Page 164 of Breakneck Hockey

He laces his hand with one of mine. “I was kinda thinking getting married would be cool—someday,” he tacks on.

“If you don’t think I’ve already got plans to own you on paper, too, you don’t know a thing about me.”

“Why do you and Rhett think married means owning someone on paper? That’s some eighteenth-century bullshit, Sutter.”

But he’s blushing a pretty shade of pink. I think he likes the thought of that, but he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t complain about it. And as far as I’m concerned, I will own him on paper once we’re hitched, but we can fight about that later. “You tellin’ me you don’t wanna be my gorgeous bride, Alderchuck?”

He laughs as I suck on his neck. “Not gonna be your bride, Sutter, but I’d be your husband. Don’t think this gets you out of asking, though. I want something special or I’m tellin’ you to go fuck yourself.”

I frown. “Since when?” We’re the same that way. We don’t do big romance shit … except for the time I had to pronounce my love for him on the street front outside of TD Garden.

Huh. Starting to think that wasn’t a one-off.

“Since now.”

“So, we can’t run off to Vegas for a weekend?” I suck his neck a little harder, hoping that’ll talk him out of some weird, lavish wedding. I’ll do that if it’s what he wants, but we’d both look out of place at our own wedding.

“We can—totally our vibe, by the way—but I just want it to be?—”

“Thoughtful.”

“Yeah.” He smiles.

“Got it. Your wish is my fucking command and shit, kitten.”

He laughs and I kiss his face. He pushes at my chest. “What are you gonna do?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.” And I am gonna do something because I officially have a new obsession—making Alderchuck my husband—but that’s gonna be a whole other adventure. “Now, be quiet while I get you ready for my cock, baby.”

With a healthy dose of lube, I twist my fingers inside, reaching for the place I’ve become oh-so-familiar with. I can’t believe I let him fuck with other men for half the season. That’s messed up.

“Ow, fuck, Sutter. Are you thinking about other men fucking me again?”

“Well, you won’t tell me who they were.”

“Yeah, because I don’t want to have to have sex with you during conjugal visits because you’ve murdered them on the ice. Shit. Didn’t mean to say that last part.”

“So, they’re hockey players.”

This was supposed to be a sweet and sappy fuck, but that’s not gonna happen now that my brain’s decided to go down a jealous yellow brick road. I think I’d rather just rearrange his insides with my cock. It takes a little fancy maneuvering, but I slide out of my shorts and boxers.

“Fuck, you make me so crazy with wanting you,” I say as I stroke my cock a bit. “How about I hold you down and make you cry? Then will you tell me?”

“Aw, puddin’, that’s just a good time.” He has the audacity to laugh in the face of my threats.

“That’s it.” I thrust my cock inside of him, forcing him to grip my ass for dear life. He arches, pushing his torso against me, exhaling a sinful moan.

“There, there! God, please, more like that.”

I set a punishing pace, which isn’t all that punishing for Casey. He likes it as hard as I can thrust. Hmm. That gives me an idea. I slow the fuck down, all the way down, so that my dick only just connects with the place that makes him moan.

“Oh, that’s mean.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

Just because I’m trying to torture him, doesn’t mean I can resist wanting to eat him. I suck over the hickey tattoo on his collarbone, pumping into him at a painfully slow pace.

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