Three Hours
Chapter 1
Three Hours
By the time the team left the SoctiaBank Place and arrived at the Ottawa International Airport, it would be around midnight. Fly time from Ottawa to Pittsburgh was two hours and after they landed, it would be another hour by the time they got off the plane, to their cars and on the road to home. Three hours. Three hours until she would see him again. Three hours until she could tell him just how proud she was of him. Three hours until he was home.
Sleep was something that she thought wouldn’t come easy, but it was surprisingly, something that came fast. Maybe it was the fact that he had finally scored, not one but two goals at tonight’s game. Maybe it was that after four days away, the empty side of the bed would be filled again. Or maybe it was her adreilene rush finally bottoming out. Whatever the case, after her nightly routine, sleep came quickly.
She heard the sound of his overnight bag when it brushed against the walk-in closet door. She stirred, not realizing that he was actually there and that she wasn’t dreaming. He dropped the bag and turned to see her lying on her back in their bed, the auburn of her hair contrasting with the cream of the pillows. He craved to be close to her, to feel her breathe on his skin while the slept in the same bed. The sight of her, like this, was home to him.
She felt him watching her and when she finally realized that she wasn’t dreaming, she sat up in the bed, rubbed her eyes and there he was, finally home.
“Only two goals tonight” she said with a smart-ass tone in her voice.“What, no Hat Trick?”
“Why do you insist on wearing that damn Crosby shirt to bed?”
“You know how about feel about the Captain,” she said, this time with a little more mocking in tone.
“How do you feel about a Second Line, Left Winger?” he asked as he moved closer to the bed.
“Well, that depends”.“Since one of your goals on a Power Play, that would have put on the same line with Crosby” she moved her legs from under the covers and her feet touched the floor.
“I think I could share my lustful feelings for someone on the First Line.”
As she started to stand, he crossed the room in two steps, sweeping her up in his arms and throwing her back onto the bed. With her underneath him, he traced his finger along her bottom lip and in one single movement, captured her lips in a searing kiss. He broke from the kiss only to move his lips down her neck and to the collar of her t-shirt.
“Remind me to burn this fucking shirt before the next road trip,” he mouthed onto her neck.
“Why would you say that, I’ve had this shirt way longer than I’ve known you?”
He brought his eyes back up to hers. How she could get lost in those eyes, and she wondered, how anyone could have eyelashes as long as his. She ran her fingers over his beard, the playoff beard that was gaining its own following on Tumblr. She moved from his beard and ran her hands though his infamous hair. It was getting long and curly, desperately in need of a cut and unfortunately, a washing. She looked into his eyes and saw a man determined. He had a hell of a game, he was on his way back and she knew, the Crosby shirt wasn’t going to last very long.
He lifted himself off of her and the bed. She watched as he took off his suit jacket and laid it on the bench at the end of the bed. She sat up on her elbows and took in the show that she thought he was about to give her.
“What, did you think I was going to crawl in bed with you still wearing that shirt,” he mocked to her. I’m not taking anything else off until you ditch the shirt.”
“Well, if I had someone else’s shirt to wear to bed, this wouldn’t be a problem, now would it,” she taunted back.
Game on.
He grabbed her by her feet and pulled her to the end of the bed and with one swoop, lifted her up and had his hands placed firmly on her ass. She wrapped her arms around his neck and with the intensity that he had when he lifted her off the bed, she crushed her lips onto his. Their tongues darted in and out of each other’s mouths while she ground her hips into him. He threw his head back and found himself squeezing her ass harder with each movement that came from her hips. He spun them around and with a thud, landed her against the wall. He was able to get a better grip on her, her ass and now with a free hand, the shirt in question. His hands assaulted her from both sides, one on her ass and other now finding its way under the shirt and directly to her right breast. When he captured the nipple in his fingertips and rolled it between his fingers, a moan washed over her and she needed more.
She ran her tongue along his neck, working her way up to his ear where she whispered into it “you have too many clothes on.”
He spun them around again, this time, landing her on time of the mirrored dresser.“You first,” he said.
She looked into his eyes and she knew that if that shirt didn’t come off willingly on her part, it was going to end up on the floor in multiple pieces. Slowly she lifted the seam of the bottom of the shirt, creeping it slowly over her abdomen, letting the under part of her breast show ever so slightly. He smiled and backed away from her and started to unbutton his dress shirt. She held her breath as he unbuttoned each button and pulled the shirt out of his pants and off of his back.She took one long look at him, his long, muscular build and knew she had to have him. In the time it took him to blink, she sat there staring back at him, sans the Crosby shirt.
