by R J Scott
I learned a lot about the man I’d been so intimate with. We both talked about our childhoods, our plans for the future, and our shared love of sports. He told me a couple of humorous stories about old girlfriends and boyfriends, which answered that big question as well.
Our tastes in music were sort of similar, although he confessed he wasn’t big into music. We liked the same movies and watched a few of the same shows on TV. He wasn’t much of a reader anymore, he admitted, but did enjoy thrillers. I had a weakness for all things Stephen King even though they scared the wits out of me. Max smiled easily, laughed even more easily, and touched me in soft, private ways he didn’t seem ashamed of.
After a small brush of his fingers over my forearm, I leaned over to press my lips to his. He never shrank back or acted afraid of being seen kissing a man.
“You ready to go get naked?” he asked, his words dancing over my lips.
“Yeah.” I had been dreaming about this big man spread over my bed, thick legs and strong arms akimbo, offering all that hairy burly man to me to do with as I wished.
We made the drive to my place. Feeling guilty as all hell, I called the shelter just to make sure my staff was okay with me stealing a couple of hours. This had never happened. Ever. I threw a peek sideways, caught sight of Max and my skin flushed. That man had some kind of wild effect on me.
I noticed the parking space for my aunts was empty and thanked God and all the angels that my aunts were off picketing some poor senator or congressman or judge today. Yes, they still drove. No one at the DMV dared to take their driver’s licenses away.
Once inside my tall, skinny house, I nervously went around opening the windows as Max meandered about, looking at the well-worn furnishings.
“Nice house. Homey. This your husband?” He lifted a picture of Liam and me back in college, both soaked from a tumble from our canoe on a trip we’d taken one spring along the Tioga River in upstate Pennsylvania.
“Yeah, that’s Liam.”
Now I felt icky. Like I was cheating on Liam somehow by bringing Max to our house.
“Do you still want this?”
My gaze snapped from the old cork coasters on the coffee table. Liam had bought those when we’d gone to New York City for a Yankees game four years ago.
“I do, yeah.” I offered him my hand. His abrasive palm slipped over my damp one. I led him upstairs to one of two bedrooms—mine, the largest. A soft summer breeze wafted in when I threw the window open. The sounds of the neighborhood drifted in. Kids playing, the steady drone of traffic, someone shouting, the wail of a far-off siren. City noises. Max pulled his shirt over his head. I reached behind me to place my wedding picture face down.
God, but he was a lot of man. Wide where he should be, lean where it counted. I stood riveted to the carpet, my ass resting on the dresser, as he nonchalantly peeled off all his clothes while his gaze and mine remained tangled.
“Looking a little rough in the daylight, huh?”
I shook my head. “Not at all.” Yeah, he had some scars. Didn’t we all? Nothing that turned me off. Far from it. All those nicks and dents from life added to his appeal, just like the small wrinkles by his amazing eyes.
He made his way across to me, long-legged masculinity and cocky walk, my cock plumping up more with each step closer.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, his hands sliding up under my shirt, pushing the collar to my chin and then tugging my shirt over and off my head. I reached for his cock, slid my fingers around it, down to the base and then back up, palming the smooth head.
Time slowed, or it seemed to. His mouth slanted over mine, his fingers plucking at my nipples as I stroked him. Then time sped up, tossing me into the bed with Max under me, my pants lying over the dresser, his cock weeping, streaking my cheek with salty precum as I rubbed my face against his prick.
We rolled and grappled, teasing with touch and tongue, laughing lightly at his knee popping or his shoulder creaking when I raised his arms over his head and nibbled my way over his biceps to the thick mat of underarm hair and then down his ribs.
“I want to fuck you,” I panted against his navel. He arched up. I speared the small indent, and he groaned. It was a thrilling sound, at least to me. Rasping and breathy, it went right to my balls, making them feel heavier.
“Yeah, fuck me, Ben.”
I slithered up over him, sweaty chest gliding over sweaty chest, and fumbled around in the drawer of the nightstand. There were no condoms, only lube.
