by R. J. Scott
He stood in a rush, fumbling with his cell phone, then cussing when it hit the floor and bounced under the table. I raised an eyebrow at him when I felt his phone tap my sneaker and land between my feet.
“Could you hand me my phone?” His words were clipped and icy, but the thick ridge of his dick inside his silken trousers belied all that chill and shade he was throwing.
“No, I don’t think so. Why don’t you crawl under the table and get it? What you want is right between my legs,” I replied, lifting my mug to my lips to take a sip. He was clearly battling internally, but his spine stayed stiff and his knees locked. Several long moments ticked by, his beautiful face shifting from one emotion to another with such speed it was hard to keep track of what I thought he was thinking. Then in a move that stunned me, Mark Westman-Reid went down to his hands and knees. I lost sight of him. My balls grew heavy with anticipation. Would he touch me? Would he not? Would he simply grab his phone and huff off in a fit of pique?
I startled sharply when his hands slid up over my thighs. Coffee lurched out of my cup to my clean white T-shirt with the Raptors logo over the heart. I cussed and swiped at the brown stain, then placed my mug on the table right when his fingers found my fly.
Resting back in my chair, I lowered my sight to the man freeing my cock. I could see only his chin, his wet lips, and the tip of his nose. I needed to see more. I needed to look into his eyes as he sucked me off. His fingers bit into my thighs when I went to push my chair back a bit.
“No, stay there,” he said firmly, then nuzzled his soft cheek against my cock. I sucked in a loud breath, grabbed the arms of my chair, and stayed where I was. “If you look at me…”
He didn’t finish that statement because he had sucked my cock into his mouth. He sucked hard and fast for a moment, then took a tight hold of me right by the base and moved back to the tip. There he swirled a pink tongue around and around my cockhead, pressing his tongue into the slit, then rubbing his lips up and down both sides.
My head rolled back, and I let loose a long, hot growl that made Mark moan. He licked and nibbled along the shaft, then took me down his throat again. Then he began working me hard, mouth and hand, until I was on the edge of blowing apart. God, but the man knew how to suck dick. His tongue circled over the head time and again, his fingers, tight and slick with spit, pumped unmercifully. I opened my eyes and glanced down to witness his lips stretched around me and his sultry brown eyes resting on my face. I’d slid down a bit it seemed.
I rolled my hips up, to give him more of my cock, and Mark swallowed it all, right down to his fingers. Then he released my dick and took another four or so inches. His thick eyelashes fluttered down, and my balls drew up. My orgasm slammed into me like a Russian enforcer, knocking the wind out of me. Arching and yanking on the arms of the chair, I heard the crack of wood and felt the left arm go lax in my hand. I dropped the broken bit of wood and cushion, then shoved my fingers into Mark’s hair to hold him in place as I coated his throat with cum. He gagged and moaned and slid off to breathe, his chin soaked with spittle. A thin line of spunk dangled from his lower lip, and he licked it up, eyes burning into me.
I should probably have said something, but for once, I had no words. I simply lay there sprawled out in that busted chair, panting, my cock pulsing, and stared into his eyes.
He picked his phone up, shimmied out from under the table, used his fancy russet cloth napkin to wipe the spit and cum from his lips, and then walked out of the owners' box pretty as you please in his silky pants and airy summer shirt.
I cleared my throat, tucked my soft dick back into my jeans, and zipped up. Somehow, and I wasn’t sure how, but I felt that I’d just had the tables turned on me. And fuck if that sassy exit didn’t stir up a deep desire to get all over the man, preferably on the nearest table, and see if I could spin the dynamic back to me being in charge.
Speaking of being in charge, I had a team down on the ice that I was supposed to be watching and making mental notes about.
“Yep, we’ll do that just as soon as the rubber legs have gone away,” I told the now empty owners’ box. Bet my coffee was cold too.
Eleven
Mark
Our first match of the season, an afternoon game, was spectacularly bad.
