Page 5 of Breaking the Ice

“Yeah, um... I'm pleased as well,” he says, lowering his gaze to his hand and rubbing the spot where my thumb brushed against him.

“So, Parker,” I say, tilting my head slightly to the side, “have you been playing for the Devils for long?”

“I, uh... this is my second year.” Parker removes his gaze from my thighs and looks at me. “Mr. Flake hired me last year when he bought the team.”

“So, you’ve played here from the very beginning?”

“You could say that, yes.”

“And what can I do for you?” I ask, leaning against the massage table in a sensual motion, crossing my legs. “Are you looking for a massage?”

“I'm actually here to see if I can do something for you,” he answers. I believe this statement has a double meaning. But Parker isn't a Player, which is why the words sound like he's just checking on me. Making sure everything's okay with the newcomer.

“That's kind of you, but I have everything I need. Thanks.” With a little hop, I stand up from the massage table. I take a couple of steps towards him and glance up at him through my lashes. “Is there anything else?”

He hesitates, as if carefully considering his words.

“No, as I said, I just wanted to see if I could assist you.” Another suggestive innuendo? Well, if this is his way of flirting, then the guy is pretty unsubtle.

“Okay, then I should get going,” I reply, not addressing his comment, and walk past him towards the door. I hear him curse behind me. Well, my friend, I think, you're cursing rightly because you've just messed things up. I love to flirt, but when men become pushy or, like in his case, blunt, the whole thing loses its charm. Hand on the light switch, I look at him expectantly. He catches on, shoves his hands in his pockets, and steps out of the massage room in front of me.

“Well, then,” I say, after turning off the light and closing the door behind us, “I'll see you tomorrow.” With that, I leave him standing and head upstairs to Dad and Bill. It's high time for a decent coffee and a nice sandwich.

4

Caleb

Arching her back, Jess presents her round butt to me as I press against her. “Oh God, Caleb! Damn, yes!” she moans beneath me.

“Hush, Jess, not so loud,” I attempt to stifle her increasingly throaty moans of ecstasy. In vain, she's on the verge of orgasm and can't control herself any longer. Trying to avoid broadcasting our intercourse throughout the entire house, I hasten to bring things to a conclusion. Continuing my forceful thrusts, I also deliver a slap to her butt. I'm well aware of how much she enjoys it, and indeed, I coax a satisfying grunt of pleasure from her. I repeat the spanking, this time on the opposite cheek, pushing her over the edge. “Fuck, Caleb! Yes, yes, YES!” Her fingers claw into the sheets as shudders of pleasure run through her and she climaxes. I can feel her juices running down my balls. Though I'd love to keep on fucking, I'm assuming that someone might have heard us. So, a knock on her door could be imminent. I place my hands on her hips, pulling her closer to me, and seek my own release. Just before reaching that point, I pull my cock out of Jessica and ejaculate onto her backside. I love watching myself come on her back. And given her willingness, I wholeheartedly indulge in this fetish. Tilting my head back, I close my eyes. A single raw gasp escapes my lips, just before the expected knock on the door.

“Yes?” Jess calls out, still breathless.

“Darling, Anna has prepared dinner, we're eating now!” That's Veronica, Jessica's mom. Her words sound neutral, but a trace of disgust is evident in her voice. She can't stand me and believes I'm too old for her 19-year-old daughter. Maybe she's right; after all, I'm 27, a whole eight years older than her precious sunshine.

“Alright, we'll be there in a minute!” my girlfriend calls toward the bedroom door. Then she brushes her blonde hair behind her ear and shoots me a seductive glance over her shoulder. “So, Mister, I'd say that was damn hot!”

“One could say that,” I reply with a grin, reaching for the tissue box on her nightstand to clean up. Usually, we take a shower together after sex, but that's not possible today since her parents are waiting for dinner. I hate being here; I feel more comfortable in my own apartment. There, we can be as loud as we want and walk around naked all day long. Much to my annoyance, Jess insists that we spend a night at her place once a week. Like tonight.

As I swiftly put on my clothes, she takes her time.

“Come on, Jess, you know they're waiting,” I urge, leading the way to the door.

“Man, relax, Caleb. They're not going to break a sweat if they have to wait a few minutes,” she replies, indifferent to her mother's opinion of me. No, even worse, she finds amusement in her narrow-minded thinking and delights in provoking her. Hand on the doorknob, I look back at her. Jess is still sitting naked on the bed, slowly putting on her bra. It's annoying.

“Could you hurry up a bit?” I ask.

“Could you be a bit more polite?” she retorts. “I'm coming, okay?”

Fifteen damned minutes later, we finally make it and enter the dining room of the Flake family, furnished with designer furniture and chandeliers. Like everything else in the house, this room oozes wealth and elegance.

“Caleb, my boy, so nice to see you,” greets me Carl Flake, owner of the Portland Devils. He's sitting in his wheelchair at the head of the table, set with silverware and crystal glasses, smiling benevolently at us. Even though he always treats me kindly, I feel foolish sitting next to him and pretending like nothing happened. I mean, just a few minutes ago, I was banging his daughter, and now I'm here, supposed to have dinner with him and his family.

“Take a seat next to me, lad,” he insists, motioning to the spot beside him. I oblige, and Jess sits down as well. She's focused on her mother, who has pursed her lips into a thin line. From the corner of my eye, I see Jessica smirking challengingly at her. Their relationship is strained. Jess claims her mother is a selfish bitch who only married her dad for his money. Money she passionately spends daily. According to Jess, Veronika never loved her husband and made no secret of it. But she seems to care a lot about her daughter. Her only child. As far as she's concerned, her girl should snag a rich businessman so she can be well taken care of and live a carefree life. A hockey player like me, even if I play in the pro league, is beneath her daughter's level. After all, a sports career isn't permanent. The best example of that is her own husband, Carl. A minor accident, and that was it for his career. Even if you stay in good health, you eventually become too old for the pros. And then the big money is gone too.

“You were brilliant today, my boy,” Mr. Flake redirects my attention. “The Cougars are one of the strongest teams, but you really put them in their place.” Jess slides her hand under the table onto my thigh and squeezes it, all the while beaming at her dad. She's incredibly proud of me and my performance.

“We all put them in their place - the whole team. The guys were great today,” I correct him. But the owner shakes his head, leans in slightly toward me, and looks at me intently.

---