYLER

There’s nothing hotter than watching Seraphina unravel beneath me.

I have no idea how I held it together while she came all over my cock, especially when it’s been a few months since I last had sex. Since we had sex, specifically, because I haven’t been with anyone else. Maybe all my mental training from hockey has paid off in other areas.

She rests her head on my shoulder, her rose-gold hair spilling in a curtain against my dark shirt. Somewhere along the way, I must’ve pulled out the bow holding her ponytail together. I have no idea when—or where it went.

Her chest heaves with a contented sigh as I rub her back, waiting for her to recover. She’s soft and warm in my arms, her wet pussy gripping me so tightly I could easily bust on the spot if I let myself. My cock twitches impatiently, but I know she’s overstimulated and needs a breather.

Another couple of seconds pass and Seraphina pulls herself upright, giving me an expectant look. Her rosy lips are kiss-swollen, her cheeks flushed, and her eyelids are heavy with pleasure.

She inches forward slightly, bringing her lips to mine. “Keep going. Fuck me.”

I love how unabashed she is. It’s one of my favorite things about her.

“I have a better idea.” Reaching beneath her bare thighs, I lift her off the table without disconnecting our bodies. She holds onto me as I shuffle a few steps backward and lower to sit in a nearby chair so she’s straddling me.

Her chocolate eyes flash with understanding, and her fingertips land on my jaw as she brings her mouth to mine. “Gonna make me do all the work now, Hades?”

“I’ve been picturing you riding my cock ever since that morning in my room.” I brush my lips against hers as my hands coast up her bare ribcage to cup her tits. They’re a perfect handful, supple and weighty in my palms. My fingers pinch her nipples through the lace of her bra, reveling in the way they harden beneath my touch. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about it ever since XS.”

Placing her hands on my shoulders, she rises onto her knees until we’re nearly separated. My body protests and my hips lift reflexively, driven by the primal urge to stay balls deep inside of her. Her mouth tugs into a coy smile as she pauses, driving me crazy with anticipation.

“You mean like this?” She sinks down, taking me fully, and it’s so good I swear I nearly black out.

“Fuck, yes.” The words are a tortured groan across my lips. “Just like that.”

This is like living out every fantasy I’ve ever had. I’ve been imagining her, dreaming about her, and jerking off to her for weeks, and the reality is even better. I’ve never been so hard in my life. Her little miniskirt takes the hotness of this whole equation to the next level.

Hiking up the plaid fabric covering her lower half, I look down at where our bodies are joined. My dick hardens even more at the sight of her wrapped around me, her folds pink and swollen and slick with her arousal.

“That’s it,” I husk, watching her glistening pussy slide up and down my cock. “Look how pretty you are taking all of me. Every single inch.”

That earns me a breathy moan because she likes being praised and I know it. She picks up speed, somehow taking me even deeper, and I bottom out inside of her, groaning her name. As much as I’d like to break our three-orgasm record, tonight isn’t going to be the night that happens.

Seraphina grinds against me again, swirling her hips. She feels like heaven, and I’m dangerously close to losing control. All I can hope for is making sure she gets there again first.

Bracketing her waist with my hands, I thrust up to meet her so the base of my cock gives her the friction she needs.

Her mouth falls open in a soft gasp. “It’s too good, Ty. I—ah, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. We both know you’ve got more than one in you.” Slipping one hand between our bodies, I tease her clit, slowly rubbing and circling while her body trembles, her pussy throbbing around my dick.

With a few more strokes of my fingers, her breath hitches.

“Oh.” She cries out, louder than we should be, but I can’t bring myself to care. “Oh, god.”

“Good girl.” Pleasure builds at the base of my spine. It’s a warning signal to slow down, but she’s too far gone for me to stop her. “Come on my cock.”

Her walls clench around me and squeeze so tightly, I can’t hold back. White-hot pleasure tears through me, and my hold on her waist tightens until I know I’ll leave marks on her skin later.

My mouth angles against hers, muffling her scream as we both fall apart. I come harder than I ever have before, pulsing and twitching inside of her, spilling into the condom while she kisses me frantically, her nails digging into my back. It’s frenzied and needy, desperate and wild, like hurtling toward some kind of oblivion.

Panting, she rides out every last wave until we’re both too spent to move.

“Wow.” She drapes herself over me, her heart thudding against my chest.

My arms wrap around her and pull her closer. “I’m ruined, Tink. Fucking ruined.”

