And then he tugs the chain connecting the nipple clamps, sharp and deliberate. White-hot sensation sears through me and I keen, my back bowing. He does it again, timing it with a particularly brutal thrust, and I nearly fly apart.
“Wrap your hand around that pretty dick of yours and show me how well you can fuck your fist.”
My hand leaves his shoulder, wrapping around my aching length. I fuck into the tight circle of my fingers urgently. It's graceless and sloppy and fucking perfect. “Fuck, gonna come. Fuck, fuck Becks. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.”
“Come for me, Chaos. Come on my cock.”
And I do. I fucking detonate, thighs shaking as my orgasm crashes through me. Cum splatters over Beckett’s chest and abs, coating my hand as I shake apart, spasming and clenching around him.
Distantly, I hear him curse, his fingers digging into my hips. He thrusts twice more and then he's coming too.
I collapse against his chest, boneless and spent. Beckett presses soft kisses to my hair, his hands stroking soothingly up and down my back.
Sweat is cooling on my skin and my ass aches, the nipple clamps a sweet, throbbing hurt. And I've never felt so utterly, completely content.
Beckett eases me off his softening cock and lays me out on the bed, removing the nipple clamps before disappearing into the bathroom. He returns with a damp cloth and cleans me up.
When he's done, he stretches out beside me, gathering me into his arms. I tangle our legs together, burrowing into his warmth. His fingers comb through my hair and I nuzzle into his chest.
“Love you,” I mumble into his skin.
“Love you too, Chaos. Always.”
I'm nearly asleep when something occurs to me. I crack an eye open, smirking up at his peaceful face. “We were pretty loud. Bet we sounded like a couple of pornstars going at it.”
He snorts, not bothering to open his eyes. “What, you want a medal?”
I nip at his chest, grinning when he yelps. “Actually, I was thinking we should fuck in the president’s office. Christen the desk for the next person.”
The thing about my mom, she doesn’t threaten, doesn’t give second chances. You fuck up, you’re done. Which is why she sent the video right as we walked out of the office.
Beckett groans, swatting me lightly on the ass. “You're a fucking menace, you know that?”
“But I'm your menace. No take-backs.”
He huffs a laugh, arms tightening around me. “Wouldn't dream of it.”
Chapter 24
Viktor
I settle into the crease, the familiar crinkle of my lucky Ace of Spades card tucked into my helmet. Cornell's offense is a well-oiled machine, cycling the puck with surgical precision. But I'm turning away shot after shot with acrobatic saves that leave the crowd gasping. Eat your heart out, Hašek.
Jackson wins the defensive zone face-off, sending it back to Henneman, who passes it right back and Jackson takes off. He streaks down the ice on a breakaway. It's a thing of fucking beauty, the way he undresses Cornell's defensemen with a filthy deke.
But when he shoots, Cornell's goalie snatches the puck out of the air like it's nothing.
“Fuck.”
As the teams reset, I glance at the bench. Becks is watching, his jaw tight and his arms crossed. When our eyes meet, his expression softens. He shoots me a small nod and mouths,Keep going. You’ve got this.
And I do.
Cornell keeps crashing the net, but I'm a fucking fortress. Glove saves, pad saves, a sick fucking two-pad stack that leaves their forward looking like he's about to cry.
“Scoreboard, bitch!” I crow as he skates away, tapping my helmet mockingly.
But hockey's a fickle mistress, and she's not content to let me stay on my high horse for long. Early in the second, a seeing-eye shot from point finds its way through traffic and over my blocker.
