Page 18 of Breakneck Hockey

Fumbling with the hem of his shirt, I lift it over his head and drink in his bare skin, save a few tattoos. Where should I bite him? Lick him? Suck him? He’s mine until I release him into the world again and even then, that’s negotiable. When I do, I want whoever has him next to know someone else was here. Someone who has claws in him. Someone who will fuck you up if you do something I don’t like to him.

Alderchuck inspires weird primal devotion from me, and I kinda dig it. He’s not mine, but he’smine.

I shed my shirt, too, and our hot skin presses together, threatening to incinerate us. Is this what rivalry turns into off the ice? We need to harness this kind of fire before it burns out.

My apartment fills with kissing and sucking sounds. I continue ravaging him against the wall, keeping one arm trapped over his head, shoving my hand down the waistband of his jeans. I catch a palmful of hard round hockey-man ass and give it a good squeeze. My tongue’s wrapped around his, sucking all the watermelon flavor out of him.

“Shoes then bedroom,” I demand, extracting myself from him, smacking his ass like I own it.

He kicks his shoes off. “This is the most demanding booty call I’ve ever been on,” he mutters.

The hot skin of his neck burns under my hand, fingers digging in before I know what I’m doing.

“Just how many booty calls do you have, Alderchuck?”

“None of your fucking business, Sutter.”

He’s always gotta challenge me. “I told you before, I don’t wanna hear about your other conquests when you’re with me.”

That drove me crazy the last time. I played it off like it was a standard “me” rule, but it was one I dreamt up on the spot. Inall our time as on-ice rivals, I’d never considered fucking him, but our banter via text message as Top Dog and Brat Cat really hit the spot. Something inside me clicked into place, filled a hole that’s been empty for a long time.

Couldn’t fucking articulate it if I tried. I just know that after the initial “I picked Casey Alderchuck up on Benduovr” shock wore off, he imprinted somewhere in the deep dark recesses of my bones. It was our particular brand of banter for me. I don’t want to think about him doing this shit with anyone else. It sets my damn teeth on edge.

He pushes me off him. “Alright, Jesus. Only your dick matters tonight, Sutter.”

A shot of adrenaline mixed with fierce sexual arousal barrels through me. I can’t wait anymore. I yank him by the waistband of his jeans into my bedroom.

Chapter 2

Marine Rope

Sutter

I’ve got some stuff laid on my bed. I had four hours to think about how I wanted him with no idea if this was going to be the last time. It made me indecisive—not a thing I usually am. But maybe I’ll finally be able to stop thinking about him after this. Go on with my life. It’ll make my feelings about him far less confusing.

My dick wants inside him, like, now, but below the surface, the desire to punch him in the face simmers. How can those two feelings be possible at the same time?

“Either you’re a kinky bastard or a serial killer, Sutter. I don’t know what it says about me that I don’t care which right now. What the fuck is all this crap?”

I needed extra rope for what I have planned, and all I had handy was the marine rope still in my car from camp that I hadn’t stuffed back into my storage locker. I’d also taken the time to tie a few bowline knots to my bedposts. Unlike my bed in Boston, I have a four-poster monstrosity Ma picked out whenshe decorated the place for me. Always thought it was a bit much, until today.

He wanders over to the bedside table, investigating the lube and condoms I’ve set out.

“Shit, Sutter. You’re as prepared as a boy scout.”

I’ve been hellbent on keeping that information from him, but now that he’s here, I kinda want to offer that little morsel and see what he does with it. I give him the Moose Scout salute.

“Since I was fifteen. Not with the Canadian Scouts, though. Something my dad runs. I’ll ask him to make you a junior cub next summer, you’ll fit right in with the eight-year-olds.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” he says, letting my weakly-aimed verbal jibe slip. “You would be some kinda maniac outdoors guy.”

I step closer, walking my fingers up his spine. “Nothing wrong with being prepared. I’m gonna go ahead and assume you need a few lessons on it.”

His naked skin’s distracting. His six-pack bumps along, still well-defined from the hockey season, but there’s a sheen of sun-kissed glow that wasn’t there before.Kitten’s been to the beach.Boat knots aren’t the only knots I can tie. I can’t wait to see what a column tie looks like against his bronze skin.

I pick up what little bamboo rope I have. “Wrists together, Alderchuck.”

He obeys without question for once, eager to be tied up, and I’m quick about securing his forearms together. I push his messy hockey hair off his shoulder as he studies my knot job. Blood rushes to my cock and the fierce desire I’ve battled all day grips me again. I push him onto the bed.

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