Differences

Ryan woke up the next day to the feel of Michael playing with her hair. Every girl’s dream, right? A hunky hockey player, lovingly twirling bits of your hair around his fingers as he watches you sleep, his eyes full of passion and longing; everything is beautiful and you’re content with every aspect of your life with this man…

Ryan in this situation sighed deeply and without opening her eyes slapped her hand against the pillow between her and Michael to tug the hair from his fingers. “What are you doing?”

“I love your hair.” He smacked her hand several times until she moved it and then ran his fingers through the dark locks spread out across her pillow, fanning them even more under her cheek and in front of her face.

When she opened one eye, she saw him lying with his head on her other pillow, his fingers once more lost in the depths of her hair. “What time is it? Go back to sleep.”

“It’s noon. I already went to morning skate, you didn’t even notice. I guess you really were tired.”

Her pretty mouth came up in a smirk as she opened both eyes. “I really was, and then you came over and wore me out even more.”

“You accept my apology?”

Ryan rolled onto her back, draping one arm over her eyes. “How many times did you make me come last night?”

“I counted seven, but you tell me.”

“Hmm, seven sounds right.” She thought about it. “I’ll accept your apology when you hit seventy.”

“Nine more nights like last night? Easy.”

“I’m surprised you know your multiplication tables up that high. Ah!” She shouted a giggle when he pinched the flesh of her side.

“So funny, haha.”

Arm still over her eyes, she felt him climb on top of her, pressing her narrow body into the mattress as he rested his weight on her. She noticed two things, she was still naked and he must have gotten naked again when he crawled back into bed with her. Now she was awake.

She brought her hands to his shoulders and met his gaze. “You getting started on those orgasms already?”

“Thinking about it. What are you doing today? You had no alarms set.”

“It’s Thursday, my off day. I’m doing nothing today.”

His hands found her wrists, held them down next to her head as he started to kiss down her neck and onto her chest. “Mmm, you’re coming to the game, right?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Those budding nipples of hers hardened under his tongue as she started to undulate slightly beneath him. “You could have let me get you tickets.”

“I could have, but I’m perfectly capable of getting my own. Besides, knowing you, you’d put me with the WAGs. And then there would be a mass murder/suicide in the crowd. No one would be happy then.”

She wasn’t his girlfriend, she had made that perfectly clear, but that is where he would have put her, because for as much as the other women might annoy her, he would want to know she was there, being her radiantly beautiful self and making all of them sick with jealousy. Also, Ryan has no filter, so she would have told the means one off, endearing herself to the nice ones and thus endearing herself to him even more. He simply grunted his agreement with her.

His mouth was down around her abs, still brushing his lips and tongue over her skin. His hands now reach up to cup her breasts and also hold her torso down. Ryan moaned quietly, still sleepy, but letting her body slowly awaken under his touch.

He had just hit the good part, his tongue circling her clit once, when there was a knock on the door. “Sorry, just me. I know you’re probably still doing what I had to listen to ALL last night.”

“Babe! I love you, but seriously fuck off.”

Contessa stood outside Ryan’s door and tried not to laugh audibly. “Anyway, just letting you know, we’re out of bread.”

Michael hadn’t stopped, but he did giggle against her wet pussy lips listening to the two of them. Ryan shouted, “And you don’t know where the goddamn grocery store is?”

“I do, I was just saying, if you go, we need bread.”

Ryan knew exactly what Contessa was doing. Until the Flyers’ season was over, Contessa was living with Ryan, which meant they had all the problems of roommates, namely listening to other residents fucking at all hours of the day and night. This was Ryan’s payback for being so loud during her seven orgasms the night before.

Fine, she could play that game, too. Instead of answering, she just started to moan, thrusting her hips against Michael’s mouth, who was more than happy to help her.

“Oh, fuck yeah, Mike. Ooooooo, you’re so goddamn good! Better than that little bitch Crosby, I bet.”

“You’re rude as fuck, Ryan!”

“Peace the fuck out, then. Bye!”

Ryan heard her friend walk away and she and Michael burst into giggles together. She sat up and looked down at him. “No seriously, though, don’t stop. You’re the fucking greatest at this.”

“I know. Lay back and let me finish.”

She was more than happy to accommodate this request, soon coming with a shout as he finished her off with his skilled tongue.