Letting in three goals in the first period was one thing, but I also had Robert and Clark Lake there, talking Chrysler cars and watching the game with me. I was mortified because how the hell could I sell a winning team to a potential sponsor when said team was losing. I was lost for words, and I could normally talk my way out of most things. Not that Jason was doing any better. The team’s new interim general manager was doing a good job of being completely quiet.
“I like that youngster in the net,” Robert shared with his brother. “Penn, the one with that cocaine thing.”
I groaned internally. The prospects were not good that the two men were linking Colorado with cocaine and not connecting him to being a possible contract for a goalie.
“It’s just a tryout,” I defended as much as I could without coming out and saying that the coach was messed up and didn’t know what the hell he was doing.
Clark shot me a look, “Seriously? You need to lock that up now. Couple more games and you’ll have a powerhouse down there. Add in Madsen and that Alejandro guy, and we’re looking at a strong restart to the season.” The brothers exchanged looks. “We’d like to see Aarni Lankinen gone, though. He’s a liability.”
I gave them my patented nod of complete understanding and wished I could wave a magic wand to make that happen. The goal horn sounded, and I stared out at the ice, expecting the scoreboard to show that Vancouver was another goal up.
They weren’t. I realized that, even as Robert, Clark, and the entire damn arena rose to their feet and punched the air in unison.
The crowd was chanting, Ry-ker, Ry-ker, and I stood as they replayed the goal. Everything had started right down with Colorado. He’d corralled the puck on a saved shot, passed it to a defenseman who’d shuttled it to another who’d somehow skated through three Vancouver guys, passed to Alejandro, who’d done this impressive stop on the ice, skating back, and blindly passing to Ryker, who’d, and God knows how he did it, managed to swing around the Vancouver goalie and shoot the puck so hard I swore that it left a heat trail. We’d scored.
The crowd was losing their cool below us, dancing and hugging, and I swore, for a moment, the tension in me loosened, and it didn’t stop there.
Colorado blocked the next three shots, as easily as if someone was tossing him a tennis ball. Confident and poised, he guarded the net like a dragon with a hoard, and Ryker’s line shone like the sun, and when the buzzer sounded at the end of the period, Vancouver hadn’t scored again.
By the end of period two, we’d scored twice more, and starting the third we were tied at three goals each. This wasn’t how I’d seen this game going. I didn’t know hockey, but even I could see that Vancouver seemed edgy, trying for shots when maybe they didn’t have a chance, getting into scraps.
“We could win this,” Robert said, and he was nearly dancing. In my head, they signed the sponsorship deal right after this match, and it was tantalizingly close.
“What the hell?” Clark asked and stood up close to the glass, his hands flat there.
I didn’t even want to look, but I had to. An argument between the Vancouver goalie and one of our forwards morphed into a scuffle, and then a fight where both teams appeared to pair off in some kind of sickening dance. The referees were right in the melee, forcing people apart, and then it became obvious who was at the center of the fight.
Aarni Lankinen. He was shouting when the camera zoomed in, throwing punches that no one seemed to be able to stop, and Vancouver were on him like white on rice. When the crowd of players finally parted, Aarni was given a penalty for instigating and, along with two Vancouver players, was shown to the box. The only thing separating the three of them was the plexiglass between the penalty areas for the
Raptors and Vancouver, and Aarni was up, slamming his fist on the glass.
The rest of the game went to shit, and give him his due, Colorado was the main reason we didn’t lose by miles. He only allowed in one more goal, but it was enough to secure Vancouver the win, and that was it. Game over.
I shook hands with Robert and Clark, but I could sense that there was an unspoken conversation they wanted to have.
“We’re happy to sign…” Robert began, but I didn’t celebrate when he looked at his brother and raised an eyebrow.
“But we don’t want to be connected to a team who holds on to the past. We want to be part of the new team you promised us,” Clark finished the joint thought. Unspoken was the name Aarni, but I knew what they meant. They left after promises to keep in touch, and I sat in the closest seat, staring out over the emptying arena.