“You got any protection?” I asked. He nodded.
“Wallet.”
A moment later I was back in bed, easing his knees up to his chest and then booting up, his tight hole on display for me. My hands were shaking so badly that rolling the condom on was tricky. I got a bit too much lube on my fingers, but he didn’t seem to care when it trickled down the crack of his ass. I guess my fingers slipping in and out of him kind of made a damp spot on my covers inconsequential.
“Get in me, Ben. And do not play around with being gentle. I can take what you got and then some.”
I threw him a defiant look. He gave me a quirky smirk. “Okay, so this is a dare is it? Like my dick can’t fuck you hard enough to make you speak in tongues?”
I took my cock in hand and patted his slick opening.
“Take it as you want, gorgeous.”
So I did. I took it just as I wanted. Thrusting into him, going as deeply as I could. Max growled in pleasure, his fingers tightening on his knees. I pushed in deeper yet, grinding my pelvis in small circles, eager to hear him make that snarling, passionate sound again. I got it. And that made me feel like a king. Pulling out, I went deep once more, and was rewarded with another guttural groan.
“Do that until I come all over myself. No going slower. Fuck me, Ben. Make me know I’m alive.”
I lifted my gaze from where we were joined. His amber eyes were ripe with emotions I couldn’t place. Lust for sure, but something else. Sadness? Fear?
He clamped down on me, squeezing my cock with his inner muscles, and I stopped worrying about much of anything. My focus fell to the rhythm, the speed, the pull of his body on mine as I pumped in and out of all that tight, hot man.
“Shit. Ah shit, shit, shit,” I huffed when I felt the surge of an impending orgasm sparking to life. Max lay under me, slick with sweat, pumping his fat cock in perfect time with my thrusts. And just like that I blew apart. Using my knees for purchase, I wiggled up even further, mad to bury myself in him far and hard. He grunted long and low and came on his chest and stomach. A few pearly drops landed on his chin. Even gripped in the madness of a world-class release, I dropped over him, losing some depth but gaining the rich, heady taste of his cum on my tongue. I lapped at the hair on his chin, then dove into his mouth, tongue slipping over his.
“Oh shit,” I said yet again when the kiss broke.
Max slung a big arm over my lower back, then stretched his legs out, grimacing slightly. He rolled us over, tacky cum sealing our chests, and plundered my mouth as if he’d never kiss a man again. I clung to him like a climbing rose, wanting nothing more than to keep this fiery intimacy going. But it couldn’t linger forever. Life had to ease back into our little afternoon delight. I snorted at myself for even thinking of that song at this moment. I touched his face with my fingertips, smoothing out the lines on his forehead as I began humming that silly song.
“Oh Christ,” Max chortled, falling to lie beside me as a warm summer wind worked on drying our skin. “You’re an idiot.”
That made me laugh out loud. “This is the kind of lunch break I need every day.”
“Tell me about it.” He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. “Morning skate, food, sex with a hot man, and a nap. Perfection.”
I snorted, then had to leave the bed, and the sexy man, to take care of the condom. I pattered out to the hall, then ducked into the lone bathroom. When I came back, Max was pulling his jeans up over his ass. Seeing that made me a little sad. I’d
been hoping to steal a little more time with him.
His sexy gaze touched mine. “You think you might want to come to the next game?” That made me feel a little better. “I mean, I know we’re not freaking Washington or anything.”
He couldn’t hide his smile. Neither could I.
Which was how I found myself wedged between a glittery figure skater in makeup wearing a funky green hat with feathers, and a round little Asian woman in an orange Flyers sweatshirt at the next game.
“Ah! You see that?! That dirty pool! What you look at?”
I quickly averted my gaze from the irate woman shaking a fist at Max for leveling one of the Flyers.
“Lola, stop pestering Benton.”
I tried to look back at the other women around us—who I assumed were wives and girlfriends—but the long pheasant feather on Trent’s hat poked me in the eye.
