Soundtrack: If only I had the guts to feel this way. If only she'd look at me and want to stay. - Hanson, "If Only"
Jordan drove them to the airport. Sidney was on a flight within an hour of theirs. “Please bring her back,” Jordan said to Kris. “It’s very boring around here without Ginger.”
They passed through security, Max making a scene as Sid pulled his ball cap down low and tried to hide his face. There was no line for the first class screener and no one noticed the famous Mr. Crosby.
“One month, at my place,” he said, shaking the guys’ hands. Then he gave Ginger a hug. “Bring Dani, eh?”
Kris took the window seat and immediately lifted the armrest so Ginger could sit close to him. Max rolled his eyes and ordered a drink. They’d barely gotten into a television show before they were touching down in Montreal. They loaded into Max’s car and half an hour later pulled up in front of Kris’ house.
“If you two can stop humping for an hour, give me a call,” Max smiled lewdly.
Ginger stopped in Kris’ entryway. Kris turned to see her looking around the place.
“It’s weird to be here and not be at my house,” she said. Then she smiled. “It’s not half as nice as this!”
“Show me your place later. But first…,” Kris let go of his bag and took her hand. They passed through the house. “Living room, kitchen, bathroom,” he tossed his head toward each room on the list without slowing a step. Until he got upstairs.
“This is your room,” he said.
The master bedroom was the entire second floor of the house. The walls on either side had large windows, bathing the space in natural light. The far wall was covered by an entertainment center – large flat screen TV, low dark dresser flanked by two bookcases. A few framed photos were scattered among the books and DVDs. The bulk of the room was dedicated to a low king size platform bed with a dark cherry wood headboard. The walls were light gray, the carpet charcoal. A deep red down comforter was tossed haphazardly across the bed. For a bachelor pad it was pretty neat.
“I bought everything in the picture in the catalog,” Kris admitted as she took in the spread. “I just said, ‘Page 27’, please.”
Ginger turned into his arms. “Somehow it’s still you. I like it.”
She touched a kiss to his lips and drew him toward the bed. As their mouths touched, Kris began unbuttoning her blouse. She whipped his t-shirt off with a laugh. He went for her bra. Seconds later, they were naked and rolling around on that crimson duvet.
“We are developing a new training regimen for hockey players,” she said, rolling on top of him. She leaned down and Kris pushed her up by the shoulder like he was bench pressing. He brought her in close, kissed her quickly then lifted again. She watched the muscles in his arms coil and spring.
“We’ll make a detailed plan and send your friend over to Crosby’s with it,” Kris said, attempting to lift her with one arm and failing. She dropped onto the bed next to him. “He needs to get laid a lot more often.”
Ginger put her palm up and Kris pushed against it. She tried to counter the weight, but he was at least a hundred times stronger. He kept pushing until she was flat on her back. He wedged one knee between hers and swept her thighs open. Ginger licked her palm and ran it over the head of his penis.
“He’ll have to figure this part out on his own though,” Kris said, his mouth close to her ear as he slid into her folds. She gasped slightly, like it was better than she remembered. Like she’d been waiting all day just to feel him. Kris hid his smile in her hair.
“Kris,” she said softly, grabbing onto his back and aligning herself beneath him. He dipped all the way in, unlocking the space inside her body. She breathed his name a second time.
This is my house, he thought. Well, my second house. I’m halfway there. Kris pictured Ginger tossed out on his bed in Pittsburgh, heard her squeaks and sighs of pleasures in the place where he’d always felt like something was missing. He spent 8 months of the year coming and going from that house, but it never really felt like home. He thought of Ginger in the kitchen, making breakfast like she had at Jordan’s. Ginger asleep with a book on her chest when she tried to wait up for his late night return flight. Ginger waiting for him outside the locker room after a tough loss. Halfway there.
Kris’ mind wandered, but his body still held full attention. He moved Ginger’s ankles from where they were pressed into his sides and he pushed her legs down flat. He shifted so his legs were aligned atop the length of hers. With his hands at her sides, he started moving up and down her body. Ginger felt it immediately. Not only was he reaching great lengths inside her, but the motion of his body rolled her clit up and down. She grabbed on, moving him more steadily. Stimulation on two fronts was making her world wobble. She tilted her hips to bring more of his body against her hot button. Kris responded by strengthening his movements, pressing into her until she sobbed out a breath. Her hands were in his hair.