A better person probably would harbor some degree of guilt for crossing a line. All I feel is a deep sense of primal satisfaction for having claimed her. All I want is to do it again.

Once we both come back to our senses, we reluctantly untangle ourselves and get re-dressed. Seraphina looks down and slips on her panties, pulling them up beneath her skirt while I kneel to pick up the items that fell out of her purse when it fell: a tube of lip gloss, a couple pens, a pink highlighter, her keychain, my black Falcons beanie, and her phone—luckily unscathed.

As I shove the items back into her bag, I catch sight of her black hair ribbon sitting underneath a chair, and I grab it. At least we won’t be leaving behind any evidence… other than the used condom in the garbage.

Passing Seraphina her purse, I lower my lips to hers for another brief kiss. And another. Being around other people without doing this is going to suck. Then again, I’m not sure what the hell “this” is.

I hold up her coat and help her slip into it. When she turns back to face me, my first instinct is to kiss her again. It’s hard not to. With something else swirling in the back of my mind, I have to broach that first.

“What are we doing, Tink?” Maybe it’s unfair of me to put her on the spot like this, but it’s a legitimate question when I have no idea myself.

Her forehead crinkles, and she pauses. “Why do we have to call it anything? Can’t we just have some fun and enjoy things for what they are? We can be friends who kiss… and do a little more than that sometimes. Which is nobody else’s business, for the record.”

“Yeah?” Relief winds through me. Lately, she’s the calm in the shitstorm otherwise known as my life. We have a good thing going, and I don’t want to ruin it.

“Yeah.” Pale pink fingernails trail down my chest, her soft lips replaceing my jaw.

I groan as my cock stiffens. “Easy, unless you’re angling for round two.”

Seraphina giggles. “Already?”

“I’m a twenty-one-year-old athlete, Ser, and you’re fucking gorgeous.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and when I pull it out to check the message, I notice the time. We’ve been in here longer than we should have been. It’s a miracle we didn’t get caught.

“We should get out of here before we land ourselves in trouble,” I add.

The moment we step outside, Seraphina opens her leather purse and fishes out my beanie, tugging it over her rose-gold waves. Instantly, I feel myself break into one of those dumbass grins only she can elicit.

“I hope you know I’m keeping this,” she says, smoothing her hair.

“I was hoping you would.”

One unintended benefit of ending my celibacy streak? I slept better than I have in months. Years, even. It was hard to drag myself out of bed.

A savory, smoky scent wafts through the air as I ascend the stairs, and my stomach growls in response. Through the doorway, I spot Dallas tending to a pan on the stove. Score. The only thing better than bacon is bacon you didn’t have to cook yourself, especially at seven in the morning.

“What are you doing up so early?” I step into the kitchen, craning my neck to gauge the status of the food.

“I have a dentist appointment downtown,” Dallas says. “Bacon should be ready in five.”

I grab a mug from the cupboard and fill it at the coffee maker as Seraphina darts into the room. Dallas’s back is turned, so I leverage the opportunity to let my gaze linger on her longer than I should, taking in her black cropped hoodie, skintight black workout leggings, and hot pink Nikes.

Knowing what she looks like beneath those clothes is a special kind of torture. Can’t afford to let my brain take a stroll down that particular memory lane while I’m wearing these sweats, though, or it’s gonna get real awkward between me and Dallas, real fast.

“Morning, Tink.”

“Hey.” She doesn’t glance in my direction, kneeling to rummage through the cupboard. The most likely explanation is that she’s distracted because she’s running late as usual. Still, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it than that.

Fuck. I’m overthinking again. Hard not to, given the situation. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is Seraphina riding my cock in that little skirt with her head tipped back, her face contorted with pleasure. Are we good after last night?

Questions continue to play through my head while I reach into the fridge to grab the carton of milk. Thinking better of it, I put it back and close the door with my hip. Fuck cereal, I’m going to mooch some of Dallas’s bacon.

Leaning against the counter, I steal a glance at Seraphina again. She pushes to stand with a frown, clutching an oversized pink travel tumbler like it’s her lifeline, and makes a beeline for the coffee maker to fill it. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but she seems more preoccupied than upset.

“Is this fresh coffee?” She brings it to her mouth and takes a sip, her brow creasing at the taste.

“Yeah,” Dallas offers over his shoulder. “I tossed the other batch. Tasted like ass.”

I bark a laugh because that’s such a Dallas thing to do. He’s particular about nearly everything, coffee included. Hell, he’s almost more high maintenance than Seraphina, and that’s saying something.

