“Shh, I’ve got you, my man.” Pisch’s dick filled his mouth again. And the hiss of pleasure Pisch let out soothed the riot in Ian’s head. His praise relieved the tension that had wormed its way into his chest. “Just like that. Fuck, Ian, your mouth is heaven. So fucking good.”
All the tension Ian had released gathered in the base of his spine. And burst out from his balls as he thrust up and turned his head away from Pisch to let out a low curse.
“Fuck!” Richards shouted, repeating Ian’s word. “Oh fuck, yes!”
He leaned back against Ian, resting all his weight on Ian’s lap.
And all the feel goods in Ian had him wanting to hold the rookie. To tell him that had been…good. Awesome really.
Does he regret it? Will he? Will you?
Too complicated for Ian’s brain at the moment. He twisted his wrists, almost falling forward with Richards when Pisch undid the belt.
His arms were heavy as he wrapped them around Richards. He kissed Richards’ shoulder. “I take it back. You’re the best cock sucker in the world. I’m glad I got to fuck you.”
Pisch’s lips parted. He made a strangled sound and then shook his head.
Richards burst out laughing, tipping his head back to give Ian a light kiss. “I love you, man. Not in a weird way. I won’t try to ‘keep you’.” He gave Pisch a sly look. “Fucking tempting though. If you’re this good tied up, how good would you be free?”
Ian shuddered as Richards’ body clenched around him. The pressure on his oversensitive cock gave him a harsh dose of reality. What if Richards wanted more? Everything he had belonged to Pisch. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he’d have to find someone else if he needed a relationship that would last.
Someone who could deal with Pisch being a constant in his life. Someone Pisch wouldn’t believe he was moving on with.
Richards couldn’t be that someone. As fucking hot as fucking him had been, Ian still preferred girls. And Pisch.
Why couldn’t he have both?
Be kinda hard if the kid gets attached.
Yeah, but he couldn’t very well tell Richards that right after fucking him.
“Are you good with not keeping me? We’re still friends, right?” Was that the right thing to say? He was still holding Richards. Things weren’t weird. Yet.
Richards pressed his lips to the center of his forehead. “Totally cool, man. You good with me moving?”
Moving? Damn, Richards was still holding him snug in his body. And he hadn’t even noticed. He nodded, his throat suddenly dry. None of this should be okay. This wasn’t him.
But clearly it was.
This is fine. It happened. Just don’t be an ass to the kid, he’s more fragile than Pisch.
Pisch. Was Pisch okay with this?
Had he even gotten off?
His head was heavy and didn’t seem to want to move much. So he reached out.
And felt Pisch’s strong hand take his.
Richards’ squirmed uncomfortably. “Bruiser?”
“Yeah…yeah, I’m good.” Ian helped Richards stand with his free hand. “Uh…you’re not rushing out, are you?”
The rookie’s youthful face creased. “Not unless you want me to? I’m still living with Coach Shero and, like…him and his wife are really sweet, but it would be weird to go back there after…”
“Stay, Richards.” Pisch tugged Ian to his feet. “You’re both staying. I’ve got a big bed.”
That was the truth. Ian hadn’t paid much attention before, but as he ambled sleepily into his best friend’s room, he realized there would be plenty of room for the three of them. He dropped onto the bed after kicking off his jeans and let his eyes drift shut.
Realizing he wished the bed was smaller.
Wondering if he’d ever accept having to share it with anyone other than Pisch.
I am so gonna need a nap before the game.
Shawn slipped out of bed, careful not to wake White, who was snoring softly. The man had one bare leg half off the side of the bed and his pillow in a stranglehold against his chest. Shawn had gone to the spare room to fetch the one his man—that White—usually used when he crashed here unexpectedly. A few weeks ago, Shawn had found a vintage Ninja Turtle pillowcase and bought it for him in a rare sentimental moment. He hadn’t actually given it to White, but White found it in the linen closet while grabbing a towel and claimed it.
He’d never asked why Shawn had it. Maybe he didn’t know it had been intended for him. Doubtful, but at least things hadn’t gotten awkward.
