I came fast and hard, head thunked back against the wood, vision full of stars, and my hands clutching empty air. He finally stopped, resting his head on my thigh.
I was shaking all over. Hog wiped his mouth and looked up, a little smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "Fuck," I said, not sure if I was laughing or choking. "You trying to kill me?"
Hog stood and leaned over, kissing my knee, hip, and belly slowly and gently. I slid off the workbench, knees rubbery, and caught him by the front of his hoodie.
His cock was hard behind his jeans, but he didn't make a move for it. I did. I pressed my palm against his crotch, feeling how hot and thick he was through the denim. He groaned.
"Your turn," I announced.
He grunted approval and let me push him onto the nearest bench. I knelt—shop floor cold against my bare knees.
His fly took some doing. The zipper was stuck, and he hissed when I finally got it down, his cock springing free, red and leaking. He hadn't worn underwear.
I took him in hand and stroked him once, slowly, then licked the head. He twined his fingers into my hair, rough, but not hurting.
I sucked him slow, teasing with the flat of my tongue, the way he liked, and he swore under his breath, hand at the back of my head. He didn't force me, just held on.
I squeezed his thighs, felt the muscle jump against my fingers with every swirl and spit-slick pull. When I pulled off with a pop, he jerked, and I grinned up at him. His face was flushed, hair stuck to his brow.
He wrestled my hand down, and I stroked him again, wrist aching from the thickness. He moaned, a deep sound, and then he came, hot and thick on my palm and belly, some of it streaking up my chest. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees, breath coming in huge, shuddering gulps.
Hog looked up, and his face was open, unguarded. Not a single wall left between us.
Later, we lay on drop cloths spread across the floor, my jacket serving as a pillow, and his hoodie thrown over us like the world's worst blanket.
Hog's arm was solid around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder.
"You good?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah." I turned enough to see his face. "I'm good."
"Tomorrow, will you call your mom?"
"Tomorrow I'll call my mom." I settled back against him. "Tell her I'm staying. Start figuring out how to help without destroying myself."
Chapter nineteen
Hog
The team was still in celebration mode over not moving, and I'd woken on the floor of Rhett's workshop with aches everywhere. Coach was ready to push us hard with the prospect of a playoff appearance on the horizon.
The music blasting in the locker room was too loud. Coach had the speakers cranked to something with too much bass. It made my skull ache.
I laced up my skates—left, right, pull tight, double knot. Jake appeared at my stall, already in full gear. "You look like shit."
"Thanks, Mom."
"When's the last time you slept?"
"Recently enough." I stood and tested my edges. The left skate was wrong. "I'm fine."
He didn't believe me, but he also didn't push.
After I corrected my skate, we hit the ice for warm-ups. Push, glide, push, glide. My breathing was off. Too quick and shallow.
Every time I blinked, I heard Rhett's voice.I'm staying here.
But for how long?
