Chapter 7 - About a Boy

My brain is awake before my body, taking stock of the night before. With my eyes still closed I tick off memories of tight pants and back seats and can’t help but smile. The warmth enveloping me starts chuckling. I open one eye halfway.

Jon’s smiling that ridiculous, heart-melting half-smile that can’t decide if he’s embarrassed or amused. His face is pressed to the pillow next to mine, his arm fitted into the curve of my hip. The contrast of fair skin against the dark blue bed sheets makes him glow.

“Morning Kat,” he says, his voice clear.

“Mmmmm,” I say sleepily, burrowing in closer to his chest. As I slide I remember that I’m naked beneath the blankets. “How long have you been awake?”

“Half an hour,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Just watching.”

I haven’t even opened both of my eyes and I certainly haven’t brushed my teeth, but I’m never ever leaving this bed for the rest of my life, so Jon’s going to have to get used to it. I kiss him, giggling silently when he’s surprised and then wrapping my arms around as he rolls on top of me. I don’t remember the details of getting into bed last night – at some point we moved under covers, maybe Jon walked naked across the room and I foolishly missed it. But I remember the important stuff when Jon’s erection throbs enthusiastically against my leg.

“Just waiting, you mean,” I shift beneath him, parting my legs and drawing down against him. He kisses me deeply and I deliriously think I even like his morning breath and the way his short hair is flat on one side from sleeping. Warm fingertips firmly trace the underside of my breast before gently brushing across the hardening nipple. Again he takes his time and I think he’s such a gentleman, waiting to be sure I’m as ready as he is. What else would he be like?

“You haven’t called me your boyfriend in a while,” he says, working his mouth along the curve of my neck.

“I never called you my boyfriend. Captain Boyfriend and the Decoy Date, maybe.”

His lips explore the crest of my collarbone. “What do I have to do,” kiss, “to be considered,” kiss, “for the job?”

“You’re on the right track,” I lick the soft patch of skin behind his earlobe. Only Jon, I think. We’ve had sex once and he needs to officially be my boyfriend. If he were any sweeter, I might actually die.

“So this is like a tryout?” His hard-on inches up my thigh.

“Training camp,” I laugh. “Work hard and you could make the starting lineup.”

The tip of his cock slips between my wet folds and our banter falls away. He goes slowly, like he’s memorizing the landscape. A twitch of his hips takes him completely inside and makes my breath catch. Jon holds still a moment, waiting for me to exhale, then plows the same furrow again. We’re cocooned in the heat of the bed, most of it radiating from his body, barely an inch from where we slept next to each other for the first time. Our movements are slow, almost languid, like when you’re trying not to surface from a powerful dream. His hand slides beneath my ass and I leverage my hips deep into his stroke.

“How am I doing, coach?” he says, punctuating by thrusting me into the mattress.

“Definitely highlight reel material.”

I can hardly bare to take my hands from the miles of smooth, pale skin at his back and shoulders, but his hair is soft beneath my fingers. They run along his scalp, our kiss gains urgency as our tongues entwine. My body grabs at his throbbing cock and he pants against my kiss in appreciation. One push of his massive, powerful legs and he bottoms out inside me.

A tiny squeal is robbed from my body. The low, slow buzz I’ve been feeling since I caught Jon smiling is ramping up to a full electrical current. I press my head back and breathe deeply, trying to concentrate all the sensation into where there’s no space left between us. Jon’s arms are beneath my shoulders, his hands holding me down so he can reach all the way up. His abs flex against mine, pulling away from me as he clenches and absolutely screaming to be touched. He’s a sculpture beneath my fingers – perfect, beautiful, eternal.

My body feels like a drop of water, trembling in midair with only the tiniest anchor to the world. I come like I’m freefalling, sobbing out a cry into the rise of his shoulder. He’s right behind me, grunting out his pleasure before I’m finished, dropping against me seconds later. We’re still, stunned and satisfied, having barely moved at all.

Jon rolls off and I move to get up, to brush my teeth or whatever seems important at the moment. He simply locks his embrace around me.

