Chapter 6 - Can't Hardly Wait

A/N: 8 comments this time!  You guys must really like squats. *wink*
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I wake up to movement. It’s light out, my eyes sting as I open them. And there’s something in my bed.

“Morning!” Jon yells. I skitter under the pillows, hiding as much of myself as possible.

“Stephanie! I hate you,” I moan.

“Right. Because he’s really ugly.” She sticks her head in the door. “Now no funny business, we’re going out for brunch in twenty minutes.”

Jon climbs under the covers in his jeans and sweatshirt. He fits himself in behind me like a perfect spoon and wraps his top arm around my waist. His face rests against the side of my head. “I secretly hoped you’d be naked,” he whispers theatrically. I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt, as he just saw. “But I guess there’d be no brunch, and I’m pretty hungry.” His fingers wander under my top, tracing around the bare skin of my stomach. I shift against him when it tickles. He tries to do it again, so I roll over.

“Stop, I…,” and then I forget whatever I was protesting. He looks so happy – bright eyes, silly grin – and insanely sexy with his head pressed into the pillowcase. I slide my leg between his and move in close. Damn morning breath, I want to kiss him into next week. “Morning Captain.”

“Morning gorgeous.”

Ten minutes later I’m dressed in jeans and a tank top. “Wear this one,” he says from the closet, holding the black cashmere sweater I liked so much on my shopping trip. It feels cozy and soft against my skin. He runs his hands over my shoulders. “Mmmmm.”

Steph climbs into the back of the Jeep and Jon drives to a local diner. A handful of people are there – Ashley and Patrick, Joanna and Dave, Kaner, Duncan, Brent. Steph sits next to Pat to give Jon and I two chairs together.

“I love off days,” Duncan says as the waitress delivers a donut from the pastry case. He eats it slowly, like it’s made of gold. Most of the guys are saving their celebration calories for the party – Jon might even have three drinks. Currently, his hand is cheating up my thigh under the table. To his credit he doesn’t bat an eye when I polish off a platter of bacon and eggs.

“What’s everyone wearing tonight?” Brent asks. “Steph, what’s your costume?”

Steph holds a hand over her full mouth. “Am I going?”

For some reason everyone looks at me. “Uh, do I get a plus one? I am a plus one.” If I get to bring a guest it’s news to me, though I’ve been too busy being Jon’s guest to wonder.

Duncan holds out the last bite of his donut to her. “Steph, you can be my date.”

Brent looks like he wants to slap him. “I was gonna ask her!”

Steph agrees to go with both of them. I’m psyched to have someone to get dressed with and Steph is always the hit of any party. They whisper their costumes to her and she says they’re totally unrelated but she’ll do her best. No one else will give up their secrets either. By the time we leave the diner, excitement is starting to take over.

Steph and I stop at the costume store – it’s still pretty well stocked since we’re a week before Halloween and she picks something sassy. By 8 PM we are washed and dried, shaved and plucked and pouring ourselves into our outfits. I do my makeup, then Steph gives me another coat of everything. We drive right to the party – Steph plans on coming home tonight. I don’t.

There’s a red carpet out in front of the club with photographers and two TV crews milling around. We circle the block and go in the back door. Jon’s already inside with some of the guys and he’ll have to go back outside for pictures. Whether or not I go with him will depend on what he thinks of my costume.

“Steph!” Duncan calls from the bar. He whistles as she draws up – she’s wearing a very short, white toga-style dress with one shoulder. A golden band wraps across her forehead and her hair is perfectly straight. With her kohl black eyeliner and sky-high golden sandals that wrap up her calves, she looks like a goddess. DK is dressed like a roman centurion – breastplate and kilt, complete with bare legs. His thighs are… impressive. Brent comes from another group. He’s dressed like Poseidon, complete with trident and a sleeveless top made from what looks like fishing net. His chest is also impressive. He kisses Steph’s cheek and sizes up DK. Then they turn to me but I’m looking at Jon.

The police uniform is either tighter than I remember or Jon put on ten pounds of muscle since Noon. He walks like he’s on a mission and I swear I see the outline of every surface of his body straining against the thin fabric. He’s got aviator glasses on and looks very, very serious. Fucking hell.

“Miss, you’re going to have to come with me,” Jon says in his best law enforcement voice. “I’m afraid you can’t be in here dressed like that.” He takes my arm, gives me a grin, and then slaps a handcuff on my wrist. My mouth falls open. I tug my wrist and sure enough, we are 100% handcuffed together. Jon moves his arm and my hand to my back and kisses me hard and deep. With tongue.