She’s less amused with this turn of events. In fact, she looks positively crestfallen—like a little kid whose ice cream fell on the pavement on a hot summer’s day. Then I realize why.

Decaf.

Guilt overtakes me and I bring a fist to my mouth, trying to pretend I was coughing. I hadn’t expected her to take the loss of her coffee quite that hard, and I don’t replace her being sad funny. In fact, I fucking hate it.

Her warm brown eyes flicker over to the clock on the wall, then back to the coffee maker, but she says nothing. Just heaves a quiet, disappointed sigh as she pours the contents of the mug into the sink. Judging by her outfit and the time, I’m fairly certain she’s due to be at her usual seven a.m. workout class in five minutes—and the fitness studio is fifteen minutes away.

“Uh, Ward?” I say delicately. “That was Seraphina’s decaf, just FYI.”

“Her what?” Dallas sets down the tongs, turning to face us. His eyes widen as he processes what I’d just said, and he winces. “Oh shit. Sorry, Sera. I can make you some more if you want. It just didn’t taste like it usually does so I thought someone fucked it up. And by someone, I mean Tyler.”

“To be clear, I make great coffee. It’s just too strong for your wimpy ass.”

“Thanks, but it’s okay.” She quickly rinses out the mug and dumps it in the sink. “I have to get going. I can hit the drive-through on my way to campus after the gym…” The waver in her voice tells me it’s anything but okay.

Tossing us a wave and a mumbled good-bye, she brushes past us on her way out of the kitchen, resolutely avoiding eye contact. My chest pulls tight as I watch her leave. Conflict wars within me, a bloody battle between my conscience and my mind. The urge to go after her is strong but I can’t tell whether she wants to talk—and I don’t want to make things worse if she doesn’t. More specifically, I don’t want to make it worse if I’m one of the things that’s upsetting her.

Dallas throws me a remorseful look before turning back to tend the sizzling bacon on the stove. “Now I feel like a dick.”

“It was an accident. Besides, I don’t think that was about coffee.”

“Dammit!” Sera’s voice carries into the kitchen from the foyer. The distress in her voice is like a knife to the gut.

Fueled by pure instinct, I’m halfway to her before I even realize it.

“What’s going on, Tink?” I ask, drawing closer. She’s got her puffy winter coat on, and her purse is slung over one shoulder, but she’s pacing in frantic circles, picking up random objects and looking beneath them. If she doesn’t want to talk, at least I can say I tried.

She sets down a pair of noise-canceling headphones someone left on the couch and throws her hands in the air. “I can’t replace my fucking keys!”

Okay, we’re in full-on meltdown mode. Noted.

“Where’d you last see them?” I ask. “I can help you look.”

“If I knew where they were last, I’d have them right now!” Pivoting on her heel, she bumps the glass lamp on the entry table with her padded elbow, sending it toppling off the console. Immediately, my hand shoots out and I catch it before it hits the ground. Goalie instincts have their uses.

I set the lamp back before coming to stand in front of her. “Breathe, Ser.” I keep my voice soft, my fingertips gently touching her arm through her coat.

Lifting her chin, she peers up at me, her chest heaving with ragged inhales and exhales. We stay that way for a couple more breaths, wordless. There’s something so raw, so vulnerable written across her face. It takes all the self-restraint I have not to reach up and cup her chin like I want to. With Dallas in the next room, I can’t risk it.

“You don’t understand! If I’m more than ten minutes late, they won’t let me into the class, and they’ll charge me a late cancellation fee and the roads are bad and—”

“Realistically, you’re not going to make it in time. That’s okay. Maybe this is the universe’s way of saying you need a rest day. We all do, once in a while.” The fee is something like ten bucks, and her family is loaded. This isn’t about the coffee or the money. This is a stress spiral because of everything she’s dealing with between the move and her mom.

Seraphina looks marginally less agitated, but that isn’t saying much. “I’m supposed to meet Abby there.”

“I’m sure if you text her and explain what happened, she’ll understand.”

She scrunches up her mouth, and she pauses, considering. I can see her softening, little by little. The panic in her eyes fades, leaving behind a resigned weariness. She looks tired, like she didn’t sleep much last night.

“My whole morning has been thrown off. I was going to shower at the gym.”

If there’s one thing I’ve noticed, it’s that she does not cope well with change, however minor it might be. Unfortunately, she’s been dealing with a lot of it.