“Nuh uh,” he mumbles, holding me fast. I give up easily and within minutes, we’re asleep.
____

I’m thirsty. I’m hungry. I’m still ridiculously horny as I wake up on my back with Jon’s naked body wrapped around me from the side. He stirs shortly after me, the room bright as day, and kisses my cheek before he sits like he’s getting up. A slight pause, then he drops back down next to me.

“What?” I ask.

Jon smiles. “I was going to get us some OJ, but I realize you’re between me and my pants.”

“And you’re embarrassed for me to see you naked?”

“No, but… I don’t know!” We laugh. “Hand me my shorts.”

As if. At the same moment, Jon and I both scramble toward the end of the bed. He tries to trap my arms as I kick my way around and reach for the floor. I scream and grab his shorts just as he claws empty air. I throw them under the bed: he’d have to get all the way up to reach them now. Jon’s lying across me, blankets tossed with his bare ass out for all the world to see. I smack it with my open palm.

“Hell no! I want to see the merchandise!”

Jon keeps his front pressed to the blanket as he turns until his face is right in mine. “Call me your boyfriend,” he says. He’s tone is playful but his eyes are completely Captain Serious. It feels so good to be here, at the part where we know we’re really together, so quickly. Because I really want to be together.

“Boyfriend,” I pronounce.

Jon presses down hard, driving the air from my body. “You can do better than that.”

“Jonathan Toews, I’d like to see you naked.” That gets more weight. “Jonathan Toews, I’d like to see you naked carrying orange juice?” That’s not it either. I cannot resist his smile, even to joke. He looks so happy that my heart sings.

“Hello world! This is my boyfriend, Jonathan,” I shout out loud. He nods encouragingly, waiting for more. “He’s sexy as hell and someone named a lake after him. Beat that!” Jon finally relents and lifts off me, push-up style. I’m so mesmerized by his arms that I almost forget to browse the rest of the display. He walks around the foot of the bed.

“Slower!” I say. He struts comically, arms swinging, so I can see every muscle on his body flex. I have to shake my head to clear my blurring vision. He’s got a tan line across his hips, whiter to almost his knees. His chest is filled out, stomach flat but mostly I’m looking at his thighs. He’s got muscled quads all day long and his ass is perfectly sculpted. I don’t even think, I just jump up and block the door.

“Toll booth,” I tease, taking in the full frontal view of his body. Good thing I’ve seen plenty of his face, because I may never look north of his neck again. “Jesus Jon,” my hand reaches itself out for him without asking my brain. “You are perfect.”

His naked self presses me against the bedroom door. I could go again right now, I’m like a cat in heat practically purring from unabashedly admiring every inch of his body. “What’s the toll?” he says breathily into my ear.

It takes everything I have to raise my eyes to his. “Still got those handcuffs?”
____

Jon returns with juice and cereal, which we eat from the box with our hands. I bet he’s never gotten crumbs in his bed before. Halfway through the box, we are swapping Honey Nut Cheerios-flavored kisses and go for round two of the morning. As he moves inside me, I have a very pleasant fantasy about making this part of his workout routine, so he can make me see stars twice a day, every day.

When we’re recovered, he pulls his computer into the bed and shows me pictures from summer with Stanley. There are hundreds from all over the country: his day at home with his family, the lake-naming ceremony, riding in a convertible next to the Cup. The smile of his face never changes. One click reveals a photo of Jon with two Playboy bunnies wearing bodices, ears and tails.

“Oops,” he laughs and hits the button. The next picture is the same, only length-wise. He goes fuchsia. “Sorry!”

“Give me that!” I push him away and page slowly though the folder. There are only two of Jon with the models, then a bunch of Kane and some of the other guys. Sharp and Jon by the pool, Kane lining up shot glasses, Jon and Sidney Crosby each with a drink in their hands at the NHL Awards in Las Vegas. I manage to wheedle out a few stories from the summer, most of them involving Kane and different girls, liquors and modes of transportation. The last batch is from the NHL ’11 Launch event in New York City: the trick-shot competition, the press conference. And then a photo of Jon and Rachel, arm in arm, in Times Square.

“Oh,” he reaches over to page away. “Sorry.”

