“Jesus Christ, yes.”
“Thank god. I’m dying for it.”
“Fuuuck,” I curse, and I have to reach down to grab my own cock, encircling the base and trying to hold back the orgasm desperately trying to break loose.
I exhale shakily. “I need inside youright fucking now.”
“Mmm, glad we’re in agreement,” he says, moving so his face is directly over mine again. He chuckles and moves in to kiss me, but instead, he shifts quickly, grabbing something from his nightstand. Before I can protest, he tosses two condoms and a bottle of lube onto the bed beside us, smiling triumphantly before settling back atop me, our bodies completely intertwined. I run my hands over his compact but strong shoulders, down his back, over his narrow waist to his perfect, round ass, caressing him gently at first before pulling his cheeks apart roughly, enjoying his gasp of surprise. He scrambles for the lube, quickly slicking up his fingers, and I hold him open while he reaches behind himself to prep. A moment later, he closes his eyes and groans as I feel him slide a finger inside himself. My cock jumps in response. Jesus, he is utterly breathtaking. His face is flushed, the color extending all the way down his neck and over his collarbones. When he lets out another groan, my dick twitches yet again, and I’m afraid I’m going to come before I can get inside him.
“Let me,” I whisper roughly, snagging the lube and dumping a healthy amount into my hand. I reach around and smear it all over his crack, taking care to make sure my fingers are nice and slick before I slowly slide one into his body beside the two of his own already in there. He lets out another groan as we work together to stretch him.
“Fuck yes, oh fuck yes, fuck. One more. Give me one more, then I’ll be ready for your cock,” he pants raggedly.
“Happily,” I murmur, sliding another finger inside him. Before long, he’s actively fucking back against our hands, so I use my other arm around his back, anchoring him close to me, preventing him from moving. He lets out a whine.
“You ready?” I whisper harshly.
Aleks nods sharply before croaking out, “Can I ride you?”
“Fuck! Fuck, yes, please. God, get on me.”
“Condom,” he gasps.
“Shit! Sorry, almost forgot.” I snatch the package off the bed, tearing it open and suiting up as fast as humanly possible, then take another healthy handful of lube and slick myself up. I hold my dick at the base, pointing straight up as Aleks gets back into position, his ass directly above my straining cock.
Time seems to stop as he slowly, slowly, lowers himself onto me. My cock slides past his first tight ring of muscle, and he pauses a moment, adjusting to the stretch. From my position under him, he’s stunning, a rosy flush spreading from his cheeks down his neck and over his chest. His head is thrown back, and a strangled noise escapes him as he slides down another inch or so, and holy hell, I’ve never, ever felt anything this good. I have to bite the inside of my cheek so hard the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, but it works, buying me a little more time so I don’t come like a goddamn rocket before Aleks. Because there’s no way I’m going to let myself come before he does.
ALEKS
Holy mother of fuck.This cock inside me, this man underneath me… This is way more than just a random fuck. As my body slowly opens to let him in, something settles inside me. I can’t describe it, but it just feelsright. I know that sounds like something out of a romance novel, but it’s honestly weird. His dick, his body, even the sound of his voice, it all feels like it was built specifically for me. It’s fucking incredible. I’ve had a fair amount of sex in my life, but this feels like I just leveled up. I need to go slowly, otherwise I’m going to go off like a shot, and this will be over far too soon.
“Fuck, yes. Ride me. Oh god, just like that. Ohhh.” Ben is almost incoherent as I rock back and forth over him until he’s fully seated inside me. I look down and lose my breath at the sight of this stunning, perfectly put-together man coming undone underneath me. I roll my hips against his so he slides over my prostate, and we groan together. A drop of sweat slides down his temple, and I lean down to lick it, gasping as the change in position somehow, impossibly, feels even better. We’re both breathing heavily, and when I move so I can see his face, our eyes lock, something passing between us. I don’t know what it is, but my chest squeezes, and Ben’s eyes widen slightly, like he feels something too. A moment later, he thrusts up into me roughly, and it’s ecstasy. We find our perfect rhythm right away, moving together like we’ve rehearsed this. Our faces are only inches apart, mouths open, breaths mingling, our gazes still locked together. He grabs the back of my head, pulling me down into a blistering kiss, thrusting his tongue into my mouth as he thrusts up into my body, and I collapse against him. And that’s it. Our instincts take over, our bodies writhing together, his cock sliding in and out of my hole. The scent of us, sweat and musk and lust, hangs in the air as we keep moving, not so much kissing as breathing into each other as we lurch forward, chasing our release.
I push on his chest, leaning back so my weight is on my knees, so I can fuck into him as hard as he’s fucking me, our bodies slamming together with delicious, filthy sounds.
