Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
I release him from the stretch. “Would you look at that? You managed to hold that for thirty seconds with only a minimal bitchfest about something.”
“Well, you were crushing my dick, which is trying to react to your nipples, so I think my bitchfest is warranted. Are we done with the torture for tonight?”
I eye his crotch. “I think we’ve probably both had enough.”
He gets up off the floor with only the smallest of grunts. He glances at the clock. “Shit. The game’s starting.” He rolls over the back of the couch and stretches out along the length of it. He grabs the remote from the coffee table, turns the TV on, and flips channels until hockey comes on. Minnesota is playing Vegas, and Seattle is facing off against them next week. It will be Bishop’s first game back on the ice.
“Make yourself comfortable.” I roll up the yoga mat and tuck it away before I head for the kitchen.
“Wanna grab me a beer? There should be a few left in there from the weekend.”
“Anything else you want? Should I make you a sandwich? Maybe a fruit and cheese platter?”
“Nah, I’m good. Maybe later.”
“Obviously you missed the sarcasm.”
He tips his head back and grins widely. “Calm down, I’m kidding.”
I return to the living room with a beer for each of us. Bishop moves his long legs enough for me to sit down and then stretches them out over my lap. It’s his way of not-so-subtly asking me to massage his thighs postsession.
“That fundraiser-event thing at your work is next Saturday, right?”
“Mmm.” I tip my head back and take a swig of my beer, then rest the bottle high up on his thigh, sort of near his junk.
He doesn’t react, just tucks one of his arms behind his head, making the muscles flex. “Is that an mmm, yes?”
“It’s next Saturday. You’ll be coming back from your away series. You’re getting regular massages from the team therapist, and your team PT will make you stretch while you’re away, right? And you’ll use the sauna. I’ll email him later this week.” His team PT and I correspond directly because it’s easier for both of us. Also, I’ve discovered that Bishop will omit information if he’s the one passing it along.
“What time does the thing start?”
“Not until five, but I have to be there early to set up, so we won’t have a session until Sunday.”
“My flight lands at noon on Saturday. What time do you have to leave to help set up?”
“I plan on getting as much done as I can Friday night, but I don’t want to miss the game, so we’ll see. Pattie and Jules are going to help me. We’ll go in early Saturday morning to finish up, and I’ll probably get ready at Pattie’s. It depends on timing and stuff.”
“You wanna take my ride and make it easier on yourself?”
I pause with my beer half an inch from my mouth. “You’re offering to lend me your SUV?”
“You’ve driven it plenty. You don’t have a lead foot, and you can parallel park like a boss. It’s just sitting there otherwise, so why not?”
“Uh, I don’t know, because guys’ cars are like their girlfriends?”
“Mine isn’t. And the tailpipe doesn’t make a very good hole to stick my dick in, since it’s hot but not wet and tight.”
I dig my thumb into the muscle above his knee.
“Ahh! Fuck. Stop!” Bishop flails and grabs my hand. He threads his fingers through mine to keep me from doing it again. “That was nasty and unnecessary.”
“So were the words coming out of your mouth.”
“Whatever. Anyway, back to this work shindig. Is it fully formal or semiformal?”
“Uh, formal, I guess. Suit and tie for guys, nice dress for girls.” I’m going shopping with Pattie and Jules early next week.
“Okay. So since I’m landing at noon, I should be home by, like, one, one thirty at the latest. You can swing by and pick me up at, like, two thirty.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Just sorting out timelines in my head. You can pick me up at two thirty, or whenever is good for you.”
I don’t bother to hide my annoyance at his freaking entitlement. “I already told you, I can’t fit in a PT session that day. I have to get my hair done and do my makeup and maybe even my nails.” I’m not big on self-pampering and that kind of thing, but it’s a formal event, and Pattie and Jules are excited to get all dressed up and looking pretty, so I figure I might as well do it too.
“I’m not asking you to fit in a PT session, Stevie. I’m coming with you to this shindig.”
“Why would you want to come to my work event?”
“Because Douche McFuckhead is going to be there.”
“You don’t want to do that, Bishop. It’s going to be full of amateur athletes. They’ll be humping your leg all night.”