This morning might be awkward, but he had at least an hour before White would stumble out of bed. Obviously, Richards was already up, but the rookie had a laid back attitude about pretty much everything. He might come off as shy, but away from the team he’d shown a different side. Given both Shawn and White a glimpse of a young man owning his sexuality. Comfortable going after he wanted.
Hopefully, that attitude would spare him losing his heart to any more men who were only looking for a good time.
Like you?
Shawn sighed and shook his head. He needed coffee before he’d start considering the consequences of last night. Richards was less experienced than the men he usually fucked around with. And White…
Yes, coffee is a very good idea.
In the kitchen, completely naked, Richards stood at the counter, pouring two cups of coffee. He gave Shawn a naughty grin as he glanced over his shoulder. “I figured you’d be up first. Want some?”
The double meaning was intentional. Shawn folded his arms over his bare chest; happy he’d taken the time to change into black silk pajama pants before crawling in bed. Meeting the rookie in the kitchen naked would have put him at a disadvantage. Not that his pants did much to hide his swelling erection, but the cheeky—very fucking cheeky, damn the kid had a nice tight ass—young man was still somewhat vulnerable. No matter how sure of himself he came off as.
“You ‘figured’ I’d be up first and assumed I’m appreciate you being naked in my kitchen?” Shawn arched a brow when Richards’ lips parted. “Last night was a one time thing, Richards. I was very clear.”
Brow furrowing, Richards held out one of the coffees. He didn’t speak until Shawn went to the fridge to add a splash of cream.
“You said I couldn’t expect more from you. Like, a commitment.” Richards took a sip of coffee and made a face. The he jutted his chin up. “I don’t want that. I just want to fucking make you come. You didn’t when White was sucking your dick. I would have finished you off, but you looked all worried about him.”
Nodding slowly, Shawn took a sip of his own coffee. Which taste like dishwater.
Richards clearly didn’t drink coffee regularly. He’d made it for Shawn. Badly, but the effort was appreciated.
Not so much that Shawn would drink the weak shit, but he’d be patient with the boy.
“White had never been with another man.” Besides me, but that’s none of Richards’ business. “I probably shouldn’t have pushed him so far, but he did well. Fun was had by all. The end.” Shawn set his mug on the counter, giving Richards a pointed look when the rookie stood there, staring at him. Finally, Richards moved so Shawn could get to the coffee maker. “Don’t drink that. I’ll show you how to make a proper pot of coffee.” He noticed a jar of instant coffee by the machine and spit out a laugh. “You didn’t seriously make instant coffee in the coffee maker?”
Red spread across Richards’ cheeks. “What’s the difference?”
Shaking his head, Shawn cleaned the filter, washed every piece of the coffee maker, then prepared a proper pot with his favorite French roast. “The difference is the result. When you rush things, you end up with the cheapest, weakest, possibility. When you take your time…” Shawn turned to Richards, brushing his fingers over the rookie’s cheek. Down to his lips. Moving closer as he let his tone deepen. “You have something worth so much more. Even if it’s just for the taste.”
The way Richards trembled,
his breaths coming out in sharp little bursts, ruined Shawn’s intention to teach the young man a lesson. He couldn’t ignore how fucking sexy, and available, and willing Richards was. The toned, naked body in front of him was tempting as hell, and he had no reason to deny himself.
He pinned Richards against the fridge, reaching down to cup his soft, smoothly shaven balls. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. Go to my room and get a condom and the lube from my bedside table. If you wake White, you’ll pay.”
With a shudder, Richards nodded, rushing off the second Shawn released him. He was so quiet, Shawn didn’t even notice him returning as he enjoyed the first sip of perfectly brewed coffee.
With the rich flavor still on his tongue, he crooked his finger at Richards, pulling his wiry body close as he claimed his lips. He kept the kiss light, seductive enough to have Richards squirming against him, but leaving no doubt that this was all about sex.
And the low moan Richards let out as Shawn pushed him against the counter made it clear the rookie understood. He didn’t need sweet words or promises. He’d been honest when he’d said he wouldn’t ask for more than a good time.
