Hot Off the Ice Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by A. E. Wasp

  This close, his eyes were a crystalline sky blue, and his eyelashes were a thick, sandy blonde fringe. With his pink cheeks and porcelain skin, the effect was surprisingly delicate.

  “Kiss me?” Paul asked.

  “You sure?” Robbie replied.

  “Sure I want you to kiss me, or sure it’s a good idea?”

  Robbie slid his hand under the back of Paul’s white undershirt. “Both.”

  “I’m sure I want you to kiss me, and I think it might be a terrible idea.”

  “Me, too,” Robbie said leaning in to kiss him anyway.

  The kiss started soft and gentle, fitting for the sleepy vibe and the late afternoon sun slanting through the huge windows.

  After a few closed-mouth kisses, Paul tightened his hold on Robbie and rolled them until Robbie lay blanketed over him. “More,” he demanded. Robbie obliged, pushing into Paul’s mouth.

  Paul spread his legs, his knees coming up around Robbie’s sides. Robbie rubbed his hips against Paul’s thigh.

  Paul moaned slightly and lifted his hips to meet Robbie’s thrusts. His hands crept down to Robbie’s ass as if Paul weren’t sure it was allowed. Reaching down, Robbie wrapped Paul’s hand firmly around his ass.

  “Oh, fuck,” Paul whispered. “That feels so good. Why does it feel so good?” he asked again.

  “Because I have a great ass?” Robbie joked against Paul’s mouth, attempting to lighten up a moment that felt poised on the edge of more than Robbie wanted to deal with.

  “No,” Paul said, sounding almost angry. His fingers bit into Robbie’s cheeks, driving them tighter against each other. “Why does touching you feel so different, so much better than touching a girl?” He sounded pained as if he needed Robbie to have an answer.

  Robbie pushed back until he was sitting between Paul’s legs, his hands on Paul’s knees. “I don’t know. Because you’re gay?”

  Paul pulled Robbie back down to him with a groan. There was nothing soft or gentle about their kisses this time. They were wet and loud and punctuated by sharp inhales and hissed exhales as their erections rubbed over and against each other.

  Paul’s fingers toyed nervously with the waistband of Robbie’s underwear.

  Robbie suddenly knew Paul hadn’t done anything with a guy since the night they’d shared two years ago. “Do it, c’mon, touch me.”

  Wide-eyed, Paul slid his hot hands down the back of Robbie’s briefs.

  “Fuck, yeah,” Robbie said as Paul squeezed with both hands, his long fingers caressing the soft crease where leg met butt. Way more gently than he wanted to, he bit at the curve of Paul’s neck and was rewarded with a shudder and the lurching of Paul’s cock.

  Their careful exploration of each other’s bodies was rudely interrupted by a deafening, shrill beep. Before Robbie could even ask what it was, a loud recorded voice announced that a fire emergency had been reported in the building and that everyone should proceed to the nearest fire exit and evacuate the building.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Paul groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Is the whole damn world trying to cock block me?”

  Robbie jumped off the bed and threw Paul’s shirt at him. “Get dressed. Try to look less like you’ve been, well, doing what we were doing.”

  “Damn it,” Paul said, jumping into his pants while looking for his shoes at the same time. He grabbed their overcoats while Robbie grabbed their messenger bags. They might be outside for a while, and the Chicago weather in early December was no joke.

  The shrieking continued until Robbie thought it would drive him mad. Out in the hallway, it was even worse with flashing lights and the rest of his teammates streaming out in various stages of undress.

  “Think it’s real?” he asked Jake. Luckily for him, he had on some cozy looking sweatpants and a sweatshirt under his overcoat.

  “Could be. Hope not,” he added.

  “Me, too.”

  Jake pushed open the fire door, and they started down the stairs.

  It turned out to be a false alarm, but by the time the hotel got everything sorted out and let guests back into the building, they were barely able to grab their stuff and get to the arena before the start of the game.

  At least they won the game in Chicago, even if going directly to the airport afterward, flying to Detroit and checking into another hotel left them too exhausted to do anything but collapse into bed at the end of the evening.