“Oh, god, oh yes, oh yes,” I chant as his hard cock slams against my prostate over and over again, causing sparks to burst behind my tightly closed eyelids.
His rhythm stutters, and he grabs my hips so tightly I’m certain I’ll have bruises as our bodies keep slamming together. Then he stills, the corded muscles in his neck pulled tight, the smallest whimper escaping him as his cock pulses and throbs inside me as he comes and comes. That whimper is what pulls me over. I let out a roar as my orgasm rolls through me in powerful waves. I cover his abdomen in my release, shooting almost painfully until I collapse, my body limp against his, my come sticky between our bodies, utterly spent as we lie together, both gasping for air.
Chapter 5
BEN
It’spitch-darkwhenIwake up a few hours later, my mouth as dry as if I’ve been chewing on cotton balls. Aleks’ warm body is curled into mine, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. His bed is soft and cozy, but my head is pounding, and I need to piss like a racehorse, so I slide carefully out from under the sheet and pad quietly into the bathroom. After relieving myself and grabbing a couple of Tylenol from a bottle on the shelf, I realize this hangover is going to require more than just a swallow of water from the bathroom faucet. After snagging my boxers off the floor, I tiptoe quietly down the stairs to the sleek, modern kitchen below. This loft is something else. Whatever his job is, Aleks must be doing pretty damn well to afford a place like this. I’m not even sure my doctor’s salary would be enough to afford this gorgeous loft.
I drink my first glass of ice water down in one long swallow, immediately going back for a second. By the time I get to glass number three, I’m no longer parched, but I know if I can force down a bit more, it will do wonders for what feels like it could turn into a serious hangover.
I sigh. Not exactly a smart move. It’s unlike me to go out and get wasted, especially with an important event the next day, but I can’t find it in myself to regret it because if I hadn’t loosened up enough to come home with Aleks, I would have missed out. And that, whatever that was with him, was unlike any other experience I’ve had. Taking a step back from the fridge, I wander over to the redbrick feature wall. He’s got a few shelves mounted on it featuring framed photos and other mementos. His space is warm and comfortable but masculine. I like it.
I wander slowly around the perimeter of the living room, running my hand along the soft faux-fur throw draped over the back of the couch. As I get to the bookshelves on either side of his modern glass fireplace, I take a closer look at the pictures. Several of them feature Aleks with what must be his siblings, three smiling kids with their arms around each other’s shoulders and one child who looks quite a bit younger. I smile. Aleks is definitely the baby of his family. The photos feature them at various ages over the years, and even once they get to adulthood, his sister and brothers tower over him. The brothers look familiar to me for some reason, but all the recent photos appear to be taken on beach vacations, as they’re always wearing sunglasses. I grin, thinking of my own sister, Lauren, an ER doctor at a hospital on Seattle’s Eastside. I should really take the time to add some family pictures to my own living room; it makes the place feel more like a home. I carefully replace a photo of the siblings on some kind of yacht in beautiful, turquoise water and amble back to the shelves on the feature wall, curious to learn more about the man who literally rocked my world a few hours ago.
I’m almost finished my third glass of water when I notice a photo of what must be his entire family, or at least that’s what I assume. I huff out a laugh, realizing that the family is posing with a life-size replica of the Stanley Cup. My stepdad played professional hockey for years, and obviously, my research into head injuries keeps me close to the hockey community, so I pick it up to take a closer look. I smile since it’s still kind of rare to find American families who are into hockey the way so many Canadians are. They’re goofing around in the photo. The cup is on the floor right in front of the man who must be Aleks’ dad. He’s poised with a big spoon right over it like he’s about to dig into a giant ice-cream sundae. Aleks’ mom sits beside him, squeezing a big bottle of chocolate syrup into the bowl of the iconic trophy. The three older kids are sitting on the couch making faces while a little kid, who I assume is a four- or five-year-old Aleks, is on the floor at his dad’s feet with his little arms wrapped around the base of the big trophy while pressing a kiss to it. I start to chuckle until I take another look at the cup itself, realizing it’s not a replica—the family is posing with the real thing. My heart racing, I step over to the window to get a better look under the light from the streetlight outside. I do a double take, and the bottom drops out of my stomach.
My stepdad, Bob, played in the NHL for a long time, but his career was cut short when he took a vicious hit that knocked him out cold and gave him a concussion so serious that no doctor would sign off on his return to the ice. The league ruled the hit legal, but most people agreed it was right on the line and could have—maybeshouldhave—been a major penalty. And the player who delivered that life-changing hit to Bob? None other than Kent Warren, the man in Aleks’ family photo.
Oh my god, I need to get out of here. Aleks’ father is Kent Warren.
Chapter 6