Jason sat next to me. “Are they going to sign?” he asked and offered me a beer.
I don’t remember ever getting a beer from my big brother. I’d left home before I was legal, but we didn’t even sneak underage drinking onto the list of brotherly things to do. I took the bottle but held it and couldn’t even bring myself to drink. I was confused about tonight. Colorado had played well; so well that he was first star of the game, with Ryker Madsen and a Vancouver player also being named.
It was weird to think that I’d put Colorado down as a nuisance to be dealt with, and I’d been convinced that Aarni wouldn’t be an ass, when tonight I’d been wrong about both of those things. Being wrong was confusing, and knowing I needed to have a conversation with Rowen after I’d avoided him for a few days was acid in my gut.
“They’re not signing yet,” I said with a sigh. “They’re not stupid, and they didn’t come outright and say it, but they want to sponsor a team looking to the future. Not one stuck with players on bloated contracts who are a dead weight.”
“The legacy contracts,” Jason murmured.
“Specifically, Aarni.”
Jason shook his head and swallowed the last of his beer. “The problem will still be there tomorrow.” He stood and stretched tall. “I need to go. Lewis has a diorama to finish for the science fair, and I promised I’d help. You know, invitation to our place is always there. Hotels can be boring, and I know Lewis would love to show you his project.”
I stood and brushed the seat of my pants, leaving the beer on the shelf. “You need to stop doing that, Jason,” I warned. “Blackmailing me to visit isn’t going to fix anything.”
Jason blinked at me, hurt, surprised, but I didn’t stay to talk any more. Instead I beat him out of the room and headed to my office to get the list of other potential sponsors. Unfortunately I got caught up answering emails, and then I spent some time catching up with Lucas in New York. By the time I headed for the parking lot, the arena was quiet, and it was easy to hear the shouting before I came around the corner.
“… that wouldn’t have happened.”
“I know.”
“I’m so fucking disappointed in you, and you can see why, right?”
“I’m sorry.”
I identified Aarni Lankinen and one of the young players still here on tryouts. Henry, if I’d recalled right. They heard me coming. Aarni drew himself tall and backed away from the other player.
“Mr. Westman-Reid,” he acknowledged.
Wide-eyed, Henry looked at me and nodded. There was an air of something happening here, and I didn’t like it.
“Everything okay?” I asked casually.
“Yep.” Aarni was quick to answer.
Henry more so. “Yes, sir.”
I couldn’t fail to notice the proprietary hand on Henry’s arm and the calculating expression on Aarni’s face. What the hell was going on here?
“Goodnight,” I said but then waited by my car, pretending to look at my phone. Aarni and Henry split in different directions, but I made a mental note of what I’d come across and resolved to talk to Rowen about it.
That was, if I could ever face him again after what I’d done. Going to my knees like that, swallowing him down, letting him twist his hands in my hair—what had I been thinking?
Oh, right, I hadn’t been thinking at all. I shut myself in the car before readjusting myself at the memory of the noises Rowen had made as he was coming. I wanted so much more of that.
More? Like what? A fuck over an office desk?
I could imagine it. I could taste his kisses and feel him thrusting inside of me. I was so hard at the thought of it alone, and it was a while before I was calm enough to drive to the hotel.
It’s just sex. Sex is good. You don’t have to like someone to have sex with them.
The knock early the next morning wasn’t expected. I hadn’t called for room service, nor was I in need of towels. Peering through the hole revealed that it was Jason at my door, and I opened it with a huff of irritation. What was Jason doing here at this time of the day?
“Mark.”
It wasn’t just Jason standing there, but Cam and Leigh as well, and in front of Cam was Mom.
She looked older, but then, we hadn’t seen each other for ten years. Leigh had sent photos every so often, but there was nothing like seeing a person in the flesh to notice the lines. She appeared to be well, despite the cancer, and wore a headscarf that matched her flowing dress and a thick jacket twisted intricately to cover her head.