  Luckily, they were both full of energy after winning the game in Detroit. They were back at the hotel and things were progressing nicely. He had Paul pressed between him and the door and his hand one Paul’s dick. Then he had a horrible realization.

  15

  Paul

  “What do you mean we can’t come?” Paul’s head thudded back against the door Robbie had pushed him against the minute they were in the room.

  He couldn’t process what Robbie was saying. Seemed to him like they’d been well on their way to orgasm-city a second ago. Paul was more than ready. This was the first chance they’d had to do more than make out since the night before when they’d had a spectacular and unexpected win against the Red Wings.

  “Look,” Robbie said reasonably as if Paul could be anything approaching reasonable with Robbie’s hand on his dick. The bastard was brushing his fingers over Paul’s balls even as he explained why no one—no one in this room anyway—was going to get off.

  “We won last night, right?”

  “Yeah? And?”

  “And the night before?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, we keep getting interrupted before we can, ah, finish. And it’s making you all frustrated and on edge.”

  “Damn right, I am.” Between the exhausting travel schedule, the constant presence of their teammates, and stupid fire alarms, they hadn’t been able to do more than share a few quick, unsatisfying, groping sessions despite having a hotel room all to themselves.

  Now they were finally in the room alone after escaping from the celebration down at the hotel bar. They had the day off tomorrow, and Paul’s plan had been to get into bed and stay there as long as they could before someone inevitably came looking for them.

  Privacy on the road was a rare commodity. And now they were going to waste it by not having sex?

  Robbie leaned in, his breath ghosting over Paul’s neck. He pressed his tongue against the pulse there, and Paul shivered. He didn’t know why, but that weakened his knees every time. “Shit,” he whispered.

  “You were on fire out there. We were awesome together.”

  Grabbing a handful of his soft hair, Paul pulled Robbie’s head up. “Yeah, we were.” He flipped them, putting Robbie’s back against the door and kissing the breath out of him until Robbie was whimpering and trying to push Paul off.

  “Wait, wait,” he said, hands flat on Paul’s chest.

  “What?” Paul asked with a pained sigh, rolling his forehead across Robbie’s.

  “I think,” he said through deep breaths, “I think that all this sexual frustration is why we were so good.”

  Paul was sexually frustrated all right. Robbie looked half-wrecked, too. Eyes bright and unfocused, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen and pink. His jacket lay on the floor at their feet, his tie hung loosely around his neck, and his cock made a huge tent in his impeccably-tailored suit pants.

  “But I haven’t even gotten to touch your dick yet,” he said, defeat in his voice. They’d gone further in a couple of hours back in Minnesota than they had in the four days since they’d started this thing.

  Robbie pulled Paul’s hand to him, pressing it against his cock. “You will. I promise. You can touch it right now. But you can’t come, and you can’t make me come.”

  Paul closed his eyes and took his hand back, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew what Robbie was thinking now. “Until we lose, right?”

  “Yeah,” Robbie said.

  “I’ll throw the next game then,” he said as Robbie grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket
that he miraculously still wore.

  “You won’t,” Robbie said smugly, pushing Paul’s jacket down his arms.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Not until we lose.”

  “Fucking superstitious hockey players,” Paul cursed.

  “Do you want to risk it?” Robbie asked. “How would you feel if I dropped to my knees right now and sucked your brains out through your dick, and then we lost?”

  Paul knew then that he wasn’t going to come tonight. “I hate you.”

  “We can do anything you want,” Robbie said breathlessly. “Except that.” There was an almost feral look in his eyes, and his hands were clenched at his sides.

  “Oh, my God,” Paul exclaimed. “You love this. You’re getting off on not getting off.”

  Robbie’s blush and the challenge in his eyes were all the answer Paul needed.

  Paul shook his head. “I can’t tell if that makes you a sadist, a masochist, or both,” he said, impressed despite his frustration. He was beginning to see the appeal of Robbie’s plan.

  Robbie pushed himself off the door. Paul took a step back at the look in his eyes. “Now what would a nice boy such as you know about either of those things?”