Four long days away from her and he couldn’t get the buckle on his Louis Vuitton belt undone and his pants down fast enough. She was sitting on the dresser with only a smile and a pair of pink lace boy shorts on. This is what he had been thinking about in his hotel room while he was gone. The way she felt, the way she tasted, the way she made him feel that no one or nothing else mattered when they were together. He hooked his fingers on the sides of her panties and pulled them off of her. She was there for him to take.
She looked at him with hooded eyes; she knew he loved it when she did that. All she wanted was to feel his skin on hers and to take him so deep inside her that they wouldn’t be able to tell where he ended and she began. Using her toes, she tugged at his boxer briefs and edged them down as far as she could get them until she finally drew him in close enough to use her hands to pull them down over what had now become a very motivated, very hard man. Taking him into her hand, she stoked him until he finally slammed his hands into the mirror of the dresser.
“Are you trying to kill me,” he asked? “Or did you just really miss me?”
“I really, really missed you,” she kissed into his neck.
“And, I really, really missed this,” he said as he caressed the inside of her thigh with his hand.
He slowly, methodically, worked his way up her thigh, turning her into a bundle of nerves that was about to explode. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tilted herself into him.
He smirked onto her check, “a long four days was it?”
“Either kiss me or fuck me, the choice is yours.”
With that he entered her slowly at first and when she had time to adjust to him, they began to find their rhythm. Slow and languid at first, a familiarity found in lovers who knew their partners, but as soon as they looked each other in the eyes, the pace quickly changed. Urgency took over, the need to feel each other in the most primal way. He set the pace and she met his trusts with all the passion as he was giving her. He took a breast into his hand and squeezed. She dug her nails into his back. Their mouths pressed together in a steaming kiss, tongues brushing against each other. He worked his way down her neck, nipping and licking along the way until he reached her breasts. He gently licked and rolled her nipple and when he finished with the one, he moved to the other and gave it the same treatment.She was beginning to feel a slow burning low in her belly and she knew that he was going to take her over the edge. He could feel her getting slick with each thrust and when he reached down between them and began to rub her on the spot that would make her let go, he knew neither of them would last much longer. A low groan came deep from within him and she followed with what could be best described as a noise that was sheer pleasure.
Three hours later, with both of them completely sated, covered in sweat, wrapped in damp sheets and each other, she turned to him and asked, “so Nealer, do you have a shirt I can borrow, because when Paulie comes over in about another hour, unannounced, to make us breakfast, I’m pretty sure you are not going to want me in that Crosby shirt.”
“What the hell am I going to have to do to get you to put that shirt away?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a Hat Trick in Game 5.”
By the time the team left the SoctiaBank Place and arrived at the Ottawa International Airport, it would be around midnight. Fly time from Ottawa to Pittsburgh was two hours and after they landed, it would be another hour by the time they got off the plane, to their cars and on the road to home. Three hours. Three hours until she would see him again. Three hours until she could tell him just how proud she was of him. Three hours until he was home.
Sleep was something that she thought wouldn’t come easy, but it was surprisingly, something that came fast. Maybe it was the fact that he had finally scored, not one but two goals at tonight’s game. Maybe it was that after four days away, the empty side of the bed would be filled again. Or maybe it was her adreilene rush finally bottoming out. Whatever the case, after her nightly routine, sleep came quickly.
She heard the sound of his overnight bag when it brushed against the walk-in closet door. She stirred, not realizing that he was actually there and that she wasn’t dreaming. He dropped the bag and turned to see her lying on her back in their bed, the auburn of her hair contrasting with the cream of the pillows. He craved to be close to her, to feel her breathe on his skin while the slept in the same bed. The sight of her, like this, was home to him.
She felt him watching her and when she finally realized that she wasn’t dreaming, she sat up in the bed, rubbed her eyes and there he was, finally home.
“Only two goals tonight” she said with a smart-ass tone in her voice.“What, no Hat Trick?”
“Why do you insist on wearing that damn Crosby shirt to bed?”
“You know how about feel about the Captain,” she said, this time with a little more mocking in tone.
“How do you feel about a Second Line, Left Winger?” he asked as he moved closer to the bed.
“Well, that depends”.“Since one of your goals on a Power Play, that would have put on the same line with Crosby” she moved her legs from under the covers and her feet touched the floor.
“I think I could share my lustful feelings for someone on the First Line.”
As she started to stand, he crossed the room in two steps, sweeping her up in his arms and throwing her back onto the bed. With her underneath him, he traced his finger along her bottom lip and in one single movement, captured her lips in a searing kiss. He broke from the kiss only to move his lips down her neck and to the collar of her t-shirt.
“Remind me to burn this fucking shirt before the next road trip,” he mouthed onto her neck.
“Why would you say that, I’ve had this shirt way longer than I’ve known you?”