“Oooowww!” Duncan howls. “That’s gonna be awesome later when you lose the key and have to go to the bathroom together.”

I get half a breath from Jon’s mouth. “Think there’s anyone in the bathroom right now?”

Paul from Communications asks us to wait until the rest of the team arrives, then head to the red carpet together. Ashley and Patrick come dressed as very sexy pirates. Joanna and Dave are a gun moll and mobster, though I’m not sure whether Joanna’s outfit is a costume or something she wears all the time. We get a round of drinks.

“Are you enjoying your ride along with Officer Toews?” Jon asks me. I almost choke.

“How do you know about that?! Steph swears she didn’t tell you.”

Jon slides his glasses down his nose and winks over them. “But she did tell Kane.”

Pat and Marie arrive last, dressed like slutty Alice and the Mad Hatter with a mullet. Pat even has a stuffed white rabbit under one arm, which is also wearing a tiny mullet wig. Marie is all smiles and light, hugging everyone. She gets her arms around me and her eyes follow mine to the handcuffs, which also leads her gaze to the tightest part of Jon’s pants. “Hi Marie,” he says nicely, pulling me like I’m the only hug he plans to give all night. I make a mental note to reward him for that later. Twice.

“Those boots,” Jon whispers when she’s gone. There aren’t many ways to stand when you’re handcuffed together, but I enjoy every one of our options. “Those boots make me want to get arrested.” He thinks that with those glasses on I can’t tell he’s looking right down my top.

“Keep those cuffs handy and I’ll lock you up later,” I tease. He growls, which I stop with a kiss.

We troop outside for pictures. Jon and I go first and all the photographers know my name. He holds our cuffed wrists up for show then agrees to unshackle me while the team takes group photos.

“Don’t try to escape,” he warns me in front of the snickering crowd.

“No way you can run in those pants,” I throw back, getting my own laugh.

As the guys huddle up, Joanna puts her arm around my shoulders. “I hope you have vacation time saved. Because the way Jon’s looking at you, you won’t be able to walk until at least Tuesday.” Ashley barks a laugh and covers her mouth like she’s coughing. Marie scowls and thinks no one sees.

We dance. Some of us drink. Steph alternates songs with Duncan and Brent, but Duncan seems to get every dirty, bump-and-grind track. I’m willing to be he paid the DJ. Jon has two Jack and Cokes, making his tongue taste tangy and cold. I slide my hips along his as we move to the music – being handcuffed gives us little choice. The dance floor is crowded and we know nearly everyone, it almost feels like Jon’s a normal guy. A normal guy with ridiculous thighs – one is currently between my knees – and enormous forearms – one lays across my hip. Normal like Clark Kent maybe.

I get Jon to uncuff me so I can use the ladies’ room. Joanna joins me, mostly because she wants to tease me about Jon. If half of the stuff she’s come up with it true, I really won’t be able to walk until Tuesday. She feels triumphant when I blush. On the way back, we run into Kane headed to the bar.

“You owe me a dance,” he says, pulling my arm. I’m at inch taller than him in these boots as we make our way onto the floor. “I told you Tazer wasn’t faking!” he shouts. Pat makes up for his lack of rhythm with extra enthusiasm. He’s practically bouncing around, and I pray that no one can hear us over the music.

“You were right,” I say.

“What?!” He yells.

“THANK YOU!!” I holler back. He does the fist pump dance.

“Now, because he’s my boy, I have to tell you – it’s been a while. You know,” Pat does a little pelvic thrust that makes me really glad I’m going home with Jon instead. “So don’t pull any of that porn star shit I know you’re into. He’ll die.”

I punch him on the arm, which he dodges to grab my hand and swing me around. “You can leave those boots on though, that’s probably his kind of thing. Oh my God, he’s gonna be so much more fun when you’re done with him. Thank you, baby Jesus. And thank you, Patrick Kane,” he gives himself a bow.

As we climb out of the crowd I see them instantly – Marie is leaning over Jon at a table, her hand on his shoulder and law cut dress pushing her rack practically into his face. His head it turned mostly away, but she’s still talking. She’s also shifting her legs so her stockings graze each other slowly. In the blaring music, I swear I can hear the soft shushing noise the silk make.

“For fuck’s sake,” Pat says. I’d forgotten he was next to me. We both stomp up to the table like we’re in the army. Marie sees me first, and straightens. A tiny smirk crosses her lips – until she sees Pat. Then her face and eyes drop. Busted. For Jon’s part, he looks thrilled to see me but with a little bit of panic, like he might be in trouble for something he didn’t do. My stomach drops. I walk right up, straddle his legs and sit down in his lap. It’s way too forward, way too much PDA for this setting but I don’t give a rat’s ass.

