I picked up the pace, harder, watching his face for any sign I needed to stop. There wasn’t any—not even close. He took everything and begged for more, gasping outpleaseandfuckand my name, over and over.
“God, look atyou,” I growled. “You’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”
His eyes finally fluttered shut and I let myself go, thrusting in hard enough that the headboard knocked the wall. He didn’t care. He was gone, lost in it. His body tightened up around me, and I lost the last scrap of control; I grabbed his cock and stroked him roughly, matching my rhythm, and he came so hard it splattered his stomach and my hand. He shook and sobbed and never once tried to close off or hide. Not from me.
I kept going, just a little longer, desperate for all of him. I wanted to fill him up, wanted to watch him come undone, to see the look in his eyes when he broke apart under me, knowing I was the only one who’d ever given him that.
I stroked him through it, slow, careful not to overwhelm even when the urge was there to just take, because every muscle in his body had gone soft and loose, no resistance anywhere. He let me push him open, let me fuck him as deep as I wanted, right to the edge of too much, and never once tried to twist away. That trust did something to me. Set a fire under my skin I didn’t want to put out.
When I started coming, I nearly saw stars. The world snapped down to just the heat of his body and the smell of sweat and the tight, shivery way he clung to my arms as if he needed to stay tethered to earth. I braced myself on the sheets, chest heaving, one hand planted by his head so I could watch every second of it. He was trembling, breath coming in little stutters, but his hands never left the pillow even though I’d stopped telling him what to do ages ago.
I pressed my mouth to his cheek, rough and messy, not caring about anything except keeping him right here. He made a sound like a sob, dragged in a shaky breath, and then I felt him coming again, wet and urgent against my stomach. He didn’t even touch himself. It was just the way I moved inside him, the way I held him down and whispered in his ear how beautiful he looked falling apart, how I wanted him, how I would never let anyone else get this close.
I kept fucking him until the aftershocks died out, then let myself collapse on top of him, careful not to crush his ribs. For a minute I just held him, letting the sweat cool on our skin and the shaking settle. I could feel his heartbeat pounding under my palm. I didn’t want to lose that closeness, even though eventually I’d have to move and get us cleaned up.
I forced myselfup on an elbow and checked his face. His eyelashes were wet and his cheeks smudