Hendrix: A Pittsburgh Titans Novel
Hendrix: Chapter 7

I know I should be second-guessing myself, but I’m not. I want Hendrix Bateman more than I think I’ve ever wanted a man in my life.

Not that there have been a lot in my relatively short sexual history, but there have been a few. Men I felt a connection with for sure, or else I’d have never been intimate. But I’ve never slept with someone I just met. It takes me time to warm up to people on a deeper level.

Not with Hendrix, though. I seem to have a swift level of trust in him, and I’m going with my gut.

I don’t chastise myself for making this decision under the haze of inebriation, because really… those beers only helped me come to a decision a little faster.

We take an Uber to my place, which is only a five-minute ride from the bar. Five minutes that we make out in the back seat, uncaring if the driver watches or that the windows fog.

It’s freezing outside, but the cold doesn’t seem to touch me at all as we run up the porch steps hand in hand. Never have I unlocked my door so fast, and then Hendrix is pushing me inside and slamming the door behind us. We rip off our coats and toss them to the floor.

My lips are already tingling from his kisses in the car, and now that we’re in the privacy of my home, we don’t waste time pushing things along.

With deft hands, he has my tank up and off before tossing it carelessly over his shoulder. Hendrix stills, lets his eyes rove over my body clad only in jeans and a simple black cotton racer-back bra. His eyes linger on my breasts, already heaving because he makes me breathless.

I wait for him to do something… say something… my nerves jangling because I know he’s going to pounce at any moment.

His gaze lifts and meets mine. “I’m going to be a gentleman only once and ask if you’re sure you want to do this?” His voice is deep and gravelly with lust, making me shiver. “You know… given the fact we’ve had a few beers.”

“I’m sure,” I reply, and relief washes through his expression.

“Thank fuck,” he mutters before lunging at me.

I hop into his arms—somehow knowing he’ll catch me perfectly. My legs wrap around his waist, and as we kiss, I manage to direct him up the staircase to my bedroom without both of us breaking our necks. It’s a testament to how strong he is, and I feel the proof of his muscles as I explore his shoulders and back.

In my bedroom, Hendrix sets me down… a slow slide down his body where I can feel how much he wants me. It’s dark and shadowed, the only light spilling in from the hallway. He steps over to my bedside table and turns on the lamp.

With the room softly illuminated, Hendrix takes a step back from me. “Take off your clothes, Stevie.” His voice is heavy with lust. “I want to watch.”

“Oh God,” I whimper, but my ass goes to the edge of my bed so I can take off my boots and socks. When I’m barefoot, I rise to shimmy out of my jeans with only the slightest bit of embarrassment to be under the hot spotlight of his gaze. Hendrix stands there, arms loose at his sides but hands balled into fists as he watches.

Although nervous, I’m strangely empowered. I see in his expression that he wants me in a way that might surpass bodily desire. Like, he wants to crawl inside me, not just for the pleasure but to know me from a perspective no one else can.

Hendrix is still as a statue, observing me intently as I step out of my jeans and kick them away. It’s weird, but rather than making me feel more self-conscious as I stand before him in my simple bra and panties, the weight of his appraisal calms me. The only way I know any of this affects him is how his chest rises and falls faster and his teeth bite into his lower lip, as if he’s considering what to do next.

Once more, Hendrix lets his gaze move over my body in no particular pattern… just languid brushes of regard that stutter and then pin on my chest. “Take it all off, Stevie.”

His voice is so gruff with need, the timbre scrapes at my nerves in a delicious way. My hands move to the front clasp of my bra, and I pop the mechanism. I watch him watching me as I shrug off the cotton undergarment.

Hendrix groans as he takes in my nipple piercings, and then I almost burst into flames as his hand rubs at the erection pressing against his jeans.

“You are so goddamned hot,” he mutters, squeezing his length as if trying to get some measure of control. My nipples harden just from seeing how turned on he is right now.

“Panties… off,” he commands.

My heart feels like it’s thrashing around inside my chest trying to burst free as I slip my fingers into the elastic band at my hips and push the cotton south, giving a little wiggle when they reach my knees so gravity takes them the rest of the way. I pull one foot free, kick them aside, and I am stark naked.

We’re squared off against each other, and it never occurs to me to step toward him. Instead, I wait for his next instructions.

I like that I want him to tell me what to do, which seems contrary to my independent and decisive nature.

“Come here,” he says thickly, reaching out a hand.