I leave Marie to explain herself while my tongue is in Jon’s mouth. I’m annoyed and frustrated and then it’s gone – all gone because Jon’s hands slide up my bare thighs. The pads of his fingertips are slightly rough and the friction raises every hair on my body. I feel him twitch beneath the flimsy scrap of fabric that isn’t doing much to separate us. I’m practically in respiratory arrest when I finally get free from the kiss. Jon’s heart pounds right through me. I tilt my head toward the back exit leading into the lot where we parked: it’s too early to leave the party, but we are suddenly in a very compromising position.

Moment of truth. This is not Jon’s style. This is not Captain Aw-Shucks, and Captain Aw-Shucks is not an act. If Jon goes for this, it’s because he really and truly has lost a measure of control.

He practically lifts me up as he stands, hauling me up with almost no effort from his rock hard thighs. He slaps the handcuff back on and pulls me toward the door.
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As soon as we’re out the door and alone, we start running. Jon’s car is only a few rows down – thank God he drives an SUV. He beeps it open and I go right for the back seat. With the door closed and the lights off, no one can see us in here. Jon’s shoulders are wider than the seat, so I climb on top of him and press my thigh right down into his lap. He moans quietly into my mouth. He’s really hard, harder than he was when we were in his bedroom. I roll my leg right, grinding against him and earn another moan.

“Kat, my God,” he pants. His hands are on my ass, directing the next twist of my hips. He lets me do it twice before he locks his arms, holding me still.

“I don’t want out first time to be like this,” he says. I can see the strain on his face – like in that NHL commercial where he’s doing the squats with a huge weight on his shoulders. We’re so close, almost too close, and he saying no. “I want….” he groans in lust and frustration.

I get a handle on my pulse and try to form a whole thought. We’re in the backseat of a car in the parking lot of a nightclub. We’re handcuffed together. This isn’t Jon, this is Pat. For the love of God.

“It’s okay,” I say, trying to make it true. “I can wait.”

He lifts his head and looks down his chest at me. “I really don’t want to wait. But I do. Does that make sense? The first time…”

It makes sense because you’re Jonathan Toews, I think. Because he wants to treat me respectfully, do the right thing, be a gentleman. His brain must really want those things, because everything south of his belt is saying hell-fucking-no to waiting. The fact that he’s telling me this, instead of fucking me senseless and steaming up the windows, is just proof of how different he really is from every other guy.

I sit up. He sighs. For the second time I get to smile at him like I know we’re both thinking about his dick. Jon’s not going anywhere in those pants until this problem is solved. I hold our handcuffed wrists as far away as I can and go to work on his belt with my left hand.

“Kat, what…”

“Do you have a bucket of cold water in here somewhere? Or another idea?” Jon may be a gentleman but I am freaking out. My hormones are on the highway to the danger zone and I’ll be damned if I’m going back in there without getting any. He shakes his head no. “Just pretend I’m trying to bribe my way out of jail.” He looks bashful was I run my hands over his zipper, then pull the tab slowly down. He’s wearing boxer briefs and I take a moment to appreciate the soft cotton. Then I arch an eyebrow at him. “I’m gonna need a hand getting these off.” Our cuffed hands and my free one push the waistband down just below his lap.

I run my free hand over his thick erection and he closes his eyes, like I’ve just hit a sore spot. He’s trying so hard to look guilty but his lips want to smile. When he’s not looking, I lean down and touch my tongue to his smooth, taut skin.

“Kat!” he sucks in a breath. I knew he wasn’t expecting that. My hand at most. Not my mouth. I finish working my way up the underside and flick my tongue over the ridge around the head.

“Jon,” I reply. “You cuffed my right hand. To your left. We’re helpless. Do you have the keys?”

He shakes his head slowly. “No.”

I push him back flat. “Well then, Officer Toews,” I say, punctuating with my tongue on his dick, “you’re going to have to exercise that right to remain silent.”

I take him in my mouth and he moans, finally giving in. His hips lift to meet me, adjusting his weight on the leather seat. I use my one hand to stroke him as I work my way along his length. His free hand rifles my hair. By the time I’m taking his long cock all the way into my throat, he’s holding my dark waves back from my face so he can watch. It doesn’t take long. A couple of short licks, followed by a few long pulls, a few flicks of my wrist and Jon is whimpering beneath me. On the cuffed side, his fingers twine into mine and squeeze. I press his dick flat against his stomach and run my lips up the underside like I’m eating a popsicle. My mouth goes up over the top, down to the base till he holds me there, lodged deep, and shudders as he comes. A tiny breath is forced from his lungs as he pumps a third round into my throat then goes still.

