Page 163 of Breakneck Hockey

He rubs where I smacked his ass as he sulks toward his bedroom. There’s probably a nice handprint there. I’m gonna add a lot more handprints later.

I should also talk to him about our living situation. He’s not quite ready to move out of here, so we’ve spent all our time between my place and his. I know having the other two friends living here complicates things, which is why the four of them opted to keep things as they are through the season.

Us hockey players are nomads anyway, but I’d love a place to call ours.

But that’s for future us to figure out. Let’s be real, that’s for future us to fight about. Today’s about him bitching to me about my asshole friends, and me getting so annoyed with his smart-assed mouth that I shove my cock in it to shut him up.

“Do not, I repeat, do not piss Counsellor Mitchell off this year.” Charles’s voice drifts in through the window, from where he’s schooling other campers in sage tones. He must not know this is our cabin—mine and Casey’s—or he wouldn’t be talking about me where I can hear him. “He learned a cruel new punishment. I drank one,onelousy rum and coke, and I was cleaning stuff with a toothbrush that should never be cleaned with a toothbrush.”

Peering out the window, I spy Charles with Joey and Eric. He shudders at the memory. I smile and shut the curtains. I plan to christen this cabin, can’t have prying eyes.

“You’re such an asshole, Sutter,” Casey hisses, adjusting his khaki, Robert Irwin issue button-down. “Can’t believe you made him do the toothbrush thing.”

“Stop fidgeting. You’re fine.”

“I’m gonna punch you in the dick is what I’m gonna do. I can’t believe you forced me to be here. And why do I get the younger kids? Are you trying to tell me—mmph.”

His back hits the hard cabin wall. My mouth and tongue work together to shut him up, and my hands pin a wrist each over his head. He opens his body for me, immediately submitting.

“That’s it. That’s my good little Alderchuck.”

“Sutter.”

I flip him around. His hands plant firmly on the wall. “You look fuckable in that outfit, kitten. I’m gonna defile you. Ruin you.”

He sticks his ass out, trying to find my khaki-covered dick that’s straining under the zipper. I pop the button on his shorts and slide a hand up his shirt, tweaking a nipple.Hard.He moans. I pull the shorts down and over his round ass slowly, unveiling the trail of hickeys I left last night. I leave them just under the base, where ass meets thigh, and rub my long middle finger inside his crease as I nibble on his shiver spot.

I kiss my way down his back, suddenly hit with an odd sort of tenderness. Casey and I don’t do a lot of tenderness, but I’m consumed with the need to try it. I don’t know why. It’s not like a cabin in the middle of the woods is conducive to romance—hell, it’s not like I know anything about romance—but my heart’s decided it’s about to explode.

“What the fuck are you doing back there, Sutter? Taking more pictures?”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to worship your ass, but you’re making it impossible.”

He laughs. “Your poetry is legendary, Romeo.”

Ignoring him, I make it to his ass, which I hold back from spanking—just barely because he’s asking for it—and shove my wet tongue inside. The shorts hold his legs together, preventing him from writhing like he wants to. Instead, he arches his back, offering himself to me. I lick his insides, jamming my tongue repeatedly into his hole, while he moans and bangs on the wall with his fist.

Finally, I release him from the khaki prison, yanking the shorts down his legs. He spreads them, sighing relief.

“Can you worship me a little faster back there? My nuts are cold.”

No patience. Alderchuck has no fucking patience. I smack his ass and squeeze the nuts he claims are cold. They’re not cold at all.

“Get on the bed.”

He smirks, but he doesn’t dare touch his dick. He’s learned the folly in that. He unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way and trust-falls onto the bed. It groans and bounces under his weight. I stare down at him, drinking in every ounce of his hockey-toned muscles and his long dick bobbing between his legs. He softens.

My instincts want me to sink my teeth into him, but I keep those at bay in favor of softness. The mattress sinks with my added weight on the small double bed—I’ve gotta move the other one over here—and I pause to take my shirt off. Alderchuck’s nimble fingers pop the button on my shorts, and his hand reaches inside to stroke my dick a few times.

“I love you so much, baby,” I say softly.

“I love you, Mitchell.”

I let him call me that. He’s been added to the small list of people who are allowed to call me that without getting punched in the face.

Casey’s fingers trace over the muscles of my abs, a thought on the tip of his brain. “Would you ever … well, I guess it’s kind of a dumb question because it doesn’t really matter and?—”

I capture his lips. I dunno what he’s so nervous to ask me, but he can stop that shit right now, even if it’s adorable as fuck. “What do you want, kitten?” My voice comes out raspy. I want him so bad.

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