I place my palm in his and let him lead me to the bed. He sits down on the edge and spreads his legs. I gasp as his arms encircle me, then he leans forward to press his mouth to my stomach. A shudder races up my spine as his lips skim to my ribs. My hands grip onto his shoulders for stability because I want to melt into him.

Hendrix kisses his way up, grazes his stubbled cheek along the underside of my breast, and then his tongue circles the piercing in my nipple.

I groan as pleasure sizzles straight through me, a golden pathway of desire ending right between my legs in a deep ache of wanton need.

Hendrix hums his approval, moving his mouth to my other nipple, and my fingers replace their way into his silky hair. He seems in no rush as his tongue laves over my piercing, and I almost lose my shit when he tugs it gently with his teeth. My hands involuntarily contract, gripping his hair to hold him in place, feeling like I’ll die if he stops.

Releasing the hoop and giving a tiny lick, Hendrix pulls back to look up at me. His hands go to my ass where he squeezes roughly. “You are the sexiest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

My heart lurches over the admission because I hear the utter truth in it. I see it within his eyes, his genuine honesty. No one has ever called me sexy or beautiful before. I’m the tough chick, strong and able. I’m cute, perhaps, but beautiful?

No… no way.

“I’d say the same about you,” I murmur, feeling the blush of his compliment on my cheeks, “but you’re not naked yet.”

Grinning, Hendrix stands from the bed, causing me to step back. Holding out his hands, he says, “Get to work.”

I don’t need to be told twice. My hands move to his shirt, and I push it up his torso, but because he’s so tall, he has to help me get it off. Then I’ve got his jeans open, and I relish the buck of his hips when I have his cock in my hand.

My head tips back to replace Hendrix watching me with hot, hungry eyes. I stroke his length and he groans, the naked desire on his face once again punching lust straight through me.

Instinct forces me down, my knees bending with an insatiable need to have him in my mouth.

I’m stopped when Hendrix puts his hand at the front of my throat and shakes his head. “Later.”

His hand then slides around to the back of my neck, and he hauls me up so he can kiss me. His tongue plunges deep, causing my head to spin. His other hand smooths over my lower back, down along my ass to the back of my thigh where he hitches my leg up. I feel his hardness between us and then he’s pushing me down onto my bed.

“Stay,” he says with a pointed look, which is absolutely needed because I want to lunge at him. I need my hands on him. But I obey, holding still as I gawk. He puts on a show as he strips out of the rest of his clothes. He’s quick, but that doesn’t mean it’s not entertainment. His body is stunning, a combination of lean muscle, golden skin, and a variety of tattoos I’ll take time to look at later.

And then I see it… right over his heart.

Rachel.

His sister’s name with a date under it… April 18. I assume the date of her death, and my heart constricts with empathy.

My gaze immediately drops not to his cock but his left hip bone where I see the very first tattoo he got when he was sixteen.

The Tasmanian Devil.

That’s adorable and totally a tattoo a teenager would secretly get.

Movement snags my attention.

Hendrix’s hand is on his cock, stroking it, and my mouth goes dry. He’s got a condom foil in the other hand and he has no modesty, coming closer to the bed for me to get a close-up view. The surety of his actions renders me a tumultuous mess. I feel so inexperienced compared to his sexual confidence, and yet the perceived disparity also turns me on.

Ripping the packet with his teeth, Hendrix rolls the condom on with such fluidity, it’s clear he’s done this a time or two. I don’t think about that in the context of who he’s been with before but rather he’s probably bringing a wealth of experience to bed with him. Just the fact he was assured enough to pull on my nipple piercing with his teeth tells me he knows what the hell he’s doing.

Hendrix crawls onto the bed and pauses with his knees between my legs, his palms planted on the mattress beside my head to stare down at me.

“Can you even imagine all the dirty, filthy things I want to do to you?”

I take in a sharp breath and shake my head, knowing that actual words are impossible because I about swallowed my tongue in shock.

No man has ever talked to me like that. Rather than be repulsed, I want to demand further litany.

“I seriously don’t even know where to begin,” he muses as he looks down between our bodies. His eyes light up as his mouth curves wickedly. “I suppose I ought to test out a few things first.”

“Like what?” I practically wheeze.

He doesn’t answer with words but shows me with one hand sliding down my stomach and right in between my legs. I moan when he presses a long finger deep inside me.

Hendrix hisses, his eyes flaming with desire. “You’re fucking soaked, Stevie. What exactly made you that way?” he rumbles.