He came back up the way he went down, kissing along her body and using his hands to hold her down. By the time his mouth was on her neck, Ryan was spreading her legs to hold his hips and rubbing herself along his shaft.

He nibbled her earlobe as she tilted her head to lick his bulbous shoulder. He shoved into her hard and Ryan immediately lifted her thighs and then locked her ankles behind his back. He dragged her body down and then up again when he pressed back in, getting even deeper this time with her legs spread open for him.

His mouth found hers with lazy, sloppy kisses that sometimes landed on her cheeks or chin as her jaw fell open to expel more breath.

“Mike…you give the best apologies.”

He nodded, finding it hard to speak. Ryan was having one of those rare and lovely quiet moments. She was so soft right now, not her body, that was always soft and welcoming, but it was her soul. She was restful, at ease, joking with Contessa usually had that effect on her. She was unguarded, touching him so gently even as he fucked her nice and hard how she liked. He didn’t want anything to ruin this, not when there was no telling how long it would last. And it wasn’t what she said or didn’t say, did or denied him, it just a shift in the energy of the room, something he just felt in his bones.

He kept stroking against her, breathing her breath, kissing her skin, grabbing her ass to tilt her hips and find new angles for his thrusts. He fucked her until she was close, until she was ready to go. Her legs fell away, her feet resting on the bed as she bent her knees and then spread them wide to open up for him even more.

Her short nails dragged down his back until she reached down and grabbed his ass, hauling him even closer as she started to come. She let out one final moan and then went weak underneath him, letting him finish himself off with a few more short jerks inside her.

He knew he was right that she was feeling soft when she didn’t push him away. In fact, she pulled him closer, kissing him again deeply as his cock slipped out and he propped himself up with his elbows on the bed.

When she got tired of him, that was when she patted his arm, telling him silently to move. He rolled onto his back and she got up, rounding the bed to stand on his side of it. She leaned down and kissed him one more time. She patted his chest now and then went to shower, wordlessly telling him to stay, to nap in her bed as he was wont to do. And so he did.

That afternoon, Michael and Contessa left for work together, leaving Ryan to enjoy her Thursday off until she made her own way to the arena for the game one of round two in the playoffs. The Flyers had beaten the Pens in seven games in the first round which made Contessa happy as a Flyers fan and a little sad as Sidney Crosby’s girl. Ryan was thrilled with the result, naturally, and was looking forward to her team trouncing the Caps in round two.

She was having a good day, a perfectly fine day, in fact. Then, she got the mail and read a letter from her mortgage company that would have made anyone else delicious with glee, but that made Ryan see red. She called Contessa.

“Hey, what the fuck this I just got in the mail?”

“Um, I don’t know, Ry. What did you get in the mail?”

“Dear Ms. MacShaw, we are writing to inform you that your account has been closed, marked as paid in full. You wanna tell me who paid off my mortgage or should I take a wild fucking guess?”

“Ryan -”

“How did he even do this? I don’t need his money.”

“He wanted to do it, he knows how much that house means to you. As to how…remember you made me the joint holder of one of your accounts when you were too lazy to cash your checks? That means I can access the mortgage associated with that account.” Ryan didn’t respond, she couldn’t, or she was going to say something she would regret. Contessa asked meekly, “Are you really that mad about it?”

“Yes! I’m really fucking mad about it. Because that son of bitch is just trying to get in my good graces and it’s not going to work. Tell him to undo this.”

“I…can’t. You can’t take back a payment from the mortgage company. It’s done.”

“Whose side are you on, seriously?”

“Ryan, don’t act like this, I’m not on anyone’s side. I love you both. Sidney feels bad about what happened, I forgive him, but he knows you don’t. He wanted to do something nice, something that would mean a lot.”

Ryan said again, “I don’t need his money. I can take care of myself.”

“Babe, I know you can, he knows it, too. It’s not about the money. He wanted you to have the house, free and clear. The money was the only means to that end. If it bothers you that much, take out another mortgage, give the cash to Sidney, and start over again paying it off yourself. I promise I’ll make him take it from you if that’s really what you wanna do. But can I just ask you?”

“What?”

