Page 119 of Hot for the Hockey Player
“Christ,” he murmured, his fingers tightening their hold on my scalp as he held me there.
I used one hand to pump his shaft, following the rhythm of my mouth, while the other hand came up and gently cupped and massaged his balls.He groaned low and deep in his chest as I brought him back out and sucked the head again, flicking my tongue over the slit at the top and making him suck in a sharp breath.
Raking my teeth gently down the length of him, I hummed some more, and he twitched against the back of my throat.“Close,” he grunted, giving my head the slightest of pushes.So I took him just a little bit deeper.I kept going until I felt his balls retract against his body.He went still and his cock began to pulse in my mouth, shooting hot, salty cum across my tongue and down my throat.I swallowed as fast as I could, making sure my throat contractions massaged his cockhead, heightening his pleasure, as he quietly groaned and panted.
Once I knew he was done, I carefully pulled back and released him with a wet pop.I had barely stood up before he had me on my back and was yanking off my pants.“My turn,” he growled, the glint in his eyes sinister in all the best ways.
So what if we were a little late to cheese making?I happened to think we had one hell of a good excuse.And when Maverick Roy was hungry, who was I to deny him his favorite meal?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Maverick
“Sowegettomakeeitherpaneer, queso fresco, or ricotta,” I said to Gabrielle as she stirred the full-fat milk on the single burner and I added the fresh lemon juice.“Which one would you prefer?”
“Is there much of a difference?”I loved that she was trying to not let the eyes on us bother her.Because there were certainly some eyes.A few people I recognized from the grocery store and pub were taking the class with us and glancing at how close she and I stood beside each other.Or, rather, how closeIstood beside her.Staking my claim so to speak.And also, she just smelled fucking fantastic, and after our sexy morning, all I wanted was to just touch her—all the time.
“Ricotta is looser, I think.Paneer is tighter.Queso fresco is somewhere in the middle.”
Glancing up at me, still stirring, she hit me with those sexy amber eyes, and immediately, I was transported back to this morning with her on her knees, my cock in her mouth as she took me straight to heaven.“How about queso fresco, and I’ll make pulled chicken tacos tonight.”
My mouth instantly started to water.“Perfect.”
“All right, everyone, once you see the curds and whey begin to separate, we’re going to take it off the hot plate and let it rest for twenty or thirty minutes to fully separate,” Fred said.“So go … sit on a tuffet like Miss Muffet, or you can wander into the barnyard where you will absolutely be mauled by attention-whore goats.”
Snorting, I placed the cover over the pot and removed it from the heat, setting it on the rough wooden work bench.“Shall we go get mauled by goats?”
Her eyes glittered, and she nodded.“Lucky for me, I brought my goat-proof jacket—andit’s not raining.”
“It’s like the goat mauling was meant to be.”I reached for her hand, and to my delight, she let me take it.I led her out to the barnyard with the rest of the cheese making people, where we brushed and pet the goats for half an hour.
By the time the cheese making class was over, Gabrielle seemed much more relaxed to not only be seen with me, but also bewithme.She even introduced me to Shelley Diamond, who I recognized as a clerk from the grocery store.
With our bellies gently rumbling, I started driving us back to the vineyard with the intention of dropping her off and heading to my cabin for a few hours.Only, her suggestion thatwehead back to the cabin had me cranking hard on the steering wheel at the junction and going right, rather than left.Any chance to get this woman alone, and I was going to take it.
We reached the pub property, and I actually had to drop my visor down since the afternoon sun was so bright and blinding.The air was still cool, but we could all feel the hints of spring in the air.The first daffodils of the season were already beginning to poke their heads out of the dirt to join the snowdrops and crocuses that littered the side of the road like nature’s confetti.
The parking lot for the pub was full.So I slowed right down, taking the grassy roadway to the cabins at a snail’s pace.What I wasn’t expecting to find parked in front of my cabin was a rental pickup truck, very similar to mine—only red.
“Are you expecting someone?”Gabrielle asked as I pulled the truck over to the side as best I could, since the truck was taking upbothparking spaces in my small little driveway.
“No.Maybe it’s a guest in one of the other cabins and they just got confused which parking spaces were theirs?”
“I love that you’re giving this person the benefit of the doubt.”She smiled at me.“I think I see someone in the cab.It should be easy enough to ask them to move.”
Nodding, I kept the truck running, just put it in park, and hopped out, walking around to the driver’s side door of the red Ford.I lifted my fist, preparing to tap on the window, but froze when I came face-to-face with my father.
And he did not look happy.
Seeing me standing there, Kirby Roy—Hockey Hall of Famer and former defenseman for Nashville—climbed out of the truck, attempting to intimidate me the way he always did.He was a big guy, and until I started going to the gym and hit my growth spurt at sixteen, he was bigger than me.Not anymore.Iwas the tallest andbiggestof all the men in my family.And they all knew it.
But that didn’t stop them from still trying to lookdownat me.Or should I say, look downonme?
“Son,” he said, dropping his voice low.
“Hi, Dad,” I greeted, refusing to let my voice quaver or my knees shake.He was here to “knock some sense into me.”I knew he was.But I refused to let that “sense” penetrate, because he was wrong.
I didn’t even have to dig “deep down” inside myself to know Kirby Roy, my brothers, Henderson, and so many other hockey players in the league were wrong.
