Page 41 of The Groupie

“I think we can get another ten percent, but I’ll ask for fifteen.”

“I don’t know.” Discomfort lodges in my gut where the food should be going, and I’m suddenly not hungry when I should be starving. I force another bite of steak.

“Look, I know talking about negotiations isn’t your favorite thing, but I have an obligation to look out for your best interests.”

“It’s just… Look, I don’t care so much about the money. I want to play for the Brawlers.” I wouldn’t admit this to my teammates, but I trust Jett. I’m lucky to be on my dream team.

“I understand where you’re coming from, kid, but don’t worry. They want you. We’ll work it out. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of you. You’ll be on the team you want and paid what you deserve.” He slaps my back. “I’ll make sure you’re wealthier than ever.”

The thought that Rylee needs money drifts through my head. I have no business worrying about her. I finish eating the steak without tasting it. Besides, she’ll be fine. She has a lot going for her, chiefly a take-no-prisoners attitude. We finish dinner, and I dismiss her from my head as I exchange a bro-hug with Jett, then head home. We have an early departure in the morning for our game in Carolina tomorrow night.

* * *

Only one week and four days left to enjoy Rylee’s company. That should not be what’s on my mind as I hit the bed alone in my hotel room, but it is. Without thinking—because apparently, I’ve lost my fucking mind—I grab my phone from the nightstand and tap on her number, which happens to be at the top of my favorites list because, yes, I am that pathetic right now.

After one ring, my senses return, and I’m moving the phone off my ear to end the call when I hear her voice. It’s quiet and sleepy and sexy as hell. A picture of her in bed fills the previously empty space between my ears, and I clutch the phone to my ear again at the insistence of my dick—and the other instinct in me, whatever that’s made of.

“Did I wake you?”

“Is that what you called and woke me to ask?”

I laugh as her sarcasm does its magical levitation trick on my dick. Holy shit, am I easy. “We lost our game tonight. Did you watch?”

She yawns. I’m unsure if it’s a fake yawn, but I grin.

“I might have. If I did, I would’ve noticed your two penalties and the minus-three performance when you managed to stay on the ice.”

I laugh when I should be wounded. “Hey, you’re supposed to be consoling me.”

“You called the wrong girl for that. Unless…”

My pulse spikes, all my blood suddenly rushing south to my already stiff dick, and I know there’s no returning from this boner without some satisfaction.

“Unless what, Buttercup?” I slide my hand down and free my dick from the boxers.

“You wouldn’t be interested in some dirty talk, would you? Nah, not you…”

I chuckle at her tease and take hold of my dick. “It’s not me. But my dick misses you terribly.”

“Tell your dick I miss him, too. Tell him I’m getting hot thinking about you palming him right now.”

I inhale a shuddering breath and move my hand from the bottom to the top of my shaft. Stroking the tip, I spread the pre-cum back down and squeeze. Shit. I need her, and I wish to fuck she was in this bed right now.

“My dick and I are all about following your instructions.” I keep stroking, but I need more from her. “How about you and your pussy?”

“I’m bored and half asleep, but my pussy is a lively little girl.” I hear her suck in a breath, and my dick jolts. “She’s swollen and wet and needs consolation because she’s missing out on all that Zak-dick fun. She might even be jealous of your hand right now. Mmmm… but…”

My hand pumps harder because I know she’s touching herself, and I can feel the silky pulse of her around me with each slide of my hand.

“Tell me more.” My words are a ragged command.

“I… I’m busy…you tell me…”

“My cock is hard and crying for you, but I’m doing my best to beat the fuck out of it… Jesus…”

“Are you close? Are you pulling fast?” She lets out a moan. “I’m so… my clit is weeping, and no matter how much I flick…it needs...oooh.”

“What? Tell me.” I pump hard, my hand tight, and I manage to put the phone on speaker and drop it because I need two hands. Shit. “I’m getting close.”