Clusterpuck (Vegas Crush #9)

37. Rah-Rah Culture

37 /

rah-rah culture

Lila

“What do you think?” I ask as we wave to the throngs of people lining the Strip for a celebratory parade in honor of the Crush’s championship season.

Tripp looks out at the crowds and says, “You know, I thought this place was so weird when I got here.”

“I remember.”

“I couldn’t imagine caring about any of these people, and I sure didn’t want any part of their rah-rah culture.”

“And here you are now, riding on a float through the Vegas Strip, beloved for all time as the guy who scored the cup-winning goal in game five of the Stanley Cup Finals.”

“Whatever, babe. I could do without all this hoopla, but it’s fine. It’s not about me.”

“What a mature outlook that is, sir,” I say, squeezing his hand.

“See, I can be a grown-up.” He gives me a cheeky grin.

Laura and Grant are on the float in front of us, along with Viktor and Scarlett. Laura turns around and waves at me, her smile wide. I’m going to miss her now that my internship is over. She’s become a true friend—almost like an older sister, really, but also a great mentor. I’ve learned a ton from her. And from Grant, too. His wife, Devon, and their twins are on the float with us and I can’t help but be so proud of my grandfather, who built this team and helped shape it into the legacy that it has become.

A legacy that will, in time, be mine to protect.

I’m a big crybaby these days. Damn pregnancy messing with my hormones. Tripp asks if I’m okay as tears slip down my cheeks.

“It’s just a lot. I’m proud of everyone.”

He snorts in response, knowing how easily I cry these days.

Once we finish the festivities, we head back to his cottage, where we’re staying until it’s time to move to Ohio. It’s a pretty basic two-bedroom little house. Nothing fancy, nothing on the walls. The furniture came with it. I don’t know how Tripp has lived like this, but he’s resolved to allow me to decorate our place in Ohio. Where we’ve actually bought a house, mainly because most of the area rentals were for the standard undergraduate population. Read: Disgusting. He’s got contractors in and out already, updating the place so we can have a blank slate once we arrive.

“Thank fuck that’s over,” he says, loosening his tie as we step inside. “Literally nobody would’ve noticed if we hadn’t been there.”

“Stop it.” I smack his arm. “They would, too.”

He pulls me to him, kissing along my neck in a way that makes me wish we had stayed back at the cottage. I moan and he nips at my ear with the graze of teeth.

“I’m so huge,” I say, hands on my ever-growing belly. “How can you stand it?”

“How can I stand it? Well, babe, there’s the most beautiful little baby in the world underneath that belly, and I think you look hotter than ever.”

“Point for sucking up, but seriously.”

“I am being serious,” he insists. “Come to bed with me.”

“It’s six o’clock.”

“Not to sleep.” He’s wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me.

Taking my hand, he leads me to our bedroom, which is my favorite space in the cottage. The bed is comfortable, and the windows let in a lot of natural light.

“You know the drill,” I say as I sit back on the bed, holding out my feet so he can help me take off my shoes. “Ugh. I have cankles, mister. What about that is in any way sexy?”

Tripp just chuckles as he pulls my shoes off and starts to rub my feet.

I moan and lie back, all belly-to-the-sky. “You know where I like it.”

After a few moments, I ask him a question I’ve been dying to know the answer to. “Are you sad about not playing anymore?”

“Nope,” he answers confidently in true Tripp fashion. “I was ready after I left Anaheim. I really was. This was a bonus and, arguably, one of my best professional years ever.”

“I think you made the most of it. I hear some of the younger guys really look up to you now.”

He huffs an amused sound. “I kinda wish I’d been less of an ass throughout my career.”

“Hindsight,” I say.

“Twenty-twenty.”

“Well, you get the chance to make up for it by being a good dad.”

Tripp stands and leans over to kiss me, his hands intertwining with mine. “You know, I owe you a real wedding after the baby is born.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. At St. Michael’s in Toronto where we were both christened. Where our baby will be christened someday. With our families and real guests and real vows. And no vampires.”

I giggle at the memory. “Well, the wedding night was pretty fun, as I recall.”

He leans in for a long, lingering kiss. “Mmm. It was fun. Thank God you were already pregnant or I might’ve gotten you pregnant.”

