Page 92 of Breakneck Hockey

“I didn’t hang up on you. I needed a second to figure you out. You confuse the hell out of me sometimes. How’d I do?”

That’s not fair. I don’t want to admit that Sutter has anything about me figured out. “You sure you didn’t get help from Nicci about it?”

“Not a fucking chance. I take care of my own house, Alderchuck. Now c’mon. Give credit where credit’s due, or I’m gonna make you regret it next time I’m in your ass.”

My face flushes while I picture him taking forever to let me cum, drawing it out until I’m a begging, needy mess. “Jeez. Fine, Sutter. You did …” I take a breath. “You did good.”

“That’s a good little Alderchuck.”

“Sutter.”

He laughs. “Anyway, I bet you’ve had nacho poutine hundreds of times.”

“Nope. Never.”

“Never? Shit, Alderchuck. You gotta try it. You’ll love how much nacho cheese they drenched this in. The gravy’s made with real beef broth—I remember you droning on about that.”

Sutter waxes poetic about poutine for three minutes. I can’t believe my ears. What the fuck dimension did I walk into? Does he actually listen to the shit I say?

“Anyway, why’s Jack with you? I hope you’re not sharing a bed with him, kitten.”

No. Not anymore because of Mercy, but Sutter doesn’t know that. “If I want to, I will, Sutter. Stacey said he was gonna be out all night, so I’m staying at Jack and Lo’s.”

“And you can’t stay at your hotel because…?”

“Because why would I? Who wants to stay in a hotel room all by themselves? I mean, I guess I could ask Otterhammer what he’s doin’—"

“No, you’re fucking not. Jack’s is fine,” he says as if I asked him for permission, which I did not. But I can’t deny the way my insides relax.

“Perfect. Jack’s great for snuggling against, y’know, to keep out the cold.” It’s New York and it’s the dead of Autumn, reaching its bare branches into winter. It is pretty cold here.

“Nice try, Alderchuck. I saw Mercy at The Foxy. Don’t think he’d be cool with that.”

“Alright, you got me. Lo’s not here, I’m staying in his room.”

“Mhm. You can cuddle with him—on the couch—for a bit, since I’m not there, but not in the bed,” he clarifies in a voice that could heat steel.

In this case, it’s just my face, heating to searing degrees. What did he just say? A little voice pokes at me, but it’s so smalland quiet I can’t quite hear it. It’s saying something I might wish was true but can’t be.

Does Sutter give a fuck about me getting affection when he’s not around to give it?I’m an affection monkey. Everyone knows that—everyone who’s close to me. I didn’t expect Sutter to pick up on that, ever.

“I should go,” he finally says. “But I guess you were on my mind. You good?”

There’s more to that “You good” than he’s trying to play off. It’s more like an “Are we good”?

I was right. There’s a reason he’s been radio silent. He’s feeling me out. Seeing if I’m gonna ask about that time—the time I know not to ask about. He’s not ready to talk about the thing from his past that made him scream for his dad. I’m not gonna make him either. That’s his shit. I wouldn’t want someone making me talk about my mom if I didn’t want to tell them. I know I push boundaries, but I also know which lines not to cross.

“Can’t get better. Jack made me my favorite post-game meal.”

“Mac ‘n’ cheese,” he murmurs. He knows that? “That mean you have ketchup on your lip?”

“I do not have—” Oh, shit. I do. I lick it away. “Lucky guess, Sutter.”

“Educated guess, brat.” His voice lowers to a sinful octave. “If I were there, I’d lick it off you. I’d lick ketchup off your fucking dick, kitten.”

My dick perks up. And now I wish I’d considered calling Sutter from the hotel before I came here. I’ll have to suffer the night, hard and horny.

“Since my food porn didn’t work, I’ll send you a dick pic so you’ve got something to whack off to later. Consider it my act of goodwill for the week. Night, Alderchuck.”

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