  “Enough.” Granted, ninety-five percent of all of Paul’s sexual knowledge was theoretical. But he had a feeling he was about to get some more hands-on experience.

  Five minutes later, they were lying face to face on the bed, still mostly dressed. Screw the suits, tomorrow was a day off; they had time enough to get them dry-cleaned.

  Paul had finally gotten his hand on Robbie’s cock. He’d almost come when he’d carefully peeled back the sides of Robbie’s fly and lowered his underwear carefully over the head. “We’re getting you some decent underwear,” he muttered in a desperate effort to distract himself from the velvet over steel feel of Robbie’s cock against his palm.

  He gave an experimental stroke, curving his fingers around the thick width and sliding slowly up from root to tip.

  Robbie twitched, almost pulsing against his palm, and made the sexiest sound Paul had ever heard. He had to hear it again. He tightened his fingers, rubbing his thumb across the tip before sliding back down torturously slowly and almost too dry.

  “Jesus,” Robbie forced out between clenched teeth. “Stop. Stop.” He pushed Paul’s hand away and threw his arm across his eyes while he struggled to pull back from the brink.

  Paul thought the way he looked then would be seared into his brain forever. Spread out on his back, white dress shirt completely unbuttoned and open, his pants unzipped and pushed down his thighs, Robbie was a long line of muscles and skin from the pulse throbbing at the base of his throat, to the hard cock twitching against the dark nest of curls Paul was dying to scratch his nails through.

  He didn’t think he would ever be over how visceral his reaction was to Robbie’s body. In contrast to Paul’s sinewy muscles, Robbie’s curved under his skin in plush swells. Paul wanted to follow those curves with his hands and mouth, wanted to sink his teeth into Robbie’s thick thighs.

  If he was completely honest, the intensity of his desire terrified Paul. Deep in his brain, he worried that it couldn’t be normal to physically want somebody this much. The things he wanted to do and have done to him went so far beyond what he’d been taught was natural.

  “Okay,” Robbie said, sending Paul’s fear scattering back to the depth of his mind. “Okay.” He sat up and pulled off his shirt, tossing it to the floor. Lifting his hips, he tugged his pants off as well, then sat up and turned to Paul.

  Paul’s mouth was dry as a desert, and his heart slammed against his chest as Robbie slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He gasped when Robbie slipped his thumb under the cuffs as he undid them, gently caressing the thin skin there.

  Fuck.

  Paul shrugged the shirt to the carpet, so keyed up that the feel of the cloth sliding over his skin raised goose bumps on his arms.

  Keeping his eyes locked on Paul and watching for any sign of hesitation, Robbie tugged him up to stand between his legs. With a kiss to his bare stomach, he flicked his tongue against Paul’s navel in a move that had Paul grasping onto his shoulders for support.

  “Fuck,” Paul said out loud this time. Naively, he’d thought that the only touch that mattered was a hand or a mouth directly on his dick. Robbie had turned his entire body into one big erogenous zone. He couldn’t imagine anywhere Robbie could touch him that wouldn’t feel amazing.

  “This okay?” Robbie asked with a hand on his belt.

  Paul nodded, not trusting his voice.

  By the time Robbie tapped on his knee like he was a show horse to get him to step out of his pants, Paul was trembling from head to toe. There was a wide damp spot where his cock strained against the black cotton of his boxers. He couldn’t remember ever being so hard.

  Robbie's eyes zeroed in on the hard length, and he licked his lips.

  When he reached for the elastic waistband, Paul stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “I can’t. I won’t be able to…” Just thinking about it had Paul trembling.

  “Do you want to stop?” Robbie asked. “We absolutely can. I only want you to feel good. Do you feel good?”

  Paul exhaled a shaky breath. “Way too fucking good.”

  “Do you want me to stop?” Robbie asked again.

  He was torn between running away and asking Robbie to keep touching him forever. “Maybe you could just kiss me?”

  “I would love that,” Robbie said with a smile. Taking Paul by the hand, he tugged him down until he was on his back on the bed.

