Page 71 of Trade Deadline

“Stop groping your boyfriend, Olsen!” Someone cackles.

He lets out a low groan, his hands still fixed on my ass when we pull apart.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he whispers, his eyes sparkling. “And I fucking love this.” He tugs on the hem of the jersey I'm still wearing.

Hisjersey.

“I fucking love seeing you wearing my name.” He presses a gentle kiss to my cheek. “Can I take you home?”

I nod.

We walk Nate back to his car to fetch my overnight bag from the trunk. We say our goodbyes and head to Blaine’s Range Rover in the players' lot. His apartment is only a fifteen-minute drive from the arena, and the second the elevator doors close, Blaine’s lips are on mine.

Hot, wet, needy kisses.

My bag drops to the floor with a thud. I wrap my arms around his wide shoulders, my fingers threading through the hairs at the back of his neck. His hands smooth down my spine, over the curve of my ass, and when he squeezes the globes, my toes curl in my sneakers. My dick throbs in the confines of my jeans, begging for more, and my wish is granted when Blaine rolls his hips, his moan muffled by my mouth as our dicks rub against one another.

“Fuuuck,” he groans against my mouth.

The elevator dings once we reach the sixty-ninth floor—something I’d joke about if I wasn’t so high on sexual adrenaline. He takes my hand and collects my bag from the floor, then practically sprints down the hallway to his apartment. With a quick swipe of his door key, we’re inside, where my bag is swiftly dropped again by an end table.

A sigh escapes me when a warm hand cups the side of my neck. I close my eyes and lean into his touch, reveling in how good his fingers feel against my skin.

“I want you, Alex.” He rests his forehead against mine. Our chests heave as our lungs try to take in as much oxygen as possible. “I want you so fucking much, I might crawl out of my skin if I don’t get to have you soon.”

“I want you, too.” I press my lips against his, loving how desperate he is.

Quickly toeing off my shoes, I barely notice the stunning view outside his window or his impressive apartment when Blaine leads me down the hallway. His bedroom is on the corner of the building; floor-to-ceiling windows take up two sides, allowing a cinematic view of Navy Pier and Lake Michigan, with the moon and stars sparkling on the still lake like a mirror.

It’s beautiful, but not as stunning as the man in front of me, slowly and teasingly unbuttoning his shirt.

“You’re so beautiful.” His words are soft, almost in disbelief.

He steps forward, allowing his shirt to fall open, and takes my lips in a slow, tender kiss.

Gentle.

Savoring the feel of my lips. The taste of my mouth with his tongue.

Pushing the shirt off his shoulders, my hands explore his chest. Grazing over inches of hard muscles and warm skin.

I drop my head back between my shoulder blades, exposing my throat when his lips trail down my jaw to my neck. Hot, open-mouthed kisses trail along my throat, over the pulse that’s fluttering wildly, before moving down to the collar of my shirt.

“I want to fuck you while you’re wearing my name, but not tonight,” he admits, running a finger down my chest. “Tonight, I want to see you. I want to see how far down this fucking blush runs, and I want to kiss every part of you.”

He takes a step back to strip out of his pants, and I follow, removing my clothes and dropping them in a pile on the floor.

Once I’m down to just my boxers, Blaine's eyes roam my body, leaving a path of fire on every inch of my skin. And fuck, he is perfect. Endless muscles, abs carved like stone. A small smattering of hair across firm and sculpted pecs. Biceps flex as he palms his steel-hard length tenting the front of his black boxer briefs.

My cock kicks against the material of my underwear, wanting to be touched.

“Take them off for me, Alex. Show me that beautiful dick of yours.”

I swallow my nerves, hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my boxers, and step out of them. My hard shaft hits my stomach, leaving a smear of precome against my skin.

“Fuck,” Blaine groans. “Can I taste you?”

I nod shakily, my eyes widening when he slides his boxers down his legs and drops to his knees in front of me.

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