“Plus fort,” she whispered.
“Oui,” he almost laughed at the times she decided to use French. He made a mental note to teach her some really dirty things when her fingernails bit into his soft skin.
“Ahhhh,” she twisted against the sheet. Kris went deep, then still, and stayed there as she ground her orgasm out on him. He sank into the feeling of her body growing warmer around his thick cock, kicking himself for letting his mind wander when all he wanted was right here begging for him. She sighed and brushed hair from his face. Now he was back in the game.
“I want to hear that noise from you every day,” he said as she tucked a shaggy lock behind his ear.
“What, no more screaming?” she pulled his face in for a kiss. Kris smiled against her lips.
His hands fit easily around her calves as he bent her knees until they were almost touching her chest. He kneeled before her and looked down at himself, disappearing inside her glistening pussy. His cock was twitching with fullness, his body asking for release he didn’t want to give. He wanted to stay like this forever, Ginger satisfied and at his mercy while he took his pleasure from her gorgeous body.
Ginger sensed that Kris was appreciating her in a new way. When all you’ve had is sex for four days, I guess you can learn a lot about someone. He bit his lip in concentration, like he was trying to memorize the way she felt. Now that she was here, in his house, she wondered how it was possible to have moved in orbit so close to Kris for years and never know him. They never met in a bar or bookstore in Montreal, though she’d spent plenty of the off-seasons here. She’d never visited Jordan, Kris hadn’t come to Jordan’s day with the Cup. So many circumstances could have changed to bring Kris into her life sooner. Or to keep him out of it forever.
A single bead of sweat dripped from Kris’ chin onto her cheek. She met his eyes and saw lust mixed with gratitude and fear. It was how she felt. He kissed her, hard, as he came.
“Aagghh!” she screamed and rolled off the pool chair, out from under Max’s very sweaty body.
“Bonjour!” Max shouted, stretching out in the space she had just vacated by falling into the grass.
Ginger sat up. “Do you wax? How is it possible you have that little chest hair?”
Kris stepped over Max’s discarded t-shirt in the doorway and came into the yard. Ginger took one look at him and jumped to her feet. His shirt was plastered to his body with sweat, his hair wet enough to stay out of his face for once. She glued her body to his and tasted the salt on his lips as they kissed.
Max shielded his eyes with one hand. “That’s what I was after!”
Kris ditched his top and kicked off his sneakers, then jumped into the pool. Max joined him and Ginger reclaimed her chair.
“So, what have you two been doing all week?” Max asked. “Oh wait, I could hear you from my house half an hour away.”
That was, in fact, what they’d been doing all week.
“I’m surprised Kris can run,” Ginger said honestly.
“It was not pretty,” Kris laughed.
“I wonder which one is yours,” Ginger said as Kris’ huge Penguins duffel bag rolled off the conveyor. It had been ten days and they were back in Ontario. This time Kris had all his training gear.
Jordan picked them up at the curb. “Okay slacker, I’m going to kick your ass into shape!”
They drove to Ginger’s house – her parents were away for the week. Kris left his duffel in the living room and brought just his suitcase upstairs. As he stood in her room, there seemed to be even more mirror than he remembered. The entire way along one side of the room, parallel to the bed. He blushed involuntarily and wondered if a week would be enough for even half of the things he was thinking about.
“You’re going to look very good naked in front of all that mirror,” she said, coming up behind him. Her instinct was to slam the door and start on page one of the Kama Sutra right then. Jordan must have been psychic.
“Keep your pants on for ten minutes,” he barged in, interrupting both of their x-rated inner monologues. “Come on Tanger, Ginger is not the kind of workout you need right now.”
Ginger kicked her heels against the crate she was sitting on in the Staal’s barn. Kris and Jordan wore hockey gloves and took turns shooting pucks at a series of targets painted on a plywood board. Whenever they hit one, they tallied another beer the other person had to buy after dinner. She’s been in here a million times, since they were little and Jordan said, “Watch this!” before every single shot. It wasn’t till he was almost 10 that he could even hit the target board from the line. By the time he was 13, he could almost knock it over.
