Page 119 of Twisted Needs
“Then play better so you won’t have to be sitting here with my negative aura…” I chirp.
“I’m fucking injured!” he argues, waving me away with his good hand. His city accent slips out when he gets upset, which makes it impossible to take the kid seriously. I just look at him and laugh, shaking my head and biting back a grin like a complete asshole. He took a hard hit to the shoulder earlier, but was cleared to come back out. Unfortunately for him, Coach is in Mama Bear mode. “Fucking Matty and her pregnancy hormones. I’ve already got one ma’ at home, and I sure as hell don’t need another.”
“Watch it,” I warn. “Those pregnancy hormones give her bat-like hearing.”
“Yeah, but we’re talkin’ ‘bout the chick who won the Walter Cup with a broken ankle and half her teeth knocked out. It’s a fuckin’ dislocated shoulder and she’s acting like I’m bleeding from the fuckin’ head.”
“Having a busted shoulder makes you skate lopsided,” I joke. “You’re sparing us the embarrassment.”
“Oh, fuck off, Cap,” he scoffs again. “Just remember we’re one goal away from me smothering you in your sleep with a pillow.”
“Well, then at least I wouldn’t have to sit here and listen to you harping on me for negative auras and pregnancy hormones when it’s your fault for skating like you play for fucking Buffalo.”
“Touché,” Malloy snorts, cracking a smirk. “Fuckin’ Buffalo…”
Three hours later, I’m being crammed in between two hotel room beds on a creaky, old roll-out cot that probably has a spring poking out if I search hard enough for it.
In my own damn hotel room.
Malloy occupies the bed to my left, while Vandy and Rogers are sharing the other. We’re only about ten minutes into Shrek when my phone starts buzzing.
“Be right back,” I announce, sliding off the bed and stepping into some slippers. I answer the phone as soon as the room door shuts behind me. “Hey, sweetheart,” I say into the phone, smiling to myself. “I miss you—”
“You’re having a sleepover?” Anders laughs, sounding like he’s dying of laughter on the other end.
“How do you know?” I chuckle.
“Got the inside scoop from Malloy. He’s made, like, three TikToks about it.”
“Christ,” I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’ve only been in there twenty minutes.”
“You can’t get out of it?” Anders pouts. “I thought we were gonna have nasty phone sex before you went to bed.”
“I’m sorry,” I frown, letting out a deep sigh. “Could you settle for nasty real sex tomorrow night when I get home?”
“I guess,” Anders sighs dramatically. I can hear him shifting around on the bed.
“Who’s bed are you in right now?” I ask him.
“Mine. Why?”
“Wrong answer. Mine’s bigger.”
Anders chuckles softly. “Is this part of one of your pervy fantasies?”
The image of him sleeping peacefully in my arms flashes through my mind, making something warm settle deep in my heart. He’s always so content when he’s sleeping. Perfect. All I want to do is run my fingers through his soft hair and kiss the top of his head. I want to feel his heart beating and listen to the faint sleeping noises he makes when he’s more tired than usual.
“Yeah,” I lie. I scan the hallway and make sure I’m alone, walking a few doors down so none of the guys can hear me. “I want your pretty little self rolled up in my sheets with nothing on,” I tell him quietly. “Actually—” My mouth curls into a smirk when I bite down on my bottom lip. “A black thong, my jersey, and some long, white socks that are all bunched around your ankles.”
“Is the jersey clean or dirty?” he jokes.
“It’s a special one you only wear in the house,” I mutter. “So it could go either way, I guess.”
“Of course,” Anders chuckles. “And you’re gonna say that to me and still choose Shrek with the boys over having phone sex with your special little boy?” he scoffs. “Do you hate me, Daddy?”
“Fuck.” I feel myself grow stiff between my legs. If this keeps going, I’m not gonna make it.
“Don’t make me feel bad,” I whine. “Tomorrow, angel. I’m gonna make it up to you with lots and lots of sex.”
