Page 7 of Breakneck Hockey

“Ow! What the fuck, Alderchuck?” He’s still holding my wrists against the wooden cupboard doors.

“I bite.”

“I’m the one who’s going to make you come or not tonight, kitten. I’d behave myself if I were you.”

“If you think for one second that I’m gonna—mmpph.Mmmmhm.” Yeah. Yep. I’m back to moaning straight into his mouth.

“You were saying?” he says.

Sutter ruins everything by opening his stupid mouth. I lean forward, inching my way to the edge of the counter to kiss him. We should make a no-talking rule. He’s better like this, bruising my lips with his kisses. I don’t need to hear him speak, ever, if possible.

I attempt to move my hands from under his grip. He slams them hard, pressing them into the wood. “Hold still, Alderchuck.”

A bolt of lightning goes through me. “Make me.”

“I intend to.”

His hand ghosts over my crotch, and I hump into it like the animal he’s proving that I am. Is this what I’ve been reduced to? Drunk on lust, unable to resist him for anything? I’d sell my soul to have him fill me right now.

As soon as he lets my wrists go, I jump forward and knock his hat off so that I can dig my fingers deep into his hair.

“Look how bad you need my dick, kitten.” He pops the button on my jeans. Yeeesssss. Finally. “Say you want me.”

“Fuck you, Sutter.” But I push my aching dick into his chest and squeeze him with my thighs. I also yank his hair for good measure.

“I’m gonna murder you,” he says.

“You need to,”kiss, “take your tongue,”kiss, “out of my mouth first.”

He’s not willing to do that and it eggs me on. I tug harder until he’s cursing me, testing the limits. Being hockey players, we’re used to brutality. However, I’m a little more beat up than usual and since he was the one I was beating on, I assume the same for him.

Huh. I wonder if…?

Letting my hand trail down his torso, I press into his side. “Ow! What is it with you? First, you bite me, then you tug the shit outta my hair, now you’re poking at places you know are fucking tender?”

I smile. “I made that tender.” My stick to be exact. I like to whack him with it when I think the refs aren’t looking. We do a lot of shit to each other when the refs aren’t looking.

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna to make you tender.”

With a yank, he pulls me toward him. Is he gonna try to…? Yep. He’s going to try to carry me. He holds under my ass and spins. I do my best to help, but he stumbles and then we’re on a one-way journey to the ground.

Like the gentleman he isn’t, I land on my back, and he lets me. His wolf paw of a hand catches my head though. “What was that, Sutter? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m close to two hundred pounds.”

He’s taller and bigger, but not by enough to do that.

“I could have if you’d helped me better, instead of acting like dead weight.”

“It’s my fault you dropped me on my back?”

“One hundred percent your fault.” He’s kneeling and has one of my ankles in his hand, removing my shoe.

Once again, I’m too transfixed to do anything but watch him. Mitch Sutter’s taking my shoes off. He doesn’t stop there, taking my socks off too. Then he plants himself over top of me, kissing me some more.

If you’d have asked me if I thought a fuck fest with Sutter would involve so much kissing, it would have been a hands-down no for me.

I don’t want to be on top. I’m right where I want to be, in fact, but I do want to live up to my Benduovr username. Specifically, the brat part. Hooking a leg around his ass, I flip us so that I’m on top of him. “If you don’t stop kissing and get to the fucking part, I’m gonna think you like me, Sutter.”

He growls, turning feral. “You fucking brat.”

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