“Oops! Sorry. Damn my feathers.” Trent handed me a lime green handkerchief to dab at my watering eye. “So, dish. Tell me how you and Max became an item.”
“Oh, well, uh…we’re not really an item. Just friends.” As if I was going to discuss Max and me with a man I’d just met thirty minutes ago.
“Mmm-hmm. Friends with benefits. Lola, what did I tell you about making that gesture at the Railers?”
“I flip off Rowe. He make bad move on my man!” The tiny woman held both middle fingers way over her head.
Trent sighed. “She never listens.” I’d never seen a more flamboyantly out man in my life, and I was thirty. “Right, so back to you and Max.”
“There is no me and Max,” I said once again, nearly missing an amazing shot on goal the Flyers goalie barely managed to block. Man, Tennant Rowe was fast. If this team faced Washington in the next round, it was going to be bedlam around the goal of my beloved team.
“Oh yes, right. There is no you and Max. I wonder why he forked up the cash for these special seats if he’s not diddling you—or you’re not diddling him—in the derrière. Lola! I mean it, you stop doing that with your mouth right now! There are children nearby!”
The pudgy woman in bright orange sat down, muttering in her native tongue. I didn’t want to know what she’d been doing with her mouth.
“Listen, Trent, I know this is going to sound rude, but can we not talk about what Max and I are doing in bed and just watch hockey?” I waved my tissue at the men on the ice.
“Ah! So you and Max are diddling each other in the derrière! I knew it! I have a sixth sense for gay naughtiness. I want details. He’s a big, bad boy in bed, I bet.”
I gaped at the man in green and yellow. “No. I’m not sharing details.”
“Spoilsport,” Trent said, then laughed lightly. I suspected the man would have all the dirt on Max and me before the night was over.
Midway through the game, my phone vibrated. I pulled it out of the pocket inside my sweater and saw it was Diana calling. Which was odd. She rarely called unless it was an emergency.
“Give me a few,” I yelled into my phone. Diana might have said “okay” but it was hard to say as the crowd was booing a bad call against the Railers.
“Let me know what happens,” I shouted near Trent’s ear. “I have to take this call.”
He nodded. I stepped around feet and cups of beer until I was out of our aisle, then I jogged up the stairs and ducked into the nearest men’s room.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” We’d dealt with increasing vandalism the past few weeks. Busted glass in the front door, people trying to jimmy the locks on the windows, and a rather nasty racial slur painted on the side of the building a few days ago.
“I just got a call from the manager of SecureGuard Security to confirm we’d be at the shelter tomorrow at eight to allow his technicians in. Did you order this and forget to tell me?”
I slipped around two men washing their hands and stepped into a stall. “No, no way. There’s not enough petty cash in the till to cover new chew toys, let alone installation of a security system. Did you tell them it was a mistake?”
“I did, but they stated the work order had been verified and the total had been paid for. In cash.”
“In cash?” I shifted my foot a bit to avoid a small puddle on the floor. “Who the hell has money like that lying around? And who would spend it on us?”
“I have no idea. I told him I’d call him back. What should I say?”
Someone flushed a urinal. “Did they say who paid for it?”
“An anonymous dog lover.”
“What the shit?”
“Right?! Do you really think we have some rich, secret benefactor now? It would be incredible if we did.”
“I honestly don’t know what to think.” Male conversation floated into the stall. I pondered for a long moment. “Okay, well, let’s call them back and tell them to go ahead, then. Looks like God has decided to smile on us for a change.”
I exited the stall and walked out into the arena while Diana yelped in glee. The crowd was clapping. I checked out the replay on the Jumbotron and was treated to the sight of Max knocking a Flyers defenseman over the boards into the Railers bench. A totally clean hit, but brutal and clearly delivered to send a message. I smiled at the replay and the gleam clear in Max’s eyes. Yep, God sure was smiling on us of late.