When they were 16, Ginger and Jordan had broken the rules and hidden in the barn during a particularly hardcore snowball fight. Marc and Jared stalked around outside, hurling missiles at each other. Ginger ducked into their favorite hiding spot, between a tractor and the far wall, where it was almost dark. Jordan, already a giant, had contorted himself in alongside her. He took up 90% of the space. The barn smelled of sawdust from the new boards cut to ring the homemade hockey rink outside.
Ginger took off her gloves and blew warm air onto her frozen fingers. Jordan did the same then wrapped his hands around Ginger’s. He was still gangly, almost new to his oversized body, and one of his hands could have fit both of hers. As he worked to restore the feeling in her fingertips, he leaned down and breathed into their cupped hands. The space was suddenly much too small. Their faces were inches apart. Without realizing he was squeezing her hand, Jordan leaned in and kissed Ginger on the lips.
They lingered. Just for a few seconds, maybe ten, mouths touching gently. Then it struck them both at the same time. They gasped and tried to step away from each other. Ginger hit the wall, Jordan hit the tractor and they bounced back into each other.
“Jordan!” she whispered sharply.
“Sorry,” he said, still looking stunned. “I…”
“It’s okay,” she said when she saw the look on his face. He hadn’t planned that. “You just surprised me.”
He slowly smiled. “You kinda kissed me back.”
“I did not.”
“Oh yeah, you kissed me.” The grin was huge now and Ginger knew, somehow, things had changed.
Ginger snapped out of her memory as a loud crack split the air. Jordan had knocked the corner clean off the target board. He did a little victory dance.
“Did you see that?!” he demanded.
“Uhhhh…” she actually blushed.
Jordan put his hand on the end of his stick and rested his chin on his glove. “You’re thinking about the time you kissed me in here, aren’t you?”
Kris spun around, his eyes wide.
“You kissed me!” she shouted.
“That’s still your story?” Jordan laughed. “Okay Ginger, I kissed you. But you didn’t punch me. When I used to pull your hair, or give you wet willies, you always punched me. So you must have liked it.”
Kris was smiling too now, at the embarrassed look on Ginger’s face. Jordan turned to his friend.
“The first, last and only kiss I ever stole from Ginger was right over there. Spent the next five years trying to get another. Guess I have to give up now.” Jordan looked wistfully around the barn. “I should bring another girl here. They go for this nostalgia stuff, right?”
Ginger barely touched her empty pint glass to the table before another materialized, filled to the brim. Jordan put down a pitcher between them, almost sloshing out a wave of beer. Kris let go of Ginger’s hand under the table and started on his drink.
“Round three,” Jordan announced. Three pitchers, three people. Ginger knew she was going to lose this fight.
“Not fair, you can drink like ten times more than I can,” she protested, licking her lips. She was pretty fuzzy already and trying to concentrate on not having to pee.
“No matter how drunk you get me, I am not having a threesome with you,” Jordan said.
Okay, I am drunk, Ginger was sure the smile in her mind was all over her face. Because that sounds pretty awesome right now.
Kris was giving her a look that said You are unbelievable. But he was kidding. She leaned over close to him and stage-whispered:
Her hand squeaked against the glass, giving her nothing to hold onto. Ginger wondered how soundly these mirrored doors were anchored to the track on the ceiling. They were rocking pretty good now.
They’d taken a cab home, only Jordan’s presence keeping them from being caught on transit camera in a compromising backseat position. They ran up the drive and dove through the front door.
Kris grabbed Ginger, in his drunkenness forgetting to be careful. He hauled her in close. With surprising gentleness, he moved his hands up her sides and rubbed the pads of his thumbs against her nipples, through her shirt. It took thirty seconds, but he didn’t stop until they were fully hard and poking through the fabric. As he traced around them, he felt Ginger’s body humming with anticipation.
Mirrors, he reminded himself. It was the only reason not to go to town on her right here inside the front door. She threw the lock and led him upstairs. There was no question what he wanted. Ginger stood between the mirror and the bed. Kris surprised himself by taking the chair at her desk. She got the idea.
Slowly, she lifted the hem of her tank top, drawing it up the taut skin of her stomach. He saw the curve of her waist, the definition along her abs. The shirt crossed her chest, revealing a bright blue bra with light blue trim. One long arm extended over her head and she made sure to stretch high as she pulled the shirt over her hand. She spun it around one finger and tossed it at him. Then she hooked her fingers in the waistband of her black shorts and ran them along the inside, brushing her own skin. With a flick, the button was open. The zipper came down with exquisite slowness. She folded them open to reveal a sliver of matching panty, but then she quickly spun around. Looking at Kris’s reflection over her shoulder, Ginger gently tugged her shorts down over her ass, revealing her underwear inch by inch. The bikini bottoms had cut-out portions at the hips, webbed with lace. The shorts hit the floor.