  He crawled over Paul, trapping him in a cage of arms and legs, then leaned to press almost chaste kisses against Paul’s lips. Connected only by their mouths, Paul’s breathing smoothed out, and his heart stopped beating against his chest so hard.

  That was good. Paul could handle that, as long as their bodies didn’t touch.

  Then Robbie shifted his weight onto one hand and flick his tongue across Paul’s nipple.

  “Oh, shit,” Paul cried as the feeling went straight to his cock.

  “No one ever done that to you before?” Robbie asked with a grin.

  Paul held onto the arm Robbie had planted on the bed, loving the feel of the hard muscles under his hand. “There’s a lot of things no one’s ever done to me,” he admitted. “Do it again.”

  Robbie did. Alternating sides and continuing his maddening kisses and nips at Paul’s lips until he arched off the bed with a yell and had to clamp a hand over his dick to stop from coming.

  Holy fucking shit.

  Robbie fell sideways onto the bed, pressing the heel of his hand painfully against his cock. “We’d better win this fucking game,” he said, voice rough.

  Personally, Paul had never wanted to lose a game so badly in his life. Rolling silently out of bed, overwhelmed with feeling, he almost ran into the bathroom.

  As he let the cold water sluice over his overheated body, he marveled again over how not coming with Robbie was a thousand times better than any orgasm he’d had with the few women he’d slept with.

  This thing with Robbie was starting to feel like an addiction, like an obsession. And it wasn’t just the sex. They’d spent almost every minute, waking and sleeping, together the last few days, and Paul still wanted more.

  Shutting off the water, Paul dried off, then eying his dirty underwear with distaste, wrapped a towel around his waist and went out.

  He pulled his last clean pair of underwear out of his suitcase and slipped them up under the towel. With a smile for Robbie, he sat on the other bed, facing him. “Shower’s free,” he said inanely. As if there was a line of people waiting to use it.

  “You gonna sleep over there tonight?” Robbie asked.

  Paul rubbed his palms across the cloud-soft duvet. “If you want me not to jinx us, I’d better.”

  He wasn’t lying. If he slept next to Robbie, he’d probably end up humping him in his sleep; he was that frustrated. He just needed a little space, g
et his thoughts in order. He wished he had someone to talk to about what they were doing, but he couldn’t think of one single person on the planet who could help.

  Luckily, Robbie didn’t call him on his excuse. He laughed sweetly. “I know what you mean. You’re so freaking sexy; it’s hard enough keeping my hands off you in public. I don’t think I would last long with you in my bed.” With a groan, he rolled gracefully out of bed. “I think I will take that shower. Want me to turn the light out?”

  “Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks. Oh, and I guess we have to do some clothes shopping tomorrow.”

  “Or we could do the laundry,” Robbie said dryly.

  Paul scoffed. “We’ll let the hotel do that. But I’m going to get you out of that horrible underwear one way or the other.”

  “I’ll take them off right now if you want.” Robbie hooked his fingers in the waistband. “Say the word.”

  Paul’s brain might have been conflicted, but his body knew exactly what it wanted. His cock twitched at the promise of seeing Robbie completely naked. Paul stifled a moan. “The word is I hate you. Go away. You’re a bad man, Rhodes.”

  Robbie laughed out loud, and then shut off the room light. “Night, Paul.”

  “Night, Robbie.” Despite his expectation that the confusion, fear, and desire swirling in his brain would keep him awake all night, Paul fell asleep to the sound of the water running in the shower.

  16

  Robbie

  Robbie approached the giant Twelve Oaks shopping mall the way he imagined most people approach a trip to the dentist. Hockey players got used to the dentist real quick. Arms crossed, he frowned up at the marble and glass Mecca of consumerism.

  Paul paid the Lyft driver and pushed Robbie forward with a hand in the middle of his back. “C’mon, Mr. Crankypants. It will be fun.”

  This close to Christmas, the mall was packed. People streamed around Paul and Robbie’s bodies like water around a rock. The whole place was decorated with a tasteful ostentation that somehow implied Christmas without specifically identifying which light-and-poinsettia-filled winter holiday they were celebrating. Soothing instrumental versions of Christmas music floated across the parking lot.