I let him click, but say, “It’s okay. I’m not one of those girls who expect to be the first person you ever dated.”

His hand pauses above the touchpad. “She’s from New York, our parents were all there and we fought the whole time. She thought I should have invited her for the whole summer, but there was no place for her with most of the stuff we did. Plus we were never public, and I didn’t have the energy to hide her all the time. That would have been so rude anyway… come with me, now stand in the back.” He looks over at me. “I would never ask you to do that, Kat. That’s why I wanted to kiss you at the auction, just get that worst part over with and tell everyone. Well…,” he pauses. “That and I really wanted to kiss you. I would have taken any excuse.”

I kiss his shoulder where his arm is stretched across my lap. “How long were you with her?”

“Two years. But with the seasons and the summer – felt like six months really. It was just so hard to meet someone else, and she was in school… she cheated on me.”

I gasp out loud and instantly cover my mouth. That bitch, I think, my hackles rising as a surge of desire to protect Jon surges through my mind. Break up with him, dump him even, but to cheat on Jon? Seriously bad karma. A look crosses his face so quickly I almost don’t see it – shame, maybe, or regret.

“Sorry, you don’t want to hear all this!” he puts the computer back on the desk. “Plus, that’s over. Old news. Now it’s just you and me in this huge bed and it’s only 11 AM. I haven’t stayed in bed all day since… ever. And there’s a spot over there,” he points across the mattress, “where we haven’t had sex yet.”
____

We eat lunch in his kitchen. He stands at the counter completely naked, making a turkey sandwich. I sit with my chin in my hand and watch him like I paid for it. He glances over his shoulder, catches me staring then the clenches his butt, making the muscles jump. This is insane, I think as I giggle out loud. After lunch, we take a DVD back to bed and curl up in front of his laptop. I fall asleep partway through, too cozy and happy to care what’s happening on screen.

When I wake, it’s in Jon’s arms. He shuts the computer and slides down next to me. “I’ve never taken a naked afternoon nap with a girl before.”

“Better than a naked nap with Kaner, I promise.”

Jon laughs, getting comfortable and pulling the blankets right up over our heads. He whispers in the dark. “Kat?”

“Yeah?”

“So far, you’re the best girlfriend ever.”

I practically melt. “And I’ve only been at it one day.”
____

Jon orders Thai delivery for dinner and puts on a t-shirt and sweats to answer the door. I browse through his closet, select a white button down with blue stripes and roll the sleeves up to my elbows. He’s setting the table when I come in – complete with placemats.

“Good God,” he blushes as he looks at me, like I’ve caught him doing something he shouldn’t. I cross my legs exaggeratedly as I sit, making a mental note that Jon likes all the old-fashioned tricks.

Before two weeks ago, I don’t think I ever let my brain process how beautiful Jon really is. You’d have to be dead not to find Jon handsome, but I never thought he was sexy. As I watch the soft t-shirt stretch with the motion of his shoulders, see the indent at his hip when he reaches for a high shelf, notice how straight the hairline is across his neck, I think it is impossible I was ever around him without getting a fever. It must be all over my face.

“Do you remember the Christmas party last year? You wore that black dress with the low back?” He hands me a plate of food and sits down next across from me. I nod. It had been a really fun night, even when Pat seriously asked me to have a threesome with him and his date.

“That’s the first night I realized you were gorgeous. Not just pretty, like my friend, but you were stunning. I had a crush on you for like two months after that.”

I tilt my head to the side, chewing a spring roll. “Liar. You would never have a crush when you have a girlfriend.”

“You thinking I’m perfect doesn’t make it true. I always wondered a little what my life would be like with someone besides Rachel. For a while, it was you. And I used to think maybe you liked me too. Remember on New Years when you and Steph crashed here after Sharp’s birthday party?”

Uhhhh, I nod but would prefer to forget. We had gotten spectacularly drunk and even the Blackhawks couldn’t get taxis after midnight. When we finally got a minivan, the driver refused to make more than two stops. We disgorged half our party at Kane’s and the three of us had come back to Jon’s. In his less-than-destroyed state, Jon sat on the bathroom floor with me, talking nonsense until the wee hours while we waited to see if my stomach would settle. Eventually we’d fallen asleep, leaning against each other sitting across from the toilet.