“You did.”

“Yeah… but what did I do to get you there?” His finger slides free before pressing back in ever so slowly. “Tell me.”

My hips gyrate to draw him deeper, and I lick my lips. “Back at the bar… you told me you will always want more with me.”

Hendrix laughs low, and I can hear the pleasure in his voice. “You’ve been wet for me this entire time?”

My answer is to rock my hips against his hand, conveying that I’d really like more right now.

Dropping down but still holding most of his weight off me with his elbows, Hendrix kisses me again with a laziness that drives me crazy. His cock lays heavy between my legs, and I wiggle my hips, trying to get the friction I’m craving.

Hendrix mumbles against my mouth. “Greedy.”

I bite his lip, and he curses.

Then he laughs, lifting my leg to wrap it around his hip. He uses his hand to guide his cock to me, and thrusts gently until he has his full length buried deep.

“Mmm.” My eyelids flutter as I wrap my other leg around his waist and gyrate against him. “Feels good.”

“Unbearably good,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to my temple before lifting his body up a bit. His head dips, and he looks down the length of our bodies. “Look at us… connected. Me… deep inside you.”

I’m almost afraid to look, but I do as my hands come up to brace against his thick biceps. It’s staggeringly erotic and my muscles involuntarily contract.

Hendrix groans. “Fuck, woman.”

I start to laugh, but Hendrix pulls out and thrusts back in with enough force the laugh is knocked back down my throat. “Oh God… just like that.”

Hendrix kisses me as he starts to move, and I close my eyes so I can let myself feel. Hendrix lowers onto me, pressing his torso to mine, and one arm goes around my back to hold me close as he moves within me. His mouth flutters against my cheek, moving to my jaw before he presses his temple against mine.

Sharp bursts of air from his mouth waft against my neck, causing goose bumps, and Hendrix moves faster.

Harder.

My hips flex counter to his moves, an erotic dance that is so synchronously perfect it feels like he’s become part of me. He’s hitting me deep, and I can’t help the pleas that come pouring out. “Hendrix… please don’t stop. It feels so good.”

“Trust me,” he says softly into my ear, his hand slipping between our bodies to replace my clit. “I’ll get you there.”

His simple yet effective touch sends a live current through me, so powerful that it knocks my orgasm loose.

I groan as my entire body locks tight for a blisteringly long moment as ecstasy takes me hostage. I feel myself rippling around his cock, pleasure exploding through me, causing Hendrix to buck harder. I’m absolutely dizzy with the force of it.

“Jesus… right there with you,” he growls and then gathers me in close again as he starts to come.

With our bodies pressed tight, his hips locked hard against mine, I feel his entire body shudder. He pushes into me once more, so very deep, and curses with relief. “So fucking good, Stevie.”

Nothing has ever felt better.

I lie under Hendrix’s heavy weight, feeling safe and spent in the cocoon of his strong arms. I’m jolted back to reality when he lifts slightly, the air chilly against the sweat on our bodies.

Tenderness glows in his eyes. “You good?”

Warmth spreads through my chest as I smile. “I’m boneless, but not a single complaint.”

Hendrix laughs before pressing a gentle kiss to my mouth. “That was amazing.”

“Beyond.”

He regards me thoughtfully. “You want me to go?”

I shake my head. “I want you to stay. It’s so late—or rather, early morning—you should get some sleep.”

“Not sure I’ll sleep lying next to you.”

I love the teasing nature of his words, but he’s serious too. “Well, you can try.”

“I’ve got to be at the arena at ten for practice. I’ll have to get out of here by nine.”

“I’ll set the alarm,” I assure him.

Later, when we’re both snuggled under the covers and I’m pulled into a spooned position before him, Hendrix squeezes my hip. “Don’t even think about canceling our date tonight.”

I can’t help but chuckle, as he might know me better than I gave him credit for. There’s a part of me wondering if now that we have given into the lust and had sex before our second date, does he want to keep seeing me?

“The thought might have crossed my mind,” I admit.

“Well, uncross it. I’m leaving for a three-day road trip and I want to go out to another nice dinner.”

I’m flushed with a wave of giddiness that he wants to spend time with me. Not just sex, but a meal, which means more talk. I have a million more curiosities about him, and I’m glad that this somewhat drunken fall into fast sex didn’t derail our desire to get to know each other better.