From Shawn anyway, but that was all that mattered now.
Wasting no time after quickly slipping on the condom and slicking Richards’ tight hole with lube, Shawn sank into the snug heat, groaning as he found no resistance. The tight grip on his cock reminded him that he hadn’t found release last night. His body was a little too eager to claim it, but he held back, determined to make their last time together good for them both.
Hands gripping Richards’ hips, he ground in, sucking lightly on Richards’ shoulder as he fucked him. He hit the same spot over and over when he heard Richards whimper and slammed in deep and fast as the rookie came hard.
His own release came as a steady, satisfying rush. Much like finishing off his first cup of coffee. Not life changing, but very satisfying.
The satisfaction was cut short as he heard his front door slam.
Chapter 8
Second home game of the second round of the playoffs and Justina was a nervous wreck. Not for herself, she’d done fine during the pre-game show, but after letting Akira convince her to watch the game from the press box, she wasn’t sure she could take much more of her beloved team being absolutely decimated by the Leafs.
The Leafs of all teams. She’d kinda been happy for the fans of the team when they’d made the playoffs, which they hadn’t done since 2004. The loyal fans deserved something good after all this time, but not at the expense of the Cobras.
Only, from the way Dean Richter cursed every bad play, the Cobras clearly weren’t doing what they should be to win. There was something off. Key players were making stupid passes. And their small mistakes became bigger ones when the rest of the team struggled to figure out what the hell they were doing.
Luke Carter, one of the top six, lost control of the puck, leading to a giveaway that almost ended up in the back of the Cobra’s net.
And Richter slammed his fist on the ledge of the window cutting the press box off from the crowd. “His contract is done this summer. That’s it. I’m looking into what we can get for him.”
Justina bit her bottom lip, her throat tightening. She loved Carter. He was an awesome player, and she didn’t want him going anywhere.
Silver Delgado, Richter’s fiancé—girlfriend?—let out a soft laugh. “After approaching Ramos’s agent about a contract extension that could get interesting. But Jami has dual citizenship, right? I’m sure she’ll let us visit when she’s done hating you.”
“I won’t keep a player because my daughter is involved with him.”
“And you shouldn’t. But you should keep him because he’s one of the highest scoring players on our team. And also because you love your job and Keane will fire you if you made a trade like that.”
Richter huffed, but he didn’t mention trading Carter again.
Letting out a soft sigh of relief, Justina glanced over at Akira when she laughed.
Akira shook her head. “You’re adorable when you watch the game. And I’m sorry you heard that.” She lowered her voice even more, though she’d already been careful to make sure the GM couldn’t hear her. “I keep forgetting you haven’t been exposed to some of the drama around here. Ford comes home in a bad mood every time a stupid trade even becomes a rumor. Last week it was another one about Perron getting a huge offer. And he has a no-trade clause. But Ford is worried about his sister and her new baby, so he got pissed, and no one would tell him anything.”
That had to be frustrating. But the team was a family business, wasn’t it? Justina had never met Keane, but she’d heard of him. She assumed he worked with the Delgado family. Which meant Ford had a say, right?
“How’s the baby? Or…is it okay to ask? I don’t wanna be nosey, just you and Jami are friends, and I heard Jami planned to adopt the baby, but she seems to be doing okay…” Damn, she sounded like she should never be out in public, didn’t she? ‘How’s the baby’ would have been enough. The rest was stupidly intrusive.
Nudging her shoulder, Akira laughed. “We’re friends, Justina. You’re allowed to ask stuff. Stop looking like you feel guilty about opening your mouth.”
“I don’t have many friends.”
Loser. Why would you say that?
Akira frowned. “I know. But you have us. Me, Jami, and Sahara. And I am gonna get you out of that damn shell if I have to pry you out.” She grinned. “The baby is doing good. He’s such a cutie! Makes me want one, but don’t you dare tell Ford. Cort’s still kinda freaked out at the idea of kids, but Ford has this look in his eyes… I swear, my period is ten times worse since Westy was born. My baby maker is punishing me. Part of me sees Ford holding his nephew and is like ‘I want that for us!’. But I have plans. And I know I’d regret it if I didn’t put everything I have into making my dreams a reality. I want my child to come into a world where I can show him or her that I’m the person I want to be.”