“Why don’t you go shower while I make you some more coffee? I can cook some breakfast too, while I’m at it. We can look for your keys after that. Everything is easier on a full stomach, and they have to be around here somewhere.”

Seraphina heaves a sigh. “Okay…”

Reluctantly, she heads downstairs while I go into the kitchen. I drain the last of my mug and refill it before washing out the machine to make her decaf. Despite what I may have led her to believe to spare her feelings, I need caffeine like I need air.

Dallas frowns, sliding the cooked bacon onto a paper-towel covered plate to absorb the grease. “She okay?”

“Think so. She’s dealing with a lot.”

“No doubt. I’m sorry about their mom.” Pausing, he studies my face. The room turns oppressively silent. His pale blue eyes feel like laser beams aimed at mine, searching for any hint of a lie. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“What do you mean?” I deflect, playing dumb.

“You two seem awfully close.”

Bringing my cup of coffee to my lips, I take a sip to buy myself time before I answer. “We’re friends.”

“Tink doesn’t happen to be short for Tinker Bell, does it?”

Holy shit, did I call her Tink when Dallas was in the kitchen?

“No.”

He points at me with the spatula. “She’s the one you were texting with at our hotel when you were acting all goofy awhile ago, isn’t she?”

This keeps getting worse and worse.

I have no idea how to respond to that, so I drink my coffee instead.

“Dude.” He throws his head back and stares up at the ceiling like he’s pleading with the heavens, muttering a string of pleas and expletives beneath his breath. When he looks at me again, his expression is a combination of desperation and reproach.

“For the love of hockey and all that is holy.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Tell me you’re not fucking Carter’s sister.”

For the briefest second, I almost wish I could tell him the truth. Wish I could admit to someone, anyone, that I’m in over my head. That I can’t think straight when she’s around—and that she’s all I think about when she’s not.

“What do you want me to say here, Ward?” There’s a friendship hierarchy within the house, and Dallas is closer to Chase than he is to me. They’ve been friends for longer. I know that. He knows that. And we both know how Chase would take this.

Dallas groans and tugs at his dark hair. When he withdraws his hand, it stands straight on end. “For both of our sakes, this conversation never happened.”

After he eats, he clears out of the kitchen with a promise never to throw away coffee again and his grudging blessing to eat the leftover bacon. I cut up fruit, scramble eggs, and make toast while I wait for Seraphina. I’d make extra for Chase, but he’ll probably be asleep for a few more hours. On brand as ever, he pulled an all-nighter writing a paper at the last possible minute.

Seraphina appears in the doorway changed into a fuzzy white sweater and jeans, her hair still damp from the shower. It’s a darker shade of pink when it’s wet, a stark contrast against her fair skin. She looks beautiful. There’s something I like about getting to see her in these everyday moments. It feels special, somehow. Like a part of her most other people don’t get access to.

“Guess what I found?” She dangles the key fob from her fingers with a guilty look. “They were sitting on the bathroom counter downstairs. I feel so ridiculous.”

There’s a pang in my gut at her last words.

“Don’t, Ser. I’ve done the same thing before.”

She shrugs off my remark and averts her gaze. When she notices the food sitting on the counter, her eyes brighten. “Thank you for breakfast. I’ll return the favor sometime.”

“Careful or I might take you up on that.”

The energy in the room shifts from comfortable to almost unbearably tense. Her eyelids hood as she steps closer, coming to stand almost toe to toe with me. The sweet scent of her freshly applied perfume drifts over to me, mingled with her tropical-scented shampoo, and my cock perks up in anticipation.

“You could, you know.”

I fight a grin. “That would be a bad idea right now.” The reminder is for me as much as her. If I had my way, I’d be eating her for breakfast instead.

“Sometimes those are the best kind.”

We manage to pull apart before anything more inappropriate happens. My dick is more than a little angry with me at the lack of follow-through. I’ll be taking matters into my own hands the minute she leaves for class—and when I do, the scenario that just transpired is going to play out differently in my mind.

Channeling what little restraint I have left, I turn my thoughts to hockey and begin to mentally recount my stats from this season. Save percentage, goals against average, shutouts… I wait until Sera has plated her food before fixing my own, then join her at the table.

“I can’t believe I got that upset over coffee.” She scrunches up her mouth, pushing her scrambled eggs around with her fork. “How embarrassing. It’s just—you know when you’re really, really looking forward to something and then you don’t get it?”

Part of me knows.

“That’s okay, Ser. I understand, and you shouldn’t be embarrassed. Everyone has those mornings once in a while.”