“Please don’t do that. Just let him do this. Please don’t be angry with him over this or what happened. I know you think he did me wrong, but -”

“He did do you wrong. He’s a fucking piece of shit, BUT…I know you love him. And I know you wouldn’t have done what you did if you weren’t sure he loved you.” Ryan took a calming breath. “Believe it or not, I’m trying really hard to not be an asshole about him, but you know me. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

Contessa laughed on the other end. “Yes, I know you. It doesn’t bother me and I know it doesn’t bother Raffl, but it bothers Sidney. He doesn’t know you like I do and he’s so sensitive. He also knows what you mean to me, so he’s going to keep trying to make it right until you let him know things are okay between you guys.”

“What the hell does Raffl have to do with this?”

“I was just saying, as an example. I like you the way you are. So does Raffl.”

Ryan rolled her eyes at the sentiment. “And I can only imagine how you love that.”

“I DO love it, because you’re my friend and I like to see you happy.”

“I’ll be happy when Crosby leaves me the fuck alone.”

“Then you should call him, tell him you forgive him and that you’re willing to tolerate his existence in the world. Otherwise, he’s not going to stop.”

“I’ll tell him when I see him. Maybe.”

“Glad to hear it because, uh, he’s coming back into town and going to sleep over tonight. That’s okay right? Okay, bye!”

“Contessa Higgins!” But she was already gone, hanging up and remaining unresponsive when Ryan tried to call her back again. “Little tramp is ruining my life.”

A still slightly cranky Ryan made her to the game later, settling into her seat near center ice behind the penalty boxes. When she didn’t go with Contessa, she liked to go by herself, sometimes scoring the game to occupy her time, but mostly yelling as much as anyone else. Few fans are as passionate as those in Philadelphia and during the playoffs that’s more true than ever.

After warm-ups, Ryan sat there thinking about Sidney Crosby and his unwelcome gift. She didn’t like being indebted to anyone, but to Sidney? That just about made her skin crawl. She had been doing fine, she made more than enough money to take care of herself. She didn’t need help from anyone. On the other hand, she thought about what she could do with the extra income every month: come to more Flyers games, go on vacation twice a year instead of once, finally install central air conditioning…

Alright, fine, she would confess, only to herself that it would be nice having one less thing to worry about. And it’s not like Sidney would even feel the sting in his massive bank account. She still wasn’t going to thank him or become his best pal, but she decided she might let him do this, keep the money for the house, see what else he had up his sleeve. If the man was going to go out of his way to say sorry, just like Raffl was, Ryan would take full advantage and reap the benefits. The difference is, she was planning to forgive Raffl, but she wasn’t so sure she could ever forgive Crosby. Call her petty, vindictive, a grudge-holder and she would agree with you, gladly. She would not, however, forgive anyone until she damn good and ready, the stubborn woman.

The game started, typical playoff aggression, hard checks, questionable hits, not a lot of time or space to get much done. The Flyers did manage to score on a powerplay towards the end of the first, which put everyone in orange in a great mood.

Second period action was much of the same, but halfway through, Capitals defenseman Brooks Orpik laid out Giroux with a nasty, late hit. Ryan, like everyone else in the arena, jumped up, shouting her displeasure.

“Orpik, you piece of fucking trash!” The scrum that followed involved Michael and Ryan couldn’t help herself, he just made her so damn proud when he got testy on the ice, shoving the opposing team every chance he got. “Don’t take that shit from him, Raff. Beat his ass!”

She was involved in the action, but it was hard to miss the guy next to her invade herself space and say, “You’ve got quite the mouth for such a pretty thing.”

Ryan rolled her eyes, ignoring him, watching the maylay on the ice, but the man would not quit. A single female at a hockey game? She was an easy target for scumbags, or so they thought. He started to speak again and she put her hand on his face and pushed back as gently as she could, just trying to remove him from her zone. “Don’t talk to me.”

He slapped her hand away from him saying, “Fucking bitch.”

She turned to face him, hand on hip. “Yeah, I am. You got a fucking problem with that, you ape?”

He eyed her up like he was trying to decide if he could take her in a fight. Ryan actually prayed he would think he could because she was itching to throw a punch, she just wouldn’t be the first to act. Eventually, he turned away and Ryan sat down, most of the action over.

Giroux was taken to the locker room and didn’t return for the third. The Flyers won 2-3, but there was no word on the Captain. Ryan texted Michael after the game.

“How’s Giroux?”

“Alright, getting tests done, says he feels fine.”