Mon dieu, he wouldn’t remember thinking later.
Ginger turned back toward Kris, wearing only lingerie. He made to stand, but she held out a single, flat hand. He sat back down. Ginger reached behind her back and unsnapped the clasp. She held the cups to herself and shook the straps loose from her shoulders, then peeled the bra off and tossed it at Kris. He caught it one-handed without moving his gaze. She slid her hands down her stomach, catching just under her panties. Slowly shifting from side-to-side, she slid them down over her hips. When they were just north of the main attraction, she turned again toward the mirror. Kris could clearly see her front and back as she dragged the thin fabric over the rise of her ass. His eyes were elsewhere as the satin fluttered to the ground.
Ginger met his eyes in the mirror. Gotcha, she knew.
Kris practically ripped his clothes off, almost tripping on his shorts in his haste to get to Ginger. As quickly as he got there, he leaned her against the dresser and then took his time running his hands from her breasts to her bare thighs. His fingers moved as slowly as honey pours. Ginger’s breath caught in anticipation.
With a hand on either hip and barely an inch between them, Kris put his lips to hers. Like a circuit being completed, the current caught fire. Her hands grabbed at his hair, his flesh, his muscles. Kris felt lightheaded. He managed to gasp before taking his mouth to her neck. Ginger’s hands were stroking his already hard length as she whispered his name.
Pressed against the side of the wooden dresser, Kris moved Ginger’s feel apart. He swiped a finger through her wetness as she used a hand to spread her lips for her. When he pushed into her, almost lifting her from her feet, Ginger let out a throaty giggle.
Kris looked to his left and caught his breath. The dresser started where the glass ended and they were fully visible in the mirror. He saw the flex of her feet as she tried to balance on tip toes. She saw the small, half moon-shaped scar on at the side of his knee. Ginger used one hand to brush the hair from his face, ensuring him a full view. Then she lifted a leg over his hip and dropped down onto his cock.
Kris moaned. Ginger rose again and drew him up inside her. Then down, bringing her foot to the floor. He watched the curve of her calf muscle as she supported herself on one foot, rocking into his lap with all her weight. She pulled him in for a kiss and he forgot everything.
He bent his knees, forcing his dick father into her pussy. She felt his thighs contracting between hers, his strength impressive even when she could barely remember her name. Her soft skin glided against his like silk. She caught a glimpse of his flexed ass in the mirror and nearly fainted. Kris caught her around the middle and moved them to the floor.
He laid her down, then settled himself between her legs. She was dripping wet and his cock throbbed with the ache of being outside her body. He eased himself back in, watching in the mirror as his erection disappeared inside her hot core. Ginger turned her face toward him and smiled.
“Do that again,” she purred.
Kris did it again a hundred times. Ginger lifted her legs up straight and settled her ass on Kris’ knees. He held her ankles near his head as he slid in and out of her, one hand tracing along her outer thigh. Then she moved her head closer to the mirror, spread her legs in a V and Kris watched like they were starring in their own private movie. He was so hard it hurt and he wanted so badly to come, but he didn’t want this to end. Ginger sobbed out a breath as he pushed himself in balls deep and held.
She caught his eye in the mirror and smiled devilishly. “Tell me what you want,” she breathed. “I know you’ve been thinking about these mirrors for weeks.”
Kris laughed and it almost broke his concentration, almost made him orgasm. He had been thinking about these mirrors. Now he was embarrassed.
Ginger twisted her hips, her hot walls lapping at him. “Do I need to remind you that I propositioned you while you were jerking off? Whatever you thought of, I guarantee I thought of it first.” She shifted again, almost squeezing him off.
“Show me,” she said.
Kris dropped onto her like he was doing a pushup. He lifted his chest and hips at the same time, putting all the weight of his body behind his thrust. Ginger moaned, hitched as he bottomed out and then moaned again. She pinched and rolled her nipple between two fingers. Kris became overwhelmed with the desire to bite her.
