Page 187 of Pucking Sweet

“We’ll do the finger in the ass next time,” I tease, giving his ass one last wet smack because I can. “Maybe Poppy can do the honors while I suck you down.”

He just groans, still slightly incoherent. Slowly, he rolls with his shoulder, turning to face me. There’s a look of bliss on his face. I smile because I know I put it there. Reaching out, I stroke his face. His parted lips brush my palm.

“I don’t know how to keep this quiet around the other guys,” he admits. “I don’t want to.”

“I know. I don’t want to either. But we have to be whole first. We need Poppy.”

His head is tipped back against the wall, eyes shut tight. “She hates me.”

“She loves you more than her own life,” I counter. “It’s the only way she knows how to love.”

“She’s mad at me.”

“She’s hurt, and she’s scared, and her trust in you is shaken. It’s reparable.”

He shakes his head. “She’ll never trust me with this kid. Not after I told her I don’t want one.”

“You’ll show her you’re ready. You’ll do what you do best.”

He frowns, opening one eye to squint at me. “Play hockey?”

I sigh, giving his half-hard dick a tap. He winces, shifting away with a muttered curse. “I meant you’ll be you,” I say. “Be a chaotic double Scorpio and show her with action. You love her, right?”

He rolls his head to glare at me. “Don’t be a dick.”

I sigh. “Okay, well, show her with action, but at leastonceyou’re gonna need to say those three little words, Nov.”

He rubs his hand absently over his new cock and balls tattoo. “Fuck, why is this so hard?”

I give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Welcome to an adult relationship. Now, clean your jizz off my shower tiles. And get ready quick. We’re gonna be late for the plane.”

69

Listen, there are no guarantees in public relations. You can think a story angle is compelling, and pray it brings you some good press, only for it to fall flat. You can post an innocent picture of a player standing by a balloon arch, and have that picture become a banner cry for environmental reform. Social media is a hellscape. Fans choose violence every day.

In the midst of this chaos, there is one true and good thing left on this earth. Cute animals. It doesn’t matter who you are—your religious affiliation, your stance on rainbow-colored tape on hockey sticks. Everyone loves cute baby animals.

So, when the Jacksonville Humane Society approached me, asking if the Rays would like to be an official sponsor, I jumped at the chance. Today, we’re shooting our first promo. All the animals featured will be available for adoption at tomorrow’s home game.

Working with Claribel and our media team, we get everything set up for an on-ice commercial spot. We’ve got the banners set, the carpet is all laid out, the animals are ready. Now, where the heck are my hockey players?

“You told them all eleven o’clock, right?” I say at Claribel.

A few of the dogs yip excitedly in their cages.

“I told them eleven,” she replies.

I groan, pulling out my phone. It’s almost 11:30 a.m. I don’t have any missed texts or calls. “Who all volunteered?”

“Morrow, Jake Price—Woody was in, but he had to leave,” Claribel reads out from her phone.

“I guess I can see if any more players are hanging around. Otherwise, you’re gonna have to pick up that Chihuahua and say ‘cheese.’” I turn around and groan with relief. Colton is walking toward me, a smile on his face. My own smile falls to see who is walking at his side.

Oh god, has Lukas gotten more beautiful in the time we’ve been apart? How is that possible? How is it fair? It’s not like I haven’t seen him around, but I’ve been doing my best to keep my distance. I don’t let myself get too close. Certainly not this close. The wanting is just too painful.

My eyes immediately fix on the thin red line along his jaw. The cut ends at his hairline right above his ear. Heavens, it could’ve been so much worse. An inch or two lower or higher…

I swallow, pushing that fear down deep. The doctors did an amazing job. It should heal up well, leaving hardly any scar.

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