Chapter 219
NUCA-
I stared at Charlotte.
I could not focus on anything else.
I was not even sure what the film was about. A dog. A horse. Something with legs. I was not fucking sure. People on screen were talking like the plot mattered. It did not. The only thing in the suite that mattered was sitting next to me in a dress that should have been illegal on movie night.
I could not stop looking at her.
Had she put oil on her legs?
They were shining. Smooth. Calling out to me. Begging to be touched and kissed. Since when had she been this irresistible?
She had always been Charlotte. Hoodies. Messy hair. My best friend on the other side of the room. Now she was a problem I could feel in my teeth.
I would not have been surprised if my tongue were hanging out.
I had never had this strong a reaction to any other woman before. I had never had to hold back like this either. It was fucking hard. It was excruciating. My cock was in pain, getting bigger by the second, and there was nothing noble about it.
Good thing I had a pillow over my lap.
If not for that, she would have seen how hard I was. She would have seen that one night had not ended when I said it. It had followed me onto this couch and taken a seat.
She leaned over for popcorn.
Her hand brushed mine.
Her breasts almost pushed out of the tight dress.
I froze.
My hands itched to grab her waist and pull her onto me. To put her in my lap. To shove that dress up and \ find out if she was already wet. To stop pretending I could sit through this like a man with self-control.
“I like it so far,” she said with a smile.
“Mmm?”
“The movie.” She glanced at me and caught me staring at her breasts.
I should have looked away.
I did not, not fast enough.
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14:35 Mon, Sep 28 JOM.
The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
“Yeah. It’s a good movie.” I lied.
dia
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not know a single plot point. Someone on screen spoke. Charlotte laughed once. I memorized the sound instead of the joke. The dress kept winning. Every time she shifted, more thigh. Every time she reached forward, the see-through fabric did something with the lamp that made my brain short-circuit.
One night.
I said it in my head like a rule that had already failed.
She tucked a foot under herself.
The dress climbed.
I looked at the ceiling. Then at her mouth. Then at the pillow like it was a teammate I needed to thank for keeping me from committing a crime in the middle of a film.
“You’re quiet,” she said.
“Saving energy. Need to qualify tomorrow.”
“You usually talk through the whole film.”
“Being quiet. For my sanity. You should thank me. You usually complain when I talk throughout the
movie.”
She smiled, and I wanted to put my mouth on it. I wanted to bite that smile. I wanted to hear her scream the way she had last night when I was inside her.
I ate popcorn instead.
I almost choked when she spread her legs open a tiny bit.
Not much.
Enough.
Enough that my mind went straight back to the wall. To how tight she had been. To the sound she made when I first pushed in. I gripped the bowl hard enough that the plastic made a sound that made her look.
Minutes dragged.
An hour.
I did not know.
Time had left the suite.
I counted corners instead of scenes. Turn 1. Turn 2. Turn 5, which was already ruined for me. I told myself qualifying was important. Twenty cars. I needed to be faster than them all.
My body only knew the heat of her knee near mine and the fact that I could still taste her if I let myself remember.
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The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
She brought ice cream out halfway through whatever was happening on the screen.
vo spoons.
One pint.
She sat closer to share it.
Closer.
The last useful inch of space died.
A drop missed her mouth and slid down, slow, into the line of her chest, disappearing into the dress like the universe had a sense of humor I wanted to fight.
“Oops,” she said, laughing, and used two fingers to catch it.
What the fuck was so funny?
Too late.
It was already gone.
She licked her fingers.
Then looked at the screen like nothing had happened.
Motherfucker.
I forgot how to swallow.
How to breathe.
How to do anything in that moment except sit there with a pillow on my cock and a rule in my mouth that I no longer wanted to follow.
I did not think she had done it on purpose.
Charlotte usually spilled things.
Charlotte was also someone who lived in hoodies.
My body did not care about evidence.
My body only saw cream on skin I had put my mouth on last night. Skin I had marked. Skin I had no right to want again after I had been the one to say just one night.
“You want some?” she asked, holding the pint out.
Only if it was on her body.
Only if I could lick it off her.
Only if the film stopped and the deal died and I got to take that dress off with my teeth.
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The Mockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
“I’m good.”
voice sounded rough.
She shrugged and took another bite. Another small miss. Not as dramatic. Still enough that I had to look at the TV like it could save me. It could not.
I wanted to groan.
I wanted to tell her to put on a hoodie before I did something we would have to pretend about again in the morning.
I wanted to drag her under me and make the suite hear her a second night in a row.
I did none of it.
I sat there and let it torture me.
Every shift of that dress was a lap I was losing.
Every brush of her arm was Turn 5 all over again.
I was supposed to be the man who fucked and forgot. I was supposed to be able to sit next to a woman in a short dress without coming apart.
She was not just any a woman.
She was Charlotte.
That was why my reaction felt like it was driving me insane. I did not understand it.
When a loud scene hit, I used it as my cue to get out of here.
I stood.
Pillow still in front of me.
Like the only decent thing I had done all night.
“I need sleep,” I said. “Qualifying tomorrow. We can finish this after the race on Sunday.”
I did not wait for her to answer.
If I waited, I would look at her mouth again. If I looked at her mouth again, I would kiss her. If I kissed her, the dress was coming off and I would not stop.
I left the room like it was on fire.
The bedroom door shut hard.
I pressed my back against it.
Pillow still there because my cock had not received the damn regulations. It was still hard. Still aching. Still convinced the night was not over.
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14:35 Mon, Sep 20
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Just one fucking night.
ould not even survive the night after.
I was supposed to be normal for the rest of our lives. How would that even be possible?
I dropped the pillow.
Took a cold shower and held my head in my hands.
It did not help.
I could still see the dress. The oil on her legs. The ice cream disappearing into her chest. Her smile like she was not destroying me on purpose.
I braced a hand on the tile and hated myself.
Qualifying in the morning.
I needed to keep reminding myself of that
important detail.
Twenty cars.
I needed to be the best.
Right now I could only remember how she had felt around me. How she had screamed. How she had looked at my cock this morning like last night was not finished. I could not remember how to do anything
else. Not even race.
I lay on the bed and stared at the dark and hated the rule I had chosen to follow.
One night.
She had walked out in that dress like she had not agreed to it.
I had run like the coward I always was around her.
Sunday felt far away.
Saturday was going to be a disaster if I did not get her out of my head.
And I already knew I would take that disaster onto the track with me.
14:35 Mon, Sep 20
The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
Dex Morgan
Dex works to elevate each story with clean writing, emotional balance, and thoughtful flow for readers.