Her hand wraps around her mug. “My morning cup of coffee is one of my favorite things, and if that goes off the rails, so does the rest of the day.”

“Are you sure this isn’t about something else?” I ask gently.

Seraphina huffs and picks up her toast, looking away. “It probably is. Take your pick. Switching schools, dead father, sick mother, brother dealing with his own issues, undeclared major and zero direction in life…” her voice wobbles as she trails off, and my stomach sinks.

Without thinking, I cover her hand with my palm. “Tink.”

“It’s fine. Probably just PMS. Maybe I need to go stuff my face with chocolate and cry in my room.”

Hard for me to argue with that. I know precisely zero about female hormones.

“Not to dismiss that hypothesis but you do have a lot on your plate. I get being stressed, and those feelings are totally valid. Please don’t be hard on yourself, though. You don’t have zero direction in life.”

Even though I don’t want to, I remove my hand from hers. My entire body protests at the loss of contact. Instead, I grab my coffee to stop myself from reaching for her again and take a sip.

She spears a piece of pineapple and points at me with her fork. “How do I not? I have no idea what I want to do.”

“Lots of people don’t. Your perspective is probably skewed because you grew up around a bunch of hockey lifers. On average, people change jobs something like seven times in their lifetime. It’s okay not to know and even once you pick something, it’s okay to change your mind about that too.”

“I guess,” she says quietly. “I just feel lost sometimes,”

“So do I.” It’s the first time I’ve ever admitted this out loud.

“What do you mean? You’ve already been drafted.” Seraphina sets down her fork, tilting her head.

The muscles in my jaw tighten. “New York is looking at picking up another goalie prospect.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, Ty.” She frowns, and this time she’s the one who covers my hand.

“Could end up being nothing. Or it could end up derailing the way I thought my whole career would play out. Either way, I know where I want to go, but it feels like it’s completely out of my hands sometimes.” Words I’ve held inside for the better part of my college career start to pour out, and once they do, I can’t seem to rein them in. “Sometimes instead of motivating me, all the outside pressure kills my love for the sport, and I’m left wondering why I’m doing it. There are days when I stand in front of the net going through the motions because I’m somewhere else mentally. I want to want to play hockey, not be forced into it because I have to. Does that make sense?”

Seraphina must have one hell of an effect on me, because I’m admitting things out loud that I haven’t even admitted to myself, let alone anyone else. Things I’ve been in deep, deep denial about for almost as long as I can remember.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “It does.”

Her response is more comforting than I expected. I rarely talk about my feelings, which means I never get much validation, either. I didn’t realize how much I needed it.

“Would you ever want to do something else instead?”

“That’s the worst part. It feels like a catch-22. Even though it makes me miserable sometimes, I can’t picture my life without hockey. I just need to replace a way to enjoy it again.”

My focus falls to her mouth as she bites her lip thoughtfully, and I swallow an agonized sound rising in my throat. It’s impossible to keep my mind on task when she does things like that.

“I think you can,” she says. “It’s not like you’re trying to be somebody else. You’re simply trying to reconnect with a piece of yourself that you’ve lost touch with. It’s still in there, it’s just gotten buried under some other junk.”

“Then it’s buried pretty fucking deep.”

“I know the outside pressure is real, but have you considered that some of it might be the pressure you’re putting on yourself?” Her mouth tugs into a patient smile. “I’m not sure whether you’ve noticed, but you’re a little intense when it comes to hockey.”

What she’s saying makes sense, objectively, but I didn’t get to where I am by coasting.

“Let’s circle back to you for a sec. You’re smart and funny and feisty as hell, Tink. I know you’ll kick ass at whatever you end up doing someday, whether that means one career or seven. It’s okay if you don’t have it all figured out yet.”

This advice probably applies to me, too. Maybe if I take it one day at a time, I’ll learn to chill the fuck out. Somehow.

Seraphina sidles closer in her chair and angles her body towards me, looping her arms around my waist for a hug. Warmth floods my body, and I slide my hands to her back. She lets out a contented sigh as she squeezes me, burying her face in my chest.

Seconds pass, but neither of us moves. It’s a little risky with Chase home, but I can’t bring myself to care. I’m a newly converted hugger, and I never want this moment to end. Besides, if hugging is the worst thing he catches us doing, I’ll call it a win.

“Thanks, Hades,” she says, the words half-muffled by the fabric of my shirt.

“Any time, Tinker Bell.”