“It’s uncrossed,” I murmur, turning in his arms. Although the bedside lamps are off, I can see his face from the glow of the light from the hallway bathroom I’d left on. I can walk around my house in the dark, but I didn’t want Hendrix taking an accidental tumble down the stairs.

I press my hands to Rachel’s name over his heart. “When did you get this tattoo?”

“About three months ago,” he says.

“Really? Only three months?”

“Let’s just say my earlier tattoos didn’t hold a lot of meaning.”

“I saw the Tasmanian Devil on your hip.”

Hendrix’s smile gleams. “My sixteen-year-old self didn’t make the greatest decisions. But to answer your question, it wasn’t until after the plane crash that I started thinking a little deeper about Rachel’s death.”

My arm goes around his back and tightens. “Why is that?”

Hendrix lifts a shoulder, as if he doesn’t quite know the full answer. “I grieved for my sister. I still do. I did throughout my entire life after her. My family has coped with it, we’ve had therapy, we all talk about Rachel. But it wasn’t until I had my own brush with death that I realized how fragile life really is. I don’t think I appreciated that before. And I never wanted to forget it, so I put her name over my heart.”

“You had a brush with death because you weren’t on the plane,” I say with understanding.

“Does that sound overly dramatic?”

I shake my head emphatically. “Not at all. I don’t know why you weren’t on that plane, but you easily could’ve been.”

“Minor injury. I pulled a groin muscle and was only out for that one game. In fact, I almost did go, but the coaches decided to give me one more night of rest.”

“A twist of fate is all that stood between you and death.” A tiny shiver skitters up my spine at the scary truth that your next minute on this earth isn’t guaranteed. “How have you been since the plane crash? It’s not just a brush with death. You lost close friends.”

“Too many close friends,” he murmurs, his voice so slight, it would get lost on the wind if we were outside.

“I can’t imagine.” I skim my fingers over his collarbone, along his shoulder, then smooth my palm down his arm. “How did you even manage to cope with those losses?”

“Therapy,” he says, and my eyes lift to his. There isn’t an ounce of hesitation in his admission. “There was only me, Coen, and Camden left. Coen went off the rails.”

I had indeed read all about Coen’s troubles following the crash. “But he seems good now.”

“Yeah. He’s good now. Met a woman who healed his heart.”

“You believe that can happen?” I ask.

“That a woman can have such power?” Hendrix asks for clarification.

“That love can fix things.” I wonder, maybe if I love my mom enough, will I be able to heal what’s broken inside her?

“All I know is that a heart can be healed. And I suppose that could be done by the love of someone. I mean, I had my parents, but not a girlfriend or anything. Just a good therapist named Pete.”

I laugh, trying to imagine what Pete looks like. “And Camden’s okay?”

“I don’t know,” he says, and I hear self-condemnation in that. “We haven’t talked about it in such a long time.”

I lift my head, locking eyes with him. “No one says you have to. Not if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah… I know. It’s just… he seems fine, so I don’t ask, and he doesn’t ask me. He’s a little off on the ice this year, but he was fine last year, so who knows.”

I settle back down, contemplating whether I should ask my next question. “Did you have a close friend on the plane? I’m sure you were close with all your teammates, but was there someone that you were closest to?”

I feel Hendrix flinch slightly as he releases a soft sigh. “Yeah… Jason Heinen. He was a defenseman on the first line. In fact, he took my spot on the first line, moving me down to second when he came to the team two years ago. He was so good I couldn’t even be upset by it. We just clicked, you know. Hung out together in our spare time, traveled together during the summers. I was a pallbearer at his funeral and that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It made me understand that I can’t continue on without taking every opportunity to live my best life.”

“I’m sorry about your losses.” It’s all I have to offer, along with the kiss I press to the base of his throat because it’s closest to my mouth.

“At any rate,” Hendrix continues gruffly, “I’m going to add the names of everyone on the plane to my body somewhere. Probably along my ribs.”

I wince. “That’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch.”

“I hope so. It will mean more that way.”

His words compel me to snuggle closer, and I lock my arms around him in a tight hug. He reciprocates with a gentle squeeze, and I place my ear on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“Do you think your dad would do the tattoo for me?” he asks.

I smile at the thoughtful gesture as Hendrix could get his tattoo anywhere. “He definitely would not turn his nose up at your money, but he might make it hurt a little more than necessary, since you’re dating his daughter.”

“But I’ll be tough about it, and then I’ll earn brownie points with him.”

“Probably,” I admit.