“You wanna get me pregnant again at some point in the future?” I’m grinning because we’ve already talked about this.

“Yes. I. Do.”

He pushes my skirt over my belly, down my legs, tossing it to the floor with a flourish. Sliding my legs open, he kisses the insides of my thighs, inching upward and upward until his breath is hot outside of my panties. I groan and wiggle, begging him not to tease me.

“Fingers or tongue?” he asks.

“Both,” I say quickly. “Both, please.”

“Please?” He starts pulling my panties away.

“ Please , Tripp.”

He makes a noncommittal noise, taking his time, tracing my inner thighs with his fingertips. He touches my clit lightly and I cry out, needing more. He’s such a rogue, his sandy hair and permanent five o’clock shadow so rugged and masculine. His blue eyes are crystalline, shining with mischief as he finally, blessedly, pushes two fingers inside of me, a wry smile on his face.

“So ready,” he murmurs as he dips between my legs, his tongue working a rhythm against my clit, already aching and needy.

I grasp futilely at the bedspread, trying to find something to hold on to, something to help me leverage myself against him. I want more, and deeper, and harder. I feel myself cresting toward orgasm, but I want him inside of me when I come. I beg him again and he ignores me, letting me fall over the edge as he works my pussy and clit with fingers and tongue and even gentle bites of teeth.

Only after I’ve found a first release does he move to help me flip over onto hands and knees on the bed. He peels away his clothing and slips between my legs from behind. I sigh as he fills me. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how this feels with Tripp inside me.

A broad, strong hand cups one of my breasts as he starts to move. I push myself back against him, wanting him deep inside of me. He won’t go hard, not now that I’m so far along in my pregnancy. I think he worries that I’ll break, or that something will happen to the baby. It’s cute, but I want him. I want more.

“Harder, Tripp,” I plead.

He pushes harder, but I can tell he’s still holding back, so with a growl, I pull away, turning to face him, pushing him to his back. He laughs and calls me greedy as I mount him, taking control.

He maneuvers us both so that he’s sitting at the head of the bed. My belly takes up so much space between us, but he manages to work around it, his mouth finding my breasts. I can’t stop the nonsensical sounds that come from the back of my throat. The sensation of his mouth and his hands and his cock—it’s all too much and never enough at the same time. My clit is throbbing, and my sex pulsates, hungry as I ride him, my hands in his hair, my head thrown back with abandon. I come and come and come, each orgasm longer and stronger than the last.

Finally, Tripp says, “Fuuuck, can’t hold on,” and he lets out an inhuman bellow as his orgasm rips through him, filling me.

As I slow my movements, I put my forehead against his, our breath heavy and labored. He kisses me softly.

“I love you so much, Lila. So much.”

My throat tightens and my eyes burn. Why does every time feel like the first? Every time we make love. Every time he reminds me that he loves me. It always feels new and special and amazing.

“Are you going to cry again, you big softie?” he teases.

“No.” I turn my head so he can’t see.

“Liar.” A seductive whisper brushes against the sensitive skin of my neck.

I move a little, testing to see if he wants to go again. He’s semi-hard already. I slip free and move between his legs, taking him in my mouth, tasting the salt of his orgasm, the musky sweetness of mine. He groans, stroking the base of his cock as I lick and suck him until he’s fully erect again.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he breathes, pulling me so that I’m on my side. I lift my leg to give him access and he slips back inside, his hand finding my clit again as he moves, ever so slowly. His fingers are wet as he moves his hand, up to my belly, further up to my breasts. We’re so close, it feels like we’re one person.

As he picks up the pace, I touch myself. “Yeah, that’s it. Make yourself come for me,” he orders.

I oblige, my hips jutting as I come again. It makes my head spin; it feels so impossible.

When we’re both spent, we lie together, his hand on my belly, fingertips tracing a lazy pattern on my skin.

“Do you think she’s like, What the heck are you two doing? ” Tripp asks.

It makes me laugh. “I’m not sure. But I would tell her that her parents love each other very much.”

“They certainly do.” He’s quiet for a moment, but then says, “Will you marry me again? Properly this time?”

I don’t even have to think about it.

“Yes. A thousand times, yes, Tripp Blackburn.”