I gingerly trace my tongue along the sides of his penis as he softly strokes my hair. When I’m done I slide up next to him and put my head on his chest.

“You make me do crazy things,” Jon says, twisting a wave in his free hand.

I tug his shorts up over his exhausted cock and work on the pants. I think that a little crazy is what Jon wants, what Jon needs. Pat even agreed. So I wait for him to come to the same conclusion.

“Maybe that’s why I like you so much,” he finishes.
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We probably aren’t gone twenty minutes. A couple of songs. The bad news is Steph started looking, which meant Duncan and Brent started competing to find us first to impress her. Boys are so juvenile.

“There you are!” Brent yells and we attempt to tip toe in the back door. Jon stops behind me and runs his fingers through my hair, probably trying to rearrange my backseat roll-in-the-hay chic. “You’ve been gone a long time. What were you two doing out there?” he drawls, looking us up and down. Instinctively I adjust my shorts.

“Wow Tazer, you got her out of that thing AND back in? You’re better than I thought!” Duncan announces, coming over. He puts his arm around me and steers us both toward Steph. She’s got a drink for me.

“Where you doing it in his car?!” she whispers. “Officer Toews arrested for public indecency? Chicago would never recover.”

“We were not!” I say, cutting my eyes to make sure Jon can’t hear me spilling secrets. “I couldn’t get this jumpsuit off!” We collapse into giggles, clinking drinks sloppily. I admire Jon over the rim of my glass – his hat is on crooked and his tie is loose, shirt collar open. He really does look like a stripper. And I’m not done with him yet.

I don’t see Pat or Marie, which makes me really mad. If Pat had to leave the party because she’s a tart, I might have to kick her ass. I didn’t even get to hold the Mullet Rabbit. Sure enough, a text on my phone says I’m right.

Pat: Sorry Kat.

I feel bad for Pat instead. He gave Marie a second chance and she took advantage, which makes me mad. Pat can be a douche and he’s made out with half the girls in town, but at least he’s honest about it.

Me: Sorry you. I’ll make you a Match.com profile tomorrow.

“I can’t stop thinking about…” Jon says, his free hand snaking around my waist. I forget about Pat in an instant at the feel of Jon’s fingers on my body. Suddenly I want to leave the party early as well.

“It’s going to be a very late night for you, Officer Toews.” I lead him into the crowded dance floor and flirt with the limits of propriety. Soon I’m wearing his hat backwards and his shirt is open halfway down his chest.

As soon as tactfully possible, we make our exit. First Jon personally thanks every single person working in the club – without ever uncuffing me. I’ve seen him in Captain Serious mode on the ice and at team events, but this is more like a night off and he’s still that guy. The kitchen staff looks like they’ve won the lottery, the bartenders all swoon and the doormen make him promise to come back next weekend. Jon makes their day and he means it. The lights seem to dim for a second, like he’s sucking all the power out of the room. When they return to full strength I’m pretty sure I’m in love.

Jon finally opens the handcuffs before we put on our coats. When he sits in the drivers’ seat, his pants strain across his thighs. I watch openly as he moves his foot from brake to gas and the muscle moves beneath the fabric.

“Are you staring at my crotch?” he asks playfully.

“Nope,” I say, not averting my eyes. “Your legs. I’m saving your crotch for the highway.”

He reaches over and slowly brushes the back of his hand up my leg. His fingers glide over the rise and edge closer to the hem of my shorts, then onto my inner thigh. A shiver passes through me. I lift Jon’s hand and slide his finger gently into my mouth. He shifts in his seat like he can feel it through his whole body. I run his fingerprint over my bottom lip.

“Drive faster,” I say quietly.
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There’s nothing intimidating about pulling up to his house this time. Jon gets the door opens a second before I planned to kick it down. We fall inside and before it’s even closed, he’s unzipping my top.
I throw his police hat into the living room, grab his tie and pull him upstairs.

The bottom four buttons on his shirt are easy marks and I have to stop, mid-kiss, to admire him shirtless in the slivers of light coming through the blinds. I’ve seen him half-naked plenty of times but this is like Christmas morning – I actually get to touch the shiny new toy. He gets impatient with me and yanks down the zipper of my jumpsuit down the rest of the way, then peels it back off my shoulders. His hands run up my bare stomach to cup my breasts and he circles one thumb over the lace covering each nipple. As his fingers draw the straps down, he kisses me again.

“You’re so beautiful, Kat. Katherine,” he says earnestly, looking me in the eye. It’s like a promise.

“Jon,” I can’t help but touch his face. “Thanks for asking, that night, if you could kiss me.”