Chapter Six
Max
Winning the next three games meant the Flyers were out of the race and we advanced to the next round. I patted Lola’s shoulder when I saw her after the game. She looked devastated, and not even Ten reassuring her that the Flyers were a “really good team” seemed to help. I remembered what it was like to be a fan who loved a team as passionately as she did and had to watch their team lose.
We weren’t sure who we’d be facing at this point—the two other teams in our bracket still had a game to go—but in a way, I hoped it was Washington. Mostly so I could get tickets for a game where Ben could see the team he loved. Of course, I didn’t really want us to end up playing the team from a hockey point of view; they were a hard team to beat. I didn’t have to read pundit summaries to know that even though we’d finished ahead of them in the points, that they’d been strong recently, and the Railers would be the underdog in that match.
But there was also a small part of me that wanted to show Ben what I was made of; that I was good enough to play on a team that could beat the one he loved.
And how ridiculous was that? Masculine posturing at its worst.
Why did I feel I had to impress Ben? We’d only managed one more get-together but it had started well enough. The sex had been explosive, amazing. When we’d laid back on the bed, we’d so nearly cuddled, I swear it. But his phone had rung. Someone had thrown a brick through a window at the shelter, and he’d had to leave because Diana was on a training course and there was no one else who could deal with it all.
Fuck.
That cuddle had been so close.
I loved cuddles. Not the hugs you got when your team scored, those quick bro-hugs that gave you a face of sweat and ice, but real hugs. Not a lot of people held me, but then I was edging on the wrong side of scary.
I even scared my mom. Or at least I think I did.
My PTA-mom. Loved ballet recitals with my two little sisters, threw girlie parties, had a lot of pink in her house. She just never quite knew what to do with her big, tough son. Maybe if Dad had been around it would have been different, but he’d moved on when I was little and died three years ago in a work-related accident.
She supported my hockey but didn’t quite understand it. She loved that I earned big money, that I had a name, but she hated I beat on other teams for a living. I was, to her, a mass of contradictions.
Mom and my sisters had been in the stands for our last game and she’d been so pleased when we’d met up afterward, but she hadn’t hugged me.
Nor had she hugged Ben, whom I’d introduced as a friend, with a lot of emphasis on the word friend.
That was another thing that didn’t sit quite right with my mom. She’d n
ever caused a scene when I’d chosen to bring a guy home, but I could see the confusion in her eyes every time I did. She’d loved my junior high school girlfriend, Jenna. And Abby, whom I’d been dating when I was drafted. However, she hadn’t gelled with Dan, or Eric. There was no way in hell she’d gel with Ben.
Not only that, but they knew nothing about my brain thing. What was the point? They’d start telling me it was all hockey’s fault even if wasn’t. I’d been born with it, so even though it wasn’t a hereditary thing, I could still point at my mom and tell her it was her or Dad’s fault.
Even if it wasn’t, and even if I would never say something like that.
I might not get on with my mom, but she was still my family. Right?
So yeah, I was one big bundle of mess where my family was concerned, and the night before I’d wanted a damn hug.
I sent a quick text to Ben asking him if he was okay, and about the shelter, then a separate text to the salesman at SecureGuard who’d assured me his damn system would stop all this petty shit.
He called me back immediately, all contrite and explaining they would be out as soon as they could to expand the something of the whatever. To be honest, I wasn’t really listening much past the part where they promised to up their game and protect the shelter. I ended the conversation with a gentle reminder I was an anonymous donor and waited for the assurance that it would stay that way.
Then I focused back on today, on packing my stuff for a two-game road trip in Washington. I ended up on the plane next to Adler, who had his cap pulled down over his face and looked to be asleep. Seemed like maybe our marketing guy had been keeping him up in more ways than one.
“It’s not good for you,” I pointed out helpfully when I saw him peeking at me as I belted in.
“What?” he yawned widely.
“Sexual relations the night before a big game.”
“Actually, I couldn’t sleep—had a whole head of nightmares about bright orange penguins pecking out my eye.” He shuddered. "And hell, did you just use the term ‘sexual relations’?” He smirked, and I flicked at his cap.