“Mom,” I said but didn’t make a move to touch her until, stiffening my spine, I bussed her cheek with a kiss and stood back. She tried to catch and hold me, but I evaded the touch and ignored the hurt in her eyes. What was it with my mom and brothers appearing to be so damned upset all the time? It wasn’t me who’d left them. It was them who’d thrown me away. I was the one who should feel hurt.
“How are you?” she asked and slid her hand through Jason’s arm, looking a little unsteady this close.
“I’m good,” I said and then saw Cam sigh.
“Are you going to ask us in?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“Mark, please,” Leigh said, and I couldn’t say no to her, the only one in the family who I owed anything to.
“We should talk,” Jason added.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Jesus, can we do this inside?” Cam snapped and glanced down the empty corridor. There were just two suites on this floor, and I was sure the next one was empty right now. But yeah, a family showdown or intervention or whatever the hell this was had to be done in private. The Westman-Reids didn’t do drama in public.
I stepped back from the door and let them in. The suite wasn’t big, but it had a separate sitting room and small kitchen and was my home for the near future. I still hadn’t gotten myself a real place to live, but then I hadn’t exactly decided if I was going to stay in Tucson.
“Why are you still in a hotel?” Mom asked. “The house has plenty of bedrooms.”
“Yeah, not doing that,” I said and rolled my eyes theatrically.
“Your room is still the same,” Jason said.
“Sorry, I stopped staring at One Direction posters when I had to grow the hell up.” I was bitter, and every ounce of vitriol was in that statement.
“Fuck’s sake,” Cam snapped.
I was immediately up in his face. “You have something you want to say?”
Jason pushed between us. “Stop.”
“Asshole,” I muttered.
“Fuck you,” Cam said back.
Mom made a small noise of distress, and Cam was quickly at her side, all his bravado gone in an instant as he guided her to the sofa and fussed over her. She looked pale, and I felt so much guilt I didn’t know what to do with the feeling.
“It’s probably a good idea to clear the air,” Leigh began in the role of mediator.
“He owes me an apology,” Cam muttered.
I took the chair opposite Mom, my brothers leaning against the wall, and Leigh by my side.
“Not now, Cam,” Leigh warned.
I couldn’t le
t that comment slip by. “No, please explain why you think that I owe you an apology, Cam.”
He stared at me, and his expression was a run of confusion, then anger, and finally a good side helping of animosity.
“I’ll go first,” Mom said.
Cam slid down the wall to sit on the floor and shut up, and when Jason did the same, I waited for whatever the hell this was to start.
“Mark, I was wrong, weak, and I should have stopped your dad from cutting you out of our lives. I have no excuse.” She coughed, and Cam reached up and pressed a hand to her arm. She sent him a grateful smile and then looked back at me. “He was a dangerous man,” she said, and I couldn’t fail to see the way she pulled the sleeves of her shirt down on her wrists. “I didn’t care for my children the way I should have. I know that, and I hope we can sit down and talk through everything one day because I will always love you.” She glanced at Jason and nodded.
“My turn, huh?” He cleared his throat. “I was older than you, and I wanted to find a way to fix everything, and when I couldn’t, I was able to retreat to college, and you leaving didn’t touch me. I’d even convinced myself that you’d be okay. Then when I checked on you, I wasn’t able to see a reason why you’d want any of us in your life. You were happy, successful, you had friends, and I was too ashamed to take that first step. I love you, and I’m so sorry that happened, and Lewis genuinely wants to meet you because I talk about you all the time.”
“Uh-huh,” I said and saw Jason wince. “And what great words of wisdom do you want to give me, Cam?”
Cam looked up at me with a stormy expression, and for a few moments, the temper that flared in his eyes was hard to see.
“You never told me!” he shouted, then lowered his voice. “You were my best friend, not just my brother, and you never told me who you were or how you felt. I had to find out you were gay when Dad threw you out. Hell, when you left, you didn’t care, you didn’t look back, and I emailed you, I wrote you fucking letters, for God’s sake. I texted you, called you. I even visited you, and you refused to see me? Remember that?”