He smiles as he works the clasp at my back. “You didn’t even hear me.”

“I would have said yes.”

I kiss him then, and a million times more. He steps out of his shoes and I open his belt and push the bottom half of his uniform to the floor. Favorite pants ever, I think. His lips find my bare breasts, making me gasp as he nips at the sensitive skin. It seems like hours before he slides his hands inside the back of my shorts, wiggling the jumpsuit down my hips, but I don’t want to rush him. My mouth follows my fingers across his shoulders, neck and chest. Finally my costume joins the pile on the rug. His hands stay at my ass, tracing the outline of the white thong I’m wearing. He steps back and brushes the backside of his fingers over my lower stomach, tracing the low waistband of my panties.

“I like these,” he whispers, hooking into each side. “Very sexy.” I knew it, I smile. Then they’re gone. His fingers move right to the cleft in my legs, touch my clit and continuing on. I kiss him deeply and he doesn’t hesitate to dip into my wet warmth. I breathe against his neck and reach for his waistband.

“Nope,” he laughs lightly, stepping back from me. “You bribed your way out of jail. I’m going to bribe you into my bed.” He leads me to the bed and stands over me, all chiseled and sculpted in the milky light. Then he pulls my feet till my butt rests on the edge of the mattress and drops to his knees between my legs.

“Jon.” I think I say it before his tongue ever touches my skin. It’s kisses first, inside my knee and along my inner thigh. Then licks. I run my hands through his short hair, encouraging but it seems to make him go slower. When he finally reaches my peach, I’m so ripe I’m about to burst. His tongue presses my button as two fingers slide inside. “Jon,” I say again, louder. He moves his mouth, rubbing my clit with the same wet fingers. Then back again. When I say his name a third time, he bends his fingers inside me. I sob out a breath, losing the words, as he does it again and moves his tongue harder, faster. Seconds later, I twist my hands into the comforter and moan as I come. He doesn’t stop, just goes easy for a few laps until he’s sure I’m really finished.

“Hey,” he says, laying next to me and brushing the hair from my forehead before placing a kiss. Then he kisses my mouth. I move my hand across the blanket to his thigh and follow it up – he’s so hard that when I brush his penis, he hisses. Then he rolls on top of me.

“Hey,” I say back, guiding the tip of his penis to my soaking wet entrance. He kisses me with his eyes open as he presses his cock inside me. “Oh my God.” He takes his time, three or four pushes going midway before stroking himself deep. He’s thick and long, hard as a rock and my body takes a moment to make room for him. Patience is a virtue, I think. I briefly wonder again how long it’s been for him. It’s been long enough for me to have forgotten how good this feels. Or maybe it just never felt like Jon before.

“Kat,” he says softly, breath hot on my neck where I’ll probably have a hickey tomorrow. His hips rise and fall, taking mine with them as he thrusts with increasing force. I hook my ankles over his calves, giving myself the leverage to move with him. His flat obliques are completely tensed under my grip on his sides, so I run my thumbs along the ridges of his abs.

“That… tickles…,” he pants, then gives me a huge push that drives the air and a small string of expletives from my lungs. He laughs, sliding his huge forearm behind my head. As his dick works my body into a puddle of Kat, his brown eyes look right into mine and I see something I’ve never seen before, in all the time I’ve known him. I see Jon – just Jon. No game, no fame, no pressure. No superstardom and nothing to prove. I can’t help but kiss him.

We make love for what seems like hours; steady, sometimes building, but always backing off enough to keep going. To stay together. We mumble compliments but communicate mostly by touch, by kiss. I roll on top of him and move slowly as he smothers my breasts with kisses and explores the landscape of my stomach. He flips me onto my front and lays across my back, the angle taking me along faster that I’d like. Jon seems to relish it, knowing he’s in control. His hand wedges its way down in front of me and tweaks my clit in rhythm with his hips. Pretty soon I’m begging him to finish.

“I am the officer in charge here,” he whispers, but obliges me by ramping up his pace until I’m trembling.

“Jon,” I moan as a hot flash of pleasure rolls through my body. His lips lock onto my bare shoulders, his chest holding me down as he grinds against my orgasm until he finds his own. He groans breathlessly, fingers clenching my hip, and his drains himself inside me.

We lay gasping for a moment before Jon curls onto his side and pulls me against him. His fingers trace the hairline around my ear, tickling my skin. He licks a spot the blows on it to give me the shivers.

“All day off tomorrow,” he says dreamily, letting his hand fall forward to cup my breast. “No gym, no practice… all day.”

“Don’t worry” I promise, “I’ll make sure you get a good workout.”
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