Page 94 of Breakneck Hockey

What I shouldn’t be doing is feeling a pull to check on him. Make sure he’s with someone. Make sure someone’s taking care of him when I can’t. But I think—no, I know—I’ve figured out the second piece of Casey that he’s only partially aware of.

Casey doesn’t like being alone.

I’ve noticed a few times that when his brother’s out, he stays with someone. Was kinda just something that stood out to me. It was harder to see in the summer because he lived in a house with several people. The occurrence of someone being home was more likely and I didn’t think anything of it. Even his staying with Jack when he was in New York, could be passed off as visiting with a friend, I guess, but I don’t think that was it. I guess none of this is proof enough, I have to label it as Casey Theory, but it feels right. I intend on cornering one of his pals the first chance I get, to confirm my theory.

I’ll even be bold and add that I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it.

Call me an assuming asshole, but I’m so sure of this and my other bit of Casey Theory, that he needs physical affection likeit’s his source of life force, I was willing to let him cuddle up to Jack when he should only be cuddling up with me.

Fuck. Now I’m gonna worry about him all night. I need to get my mind off him; I need the gym. I tape up my hands and use the private facility in my building. Punching the shit out of a heavy bag is the perfect therapy. Convince me I’m wrong.

My body’s drenched with sweat by the time I return, and I’m lighter. Clearheaded. I don’t have the urge to make out with any more Jolly Ranchers.

I’m undressed with a towel around my waist, ready to hop into the shower, but my phone lights up.

Kitten

What’s your deal, Sutter? How dare you buy Theo’s last bag of watermelon Jolly Ranchers. You don’t even like sweets. Was this just to fuck with me?

It takes me a minute to make him make sense, but then I do, and my insides glow. I don’t know what’s more terrifying, that Casey’s starting to make perfect sense to me, or how much I like figuring him out. And fucking with him was the last thing on my mind when I bought those forsaken sugar cubes. I wanted to be close to him. Taste him. Devour him.

But if fucking with him’s handed to me on a silver platter, I will gladly fuck with him.

Me

I’m holding them hostage. If you want them, you’ll have to come get them.

Kitten

Not cute, Sutter. And here I was prepared to offer video sex.

Video sex isn’t my thing. I’m a hands-on kind of guy. But as much as I hate to admit it, I’m hard up. And not just generally—for him. I can have anyone I want, but all I seem to want these days is him. I fucking need him like air and, if video sex is all that’s available right now, I’ll take it.

Me

Do something cute for me, and I’ll think about sending them to you.

The video call comes through immediately. I answer from my laptop so I can see him better.

“Do you always walk around in the buff like that, Sutter?”

I let my towel drop. My dick’s already rising to the occasion, so I give it a few strokes. “Why, you like it? You should have less clothes on.”

He’s fully dressed. A white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He shrugs out of the t-shirt. I’ve never been so turned on by bare skin in my life. Fuck, maybe I should get laid before I fuck with Alderchuck, so I’m not a horny bitch.

NHL Hockey’s been good to him. He’s put on a little size in his chest and shoulders this season. His muscles are moredefined. Everything chiseled to perfection. My fingers ache to run through those bouncy locks of his.

I sit back in my desk chair, legs spread for him, making myself as lewd as possible. “Stand up and turn around, Alderchuck. I want to see your ass when you take those off.”

“M’kay,” he breathes. He’s affected, too. Good to know. Maybe this call wasn’t as Jolly Rancher inspired as he’s making it out to be. Is it delusional to think that maybe he was craving me too?

He turns around, standing in front of his sofa chair, unbuttoning his jeans. His fingers slip under the waistband, and then his jeans slide over his perfect bubble ass, taking his boxers down with them.

“Yeah, just like that, kitten.”

Wait, is that a bruise on his ass? It is. A big fucking purple bruise. What the fuck? That ass belongs to me. Rage bubbles to a rolling boil, turning my blood into lava.

“You’re quiet back there, Sutter.” He turns around.

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