She was panting by the time she told him, “Yes Kris, yes.”
He pounded home a few more hard shots, each time earning a squeal of pleasure from Ginger. By now his body was moving on it’s own, all the energy contained inside him was rocketing into his lap. Without another thought of inhibition, he did what he’d wanted to do for days. He sat up and in full view of himself and Ginger, pulled out and came on her body. His load arced up slightly and splashed down between her breasts. A trail dropped across her stomach, milky against her tan, warm and musky.
“Touch me,” she begged. She wasn’t done quite yet. Kris stroked two fingers around the length of her slit then slid them inside. With his thumb, he tweaked her swollen clit. Instantly her back arched. As her pussy pulled at him, she squealed out an long, involuntary sob. He bent and curled, milking her right through climax. When she finally sank to the rug, his hand was soaked.
“Holyshit,” she gasped like it was one word. Kris picked up his t-shirt and wiped his contribution from her skin. She was trembling. “Dear God, I’ve been sleeping in this room for 20 years and never even had a dream that good.”
“Porn star,” he laughed as he lay next to her, arm across her sticky stomach, face in her hair.
Ginger sat on the couch, Jordan’s laptop balanced on her knees. It was a rare rainy day for the summer and Kris and Marc had been working out in Marc’s gym.
“Whatcha doin?” Jordan asked, taking a chair and a bite of an apple.
Ginger’s reflex was to closer her browser, but she stopped just short. “I am looking at schools in Pittsburgh.” She raised her eyes to him, a concerned look on her face. “Should I be?”
“So Tanger’s got you coming to the ‘Burgh,” Jordan chewed slowly. “It’s nice there, G. You’d like it.”
“But what? Are you going to be happy in Montreal alone? Knowing you could have been with him instead?” He shook his head. “Give in, Ginger.”
Ginger shook her head. That much was obvious and not the problem. “But I have to decide now. Transfer deadline for Pitt is in 6 days. Once it’s past, I’m stuck. What if I do the transfer and we fall apart? I have to make this decision and I’ve still only known him for like two weeks.”
“Talk to him about it. Everything will be fine. And if not, I’ll still be there. It would be nice to have you around all the time, a little piece of home.” Jordan palmed the apple core. “And a nice piece of ass, if I haven’t been clear. I will take Kris’ sloppy seconds, don’t you worry.”
Ginger threw a couch pillow at him and laughed. “Jordan, I could do a lot worse than you.”
He smiled. “And my brothers don’t live in Pittsburgh.”
Ginger was still on the couch when Kris came in. He’d showered and changed at Marc’s. Raindrops glistened on the shoulders of his jacket.
“Want to go out for dinner?” he asked.
Now or never, she thought. Ginger changed into a cute beaded top and Capri pants, slipped on flats and some makeup. It’s fine. He wants me there. I want to be there. It’ll be great. They picked a nearby vegetarian place and ordered noodles. Ginger’s nerves made her stomach flutter, so she had a ginger ale. Kris laughed when she ordered it, his nose crinkling. Oh God.
“I wanted to talk to you about…” she started.
“About moving to Pittsburgh?” he finished her thought. She was momentarily speechless. He smiled.
“Do you want to move?” he asked.
She looked at her plate. “I want to be with you.”
“And I want to be with you.” His hand was on her arm. “I will wait for you, if you don’t want to move. You can finish school then maybe come to Pittsburgh after. If you want.”
She met his eyes and saw a little fear. He couldn’t wait, didn’t want to wait. He was offering because he knew she was scared too. But not being together would be the worst possible thing.
“I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to be away.”
That smile was back. “Me neither,” he said, relieved. “Can you transfer schools?”
She nodded. Five days left.
Kris knew this was his chance. He ignored the turning in his gut. “Is it too much if I ask you to live with me? Then you won’t have to worry about a place and mine is really nice, it just doesn’t feel like home yet and you know we’re away a lot, so you’d have plenty of time to study and it’s near Pitt so you wouldn’t have to go far and…”
“Kris,” she interrupted. “I would love to live with you.”
He forgot his manners and kissed her across the table. Dishes clanked together and Ginger held her glass upright as she met his lips and sealed their deal. Then she laughed.
“You know this is crazy, right? Who moves in together after two weeks?!”
Kris shook his head. “Who follows someone upstairs at a party?”