He brought his eyes back up to hers. How she could get lost in those eyes, and she wondered, how anyone could have eyelashes as long as his. She ran her fingers over his beard, the playoff beard that was gaining its own following on Tumblr. She moved from his beard and ran her hands though his infamous hair. It was getting long and curly, desperately in need of a cut and unfortunately, a washing. She looked into his eyes and saw a man determined. He had a hell of a game, he was on his way back and she knew, the Crosby shirt wasn’t going to last very long.
He lifted himself off of her and the bed. She watched as he took off his suit jacket and laid it on the bench at the end of the bed. She sat up on her elbows and took in the show that she thought he was about to give her.
“What, did you think I was going to crawl in bed with you still wearing that shirt,” he mocked to her. I’m not taking anything else off until you ditch the shirt.”
“Well, if I had someone else’s shirt to wear to bed, this wouldn’t be a problem, now would it,” she taunted back.
Game on.
He grabbed her by her feet and pulled her to the end of the bed and with one swoop, lifted her up and had his hands placed firmly on her ass. She wrapped her arms around his neck and with the intensity that he had when he lifted her off the bed, she crushed her lips onto his. Their tongues darted in and out of each other’s mouths while she ground her hips into him. He threw his head back and found himself squeezing her ass harder with each movement that came from her hips. He spun them around and with a thud, landed her against the wall. He was able to get a better grip on her, her ass and now with a free hand, the shirt in question. His hands assaulted her from both sides, one on her ass and other now finding its way under the shirt and directly to her right breast. When he captured the nipple in his fingertips and rolled it between his fingers, a moan washed over her and she needed more.
She ran her tongue along his neck, working her way up to his ear where she whispered into it “you have too many clothes on.”
He spun them around again, this time, landing her on time of the mirrored dresser.“You first,” he said.
She looked into his eyes and she knew that if that shirt didn’t come off willingly on her part, it was going to end up on the floor in multiple pieces. Slowly she lifted the seam of the bottom of the shirt, creeping it slowly over her abdomen, letting the under part of her breast show ever so slightly. He smiled and backed away from her and started to unbutton his dress shirt. She held her breath as he unbuttoned each button and pulled the shirt out of his pants and off of his back.She took one long look at him, his long, muscular build and knew she had to have him. In the time it took him to blink, she sat there staring back at him, sans the Crosby shirt.
Four long days away from her and he couldn’t get the buckle on his Louis Vuitton belt undone and his pants down fast enough. She was sitting on the dresser with only a smile and a pair of pink lace boy shorts on. This is what he had been thinking about in his hotel room while he was gone. The way she felt, the way she tasted, the way she made him feel that no one or nothing else mattered when they were together. He hooked his fingers on the sides of her panties and pulled them off of her. She was there for him to take.
She looked at him with hooded eyes; she knew he loved it when she did that. All she wanted was to feel his skin on hers and to take him so deep inside her that they wouldn’t be able to tell where he ended and she began. Using her toes, she tugged at his boxer briefs and edged them down as far as she could get them until she finally drew him in close enough to use her hands to pull them down over what had now become a very motivated, very hard man. Taking him into her hand, she stoked him until he finally slammed his hands into the mirror of the dresser.
“Are you trying to kill me,” he asked? “Or did you just really miss me?”
“I really, really missed you,” she kissed into his neck.
“And, I really, really missed this,” he said as he caressed the inside of her thigh with his hand.
He slowly, methodically, worked his way up her thigh, turning her into a bundle of nerves that was about to explode. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tilted herself into him.
He smirked onto her check, “a long four days was it?”
“Either kiss me or fuck me, the choice is yours.”
With that he entered her slowly at first and when she had time to adjust to him, they began to find their rhythm. Slow and languid at first, a familiarity found in lovers who knew their partners, but as soon as they looked each other in the eyes, the pace quickly changed. Urgency took over, the need to feel each other in the most primal way. He set the pace and she met his trusts with all the passion as he was giving her. He took a breast into his hand and squeezed. She dug her nails into his back. Their mouths pressed together in a steaming kiss, tongues brushing against each other. He worked his way down her neck, nipping and licking along the way until he reached her breasts. He gently licked and rolled her nipple and when he finished with the one, he moved to the other and gave it the same treatment.She was beginning to feel a slow burning low in her belly and she knew that he was going to take her over the edge. He could feel her getting slick with each thrust and when he reached down between them and began to rub her on the spot that would make her let go, he knew neither of them would last much longer. A low groan came deep from within him and she followed with what could be best described as a noise that was sheer pleasure.
Three hours later, with both of them completely sated, covered in sweat, wrapped in damp sheets and each other, she turned to him and asked, “so Nealer, do you have a shirt I can borrow, because when Paulie comes over in about another hour, unannounced, to make us breakfast, I’m pretty sure you are not going to want me in that Crosby shirt.”
“What the hell am I going to have to do to get you to put that shirt away?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a Hat Trick in Game 5.”