“Not my finest moment,” I admit.

He smiles like it’s a fond memory. “I was almost drunk enough to kiss you. If you hadn’t been about to barf, I might have.”

Easy to say, I think. Jon might like to think he’d take a chance, be romantic and dangerous, but I don’t believe him. “What about Rachel?”

“It was New Years. Do you remember her being here? She was visiting someone in NY while you were lying in my bathtub, trying to get me to teach you to speak Canadian.”

“How come you stayed with her?” Not that he would have been with me, but I’d always thought Jon and Rachel were pretty strong up until the spring.

He shrugs. “She already planned to come to the Olympics. I thought two weeks there would be good for us. We had some fun, but mostly she wanted to do everything and wouldn’t work around my schedule at all. I saw her there about as much as here. When we won, she was over the moon – she couldn’t give up a curling match to hang out, but she sure loved me when we had the gold. I think that was the beginning of the real end.” He looks up at me. “You would have loved it there.”

“I would have died. I screamed so loud when Crosby scored that the FBI put me on a watch list. I’m probably not allowed to go to Canada, they have my picture at border control.”

“You’re definitely not allowed near Crosby. My rules. Do you remember the text you sent me when we won?”

“Was it about Crosby?”

“For once, no. I had a hundred messages but yours was in the top 5 best. It said: I just peed in my Norweigan curling pants,” Jon laughs. “But then we played the Caps two weeks later and you wouldn’t shut up about Mike Green. Oh my God, he’s so cute,” he imitates my voice. “I knocked him on his ass in that game because I knew you didn’t like me after all.”

“He is really cute,” I say as Jon throws a napkin. “You don’t play them till March this year.”

“Good,” he says, pushing his empty plate away. “Plenty of time to convince you how much better I am.”
____

Jon hands me an extra toothbrush, still in its package. Of course he has one, I think. He probably has a Boy Scout-issue first aid kit and canned food in case of a snowstorm. Snowstorm would be kinda nice, I’d never have to leave. When I’m done rinsing, Jon puts my toothbrush in the holder next to his.

Only the desk lamp is on in his room. He takes his shirt off like he does it ten times a day, not like he’s revealing a masterpiece to an awestruck crowd. He fails to notice he’s turning me into a puddle. I run my hands down his muscular back and don’t stop when I reach the waistband of his sweatpants. Enough of this slow, gentle stuff. I want him now.

He almost turns too fast, catching himself up as he kicks his feet free. His mouth is on mine in an instant. Almost as fast, his hands slide up my thighs and under the borrowed shirt. My fingers trail across the soft line of hair below his belly button and down to wrap around the start of his erection. He returns the favor by slipping a hand between my legs and testing the waters, gently at first then with more ambition when he finds me wet. He’s already mostly hard in my hand.

“Kat,” he says huskily. If he’s asking for my permission, he won’t get it. I want him to know he can take whatever he wants. We’re pawing at each other, hands everywhere - the light doesn’t get any more green than this.

Jon catches on quickly: he flattens me against the wall and pulls my right knee up along his side, then guides his dick to my sweet spot and he dives right in. At the same time, he covers my lips and swallows my short, sharp cry. I dig my nails into his skin and wonder if the guys will notice the marks in the locker room.

He drives his cock into my hot, slick core, locking me up between his body and the wall. I stretch onto my tiptoes, making it easy for Jon to draw out almost all the way, to the ridge on his head, my body feeling robbed of his thick, delicious pressure. He pounds back in and it feels better every time. The pace is frantic and my heart beat rings like a tuning fork until he strikes it again.

“Jon,” I sob as an orgasm bursts and floods my system with stars. I tilt my head back, thankful Jon is holding me up or I’d surely collapse. He plunges into my ruined body, milking it until it can give me no more sensation. Only then does he moan into my neck and empty himself deep inside me. We stand there, fitted together and trembling, with hands and hair twisted as if we are a photograph of ourselves in action.

“Wow,” he finally exhales.

“Captain Wow,” I agree.
____