“Can I sleep at your place?”

His response was swift. “Why?”

“Crosby’s in town, gag me with a spoon.”

He sent her a kissy-face emoji and then wrote, “You know where I live.”

She did know and she was almost jealous. Don’t get her wrong, she loved her shitty little house on her shitty little block because it was all hers. But Raffl’s place? It was modern, gorgeous, high ceilings, wall to wall windows overlooking downtown, and a massive bed with the softest sheets Ryan had ever had the pleasure of luxuriating in. Not to mention the tub that could hold about seven people and the best shower water pressure in the city.

She parked on the street, entering his building through the main entrance and taking the elevators up to his floor. The doors locked with a security code instead of a key, and Raffl had told Ryan his the first time he brought her home. That had freaked her out a little.

He was just so damn trusting, so sweet and kind to her, even when she was nothing but nasty and sour right back at him. They weren’t dating and yet he made sure she could access his home anytime she wanted. She didn’t worry about herself betraying his trust, but she worried about someone else using him when he showed them kindness. Yes, maybe she was planning on using Crosby, but he deserved it and according to Ryan, Raffl did not.

She made herself at home, stripping down and crawling into bed to wait for him. She settled in among the soft cotton and found her legs shifting in anticipation. Post-game sex with Michael was always the best. His adrenaline was high and he could go for hours. She had no doubt she was in for another multi-orgasm night, whenever he finally got home.

Fifteen minutes after she had gotten there, she was bored. To pass the time, she kicked off the covers and slipped a hand over her pussy to occupy herself that way until Raffl decided to show up. She thought of him, he was all she could think of to get of these days. While insisting she didn’t like the man and had no interest in dating him, she certainly wasn’t averse to using his body when it suited her (often) and conjuring up memories of him to get herself off when he wasn’t around.

She had three fingers stuffed in her channel and was moaning softly when she noticed him standing in the doorway. It made her jump. “Fuck, you could knock or something.”

He laughed at her quietly. “I live here, remember?”

He was in his game day suit, dark blue with a crisp white shirt and skinny orange tie. Ryan prefered him naked, but he dressed up well, too. She watched him pull off his suit coat and hang it in his closet. She didn’t stop touching herself and if anything, she did it more intensely having him in the room.

He turned to watch her as he continued to take off pieces of his outfit. He gave her a sweet smile. “If you come, you know that counts as one of my seventy.”

“Bullshit it does.”

“It does. You’re in my bed, probably thinking about what I did to you last night. That means it’s because of me.”

Her fingers found her clit, but she could not remove her eyes from his. “You’re wrong.”

“Sorry, is that not my bed? What are you thinking about?”

“It’s your bed, but I was thinking about what you did this morning, not last night.”

He nodded slowly as the last stitch of his clothing was removed and he moved towards the bed. She laid there looking up at him, so close to coming and now spurred on even more by the look in his eye. Suddenly, lightning quick, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from her cunt.

A little whine escaped her and he chuckled. He pulled her fingers between his lips and sucked on them gently. When they popped back out, he put her hand back on her pussy, with his layered over the top.

He bent down whispering, “I love to see you touch herself while you think of me.”

Back on the edge, she only nodded, closing her eyes. Michael watched her, let her hand move under his palm. She spread her thighs, thrust her hips up, murmured his name, and came by her own movements, but still because of him. He kissed her gently, murmuring, “Just beautiful” against her lips as he did so.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, hauling her into his lap and forcing her legs apart over his. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Hmm?”

“Come with us to Washington.”

Her face contorted in confusion, Ryan asked, “Why?”

“Because you’re my good luck charm and I want you there.”

Practically she said, “It’s probably sold out already.”

He shrugged, “Guess you’ll have to let me get you tickets.”

Her lips pursed and Ryan answered, “Of course, is that the real reason? So I have to depend on you for something? I don’t need you, you know. I’ll never need you, Raff.”

He spoke confidently. “One day, one day you will. And because I’m a nice guy I won’t even remind you of this moment. But one day, you’ll admit that you need me.”

“You’re still wrong, but I want to fuck you so badly I won’t keep arguing. Yes, I’ll come to Washington to see good hockey games and for post-game sex only, but no, I don’t need you.”

His mouth came towards hers. “One day, Ryan.”

“Keep dreaming, Raffl.”

Notes