THE HEADLINE

“Wait… Noah Hayes.” A faint grin tugged at Noah's lips. He gave Emma a small nod, before turning and disappearing down the hallway.

Her eyes shifted back to Lena. “What the fuck just happened? That was Noah Hayes, the famous superstar hockey player.” Emma trailed off for a moment before adding, “He’s literally the hottest dude ever. Have you seen his abs?”

“Shut the fuck up.” She drew closer to Lena, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Was he asking you out?” Lena tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding Emma's eyes before letting out a quiet giggle. “Let's go, I'm so exhausted.”

By the time Lena got home, exhaustion had settled in her bones. All she wanted was a hot shower and a good sleep. She took off her shoes, hung her keys on the hook beside the door, and turned on the light, chasing away the darkness.

The chaos at the arena replayed in her mind as the reporters' voices echoed in her head, making her head throb. She slid into the bathroom, letting the hot shower wash away the day's exhaustion. After showering, she stepped out of the bathroom, towel-dried her hair, and changed into an oversized t-shirt and shorts.

Soon, sleep came.

His hands were already squeezing Lena's breasts. Not roughly, but more like they were the most precious thing to him at that moment.

She gasped for breath.

His tongue was out of his mouth as he licked her neck desperately, his teeth pressed against Lena's skin. She was pressed against something cold—maybe a wall or the refrigerator. She didn't know. She didn't care anyway.

Something like a hand kept crawling underneath her lap, more like it was aiming for her thigh.

“Stop… it.” Her lip trembled slightly.

His hands finally slid up Lena's thigh; his thumb was going in and out softly before his other hand could raise her left leg, pinning it to the cold object that grew colder with every second that passed. But nevertheless, she didn't care. Because that thumb in there was doing wonders to her.

“What? Do you want me to stop this?”

Damn it.

His voice was everything. It could even make her wet alone. His finger went deeper and rougher, more like he was making her pay for nothing in particular.

“Fuck.” A soft moan escaped her lips, barely audible. But she could swear on her life that he heard her moan.

“You're so wet.” His voice came out in a breathy whisper. This had to be the most embarrassing moment for her because the guy she told to stop a few moments ago was now the same guy her pussy was spilling cum uncontrollably for.

“Tell me you want this, Lena. Tell me how badly you want my fat cock inside your dripping sweet pussy.”

“I…..” Fuck, his hands were exactly on the spot she secretly wanted. “Don't stop.”

Holy shit, did she just say that?

He leaned closer, his lips brushing near her ear. “Say it. Do you want me to stop?”

“Please, don't… I want it.” Those were the three words he needed from Lena to take her into cloud nine.

To make that fucking pussy of hers squirt more.

To make that night unforgettable. Immediately, he pulled his hands out of her wet, dripping pussy and gave his finger a clean lick.

Fuck, she was almost there. Almost close to cumming more than she had. Right on the edge.

---

Lena jolted awake, breathing heavily.

Her eyes dropped to the clothes she was wearing. She was still in her oversized shorts and shirt as she dragged a hand down her face.

Fuck, it was all a dream. It wasn't just an ordinary dream.

A sex dream.

About Noah Hayes.

The same man who helped her get past those pokey-nosed reporters a few hours ago, even though she hadn't admitted it then.

She could still feel her thigh wet.

Fucking embarrassing.

His words replayed in her mind.

"Tell me you…”

She forced herself to stop remembering.

Lena was so certain she had never recalled any of her dreams this vividly before. So why was this one about Noah Hayes different?

The vivid sex dream about Noah Hayes was living rent-free no matter how many times she tried to shake it off.

“This is truly insane. It was just a silly dream.”

Just as she threw herself onto the bed, her phone rang.

A tired sigh escaped her lips.

She reached for her phone and glanced at the screen. Michael Reynolds, her boss. “Why the fuck is he calling now?”

She paused.

Her finger hovered over the screen. The moment she picked up the phone, a deep voice came through the speaker. “Lena, I need you to be in my office first thing tomorrow.”

 She froze.

What’s wrong, sir? Is everything okay?”

A brief silence followed. “Just do as you were told.” Immediately, the line went dead. She lowered the phone slowly, unease settling in her chest.

Several miles away, Noah had barely dropped his hockey bag when his doorbell rang.

He dragged his hand down his face before pulling the door open. Olivia Grant, his PR manager, quickly brushed past him without waiting for an invitation. “Don't tell me you don't know what's happening on social media yet,” she said, skepticism dripping from every word.

His forehead furrowed, his gaze fixed on Olivia. “What’s going on?”

“We have a problem,” she snapped, pacing back and forth across the living room. “Do you have any idea what you have done?”

“Calm down. What happened?”

“Look.” She flung her phone onto the coffee table in front of him. “Care to explain this?”

He picked up the phone. The headlines stared back at him. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“The media is turning this into a big scandal. You caused this, Noah.”

“It was nothing. It meant absolutely nothing to me.”

She hissed through gritted teeth. “You caused this, and you're going to find a fucking way to fix this mess before it gets worse.” Without another word, she walked out.

His pulse hammered in his ears; without thinking, he slammed his fist against the arm of the couch. “Damn it.”

Hours later, Lena was still awake as she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the strange feeling left by her boss's call. A vibration broke the silence.

Her phone lit up beside her. Ethan's name flashed across the screen. She stared at it longer than expected. For a moment, she considered ignoring him because, after what he had done, she wasn't sure if she would be able to speak with him again.

But she finally tapped the message anyway.

Her eyes dropped to the message. Care to explain why you're all over the Internet with Noah Hayes?

“What is he talking about?” The words left her lips in a whisper.

Before Lena could stop herself, she found herself tapping the I*******m icon. The app loaded for what felt like forever.

The first thing that greeted her was her own face.

Damn it!

What on earth was her face doing on the Internet?

For a second she forgot how to breathe.

A photo from the arena filled the screen.

The caption beneath it was what made her stop scrolling:

“HOCKEY SUPERSTAR NOAH HAYES SPOTTED HAND IN HAND WITH LENA CARTER, EX-GIRLFRIEND OF SPORTS REPORTER ETHAN CRANE, INSIDE THE ARENA.”