Off Season(6)

Yes, we talked about it all… taking breaks in between our colloquy to start kissing and caressing again, punctuated with deep groans and satisfied smiles when it was all said and done.

Damn, but I’m feeling all out of sorts when it comes to Zane Kavanaugh. My well-laid plan to get in, get laid, and get out doesn’t seem to be working.

I click on his email and open it up.



To: IrishLass1990@dubire.com (Cady Dunne)

From: IceCoyote46@bizfire.com (Zane Kavanaugh)

Subject: Regrets Are Subjective Anyway

Date: August 29, 2014



Cady,

I realized shortly after you left that maybe there was, in fact, one regret that I might have. And that was in not asking for a way to contact you. I know that sounds weird, seeing as how I live in the States and you live in Ireland, but I figured… we might not be able to see each other, but why can’t we remain friends and keep in contact?

While I fucking loved having my face between your legs and being buried balls deep inside of you multiple times, I also realize that I really liked talking to you. You’re a cool girl, Cady Dunne, and as such… my only real Irish friend. If that makes me sound like a girl, I hope that doesn’t turn you off. If instead it makes me seem very mature, and you’d like to keep up with each other, I say let’s go for it.

The hockey season will be starting soon, and life will be crazy for me. I don’t have any real close friends outside of my teammates, and my time is always limited between practices, games, and travel, but I know I’d always have some time to keep up with how you’re doing.

So yeah… regrets are subjective, and I’ve decided to wipe out that one regret I had. I got your email from Linc and so I am reaching out. Ball is in your court, Irish Lass. You now have my email. If you ever get adventurous, my cell phone is 602-555-1448. Your sweet Irish accent would not be hard to listen to.

Take care,

Zane



As soon as I finish reading, I realize my palms are damp with sweat and my adrenaline is spiking through me. How can I feel such a moment of thrill and elation just from reading an email?

My cheeks heat as I read back through it again, imagining the way his face was, in fact, between my legs. He went down on me as soon as he shut my bedroom door and divested me of all my clothing. He was like a tornado, his hands whipping all around me as he pulled everything off. He was still fully clothed when he pushed me down onto the bed, spread my legs, and brought his mouth to me.

It was the first, but not the last time, that I had screamed out, thankful that Linc and Ever’s bedroom was on the other end of the house. Zane growled in approval over my vocal demonstration and attacked me with his lips and tongue. I came for the second time supremely fast, my thighs clamping onto his head and probably strangling the poor man as he gently licked at me as I fell off my high.

God, he was amazing in bed. I’ve never been with another man before that was so focused on a woman’s body. If we weren’t actually fucking, and if we weren’t talking, Zane’s mouth was always busy on my skin. Kissing or licking… sometimes, just rubbing his cheek over my skin while he hummed with approval and murmured, “So soft.”

Sex with Zane Kavanaugh was unparalleled.

It won’t be able to be reproduced.

I’ll never have that again in my life.

We live on different continents, and we won’t have anything between us but talk.

No touch… just conversation and friendship.

It takes me less than a second to click on the reply button—my mind made up. I may not be able to have with Zane what I really want, but I will take the friendship he is offering. I like him… a lot. As a person, as a friend, but sadly again never as a lover.

But this would be enough. It would have to be.



To: Zane Kavanaugh

From: Cady Dunne

Subject: Who Needs Regrets

Date: August 30, 2014



Shock probably isn’t a good enough word over seeing your email in my inbox, but you’ll be happy to know that it was a good kind of shock. You know… like the type you receive when you walk into your house unsuspecting that your family is throwing you a surprise party for your 21st birthday. You first get that jolt of surprise, followed by a moment where your stomach bottoms out, which precedes a sharp scream that tears out of your throat, then supreme joy over realizing what was going on.

Not that I have any experience with that.

That’s certainly how I felt when I saw your email.

Yes, I would love to continue on a friendship with you. I can imagine your schedule is hectic, but I’m here to listen to any tirades over a loss (not that I expect you’ll be losing many games) or if you want to dish about the latest celebrity gossip. I’m really not sure what a friendship with you would entail, seeing as how you would officially be my very first male-friend-that-I-had-sex-with-before-I-decided-to-become-friends-with-him. It puts you in a solely unique category, and I figure this will evolve over time. Who knows… maybe I’ll be able to piss and moan to you over my period cramps and you can confess to me your secret love of romance novels or something. I’ll be your confidant so to speak.