Akira is my freakin’ hero. Justina smiled and nodded. “That makes sense. Both my parents have jobs they hate. They love me and Chris, but…well, they always tell us to do what we want with our lives first. They were so happy when I made the team. My mom said I need to listen to my trainers and make sure I don’t get…”
Her throat tightened. She hated using the word ‘fat’. She’d seen how depressed her mother got when people whispered behind her back when she squeezed into a chair. Justina knew she was lucky to be in good shape, but whenever she gained a few pounds, she heard her mother crying, like she had when she tried on clothes while shopping. When someone told her they didn’t make clothes for women like her.
Akira and Sahara had stood up for Justina when the Ice Girls’ old manager had come down on her about being bigger than the rest of the girls, but her mom…her mom had told her to listen to the criticism and take their advice. Go on a diet. Exercise.
‘Don’t let yourself go, baby. You can’t come back from that.’
She exercised all the time. Ate all the right food. When she looked in the mirror, part of her was proud of her body. She was fit. Her body was strong enough to do all she asked of it.
But if she bent over and her stomach bulged a little, her mother’s voice came to her. Telling her one wrong move and she would be miserable.
“Justina, I’m sure your mother is a wonderful woman, but you need to be happy with the person you see in the mirror.” Akira put one arm around her and gave her a tight squeeze. “Enough of that though, unless you need to talk.” She nodded when Justina shook her head. “Okay, so our boys are not doing well tonight. And Cort is gonna be thrilled that his team is sweeping their series, so things will be tense at home. I kinda wish he and Ford would kiss and make up, but they’d rather bash each other’s teams and be complete jerks. If we’re lucky this weekend, Cort will be practicing the single tail on the man we both love. You wanna watch with me?”
Really? She loved Akira, but she couldn’t believe how
open the woman was about her sex life. She wanted her boyfriends to kiss? Not a bad thing, but shouldn’t she be loving all the attention?
Justina had never watched guys kiss. Or anyone kiss, really. Yeah, she watched movies, and more than kissing happened, but her parents were usually there, so she’d find something else to look at. Like the wall.
Get over it. You’ll be seeing a lot more than that at the club.
“You just went pale. What’s wrong?” Akira put a hand on her shoulder, her brow drawn with concern. “White’s taken worse hits. I didn’t even realize you were watching the game—”
“I wasn’t.” Justina bit her bottom lip as she watched Ian White, one of the team’s fourth line enforcers, who didn’t see much ice time, struggle to rise from the ice, shaking his head and waving Scott Demyan, the team’s best sniper, away. She watched the replay of White being slammed into from behind as he dug the puck out of a crowd. He’d been hit right in the numbers. Cracked his head into the boards.
Should have been a penalty. When one wasn’t called, the crowd went nuts.
She ground her teeth. “Those refs hate us! That hit will be reviewed by the league! How the hell did they miss it?”
“I know, right?” Akira watched with her as White skated to the bench. Then disappeared into the locker room. “He’s tough, but I don’t think his head can take much more.”
“He’s only been in ten fights this season. Yeah, it was a bad hit, but he was skating fine.” Justina had read a lot of random things about hockey then started researching everything she wasn’t sure of. Like head injuries. She’d watched enough clips of players that ended up with a concussion that she was willing to bet White was fine.
But she could be wrong.
She hoped she wasn’t.
“OMG!” Akira pointed at the ice. “Pischlar never fights, but he dropped the gloves the second the puck dropped.”
Shawn Pischlar was one of the few guys she had never seen without his helmet on, but as he dodged a punch from the Leaf’s heavy hitter, his helmet went flying. The jumbotron gave a nice close-up before the refs jumped in.
Line Brawl: The Dartmouth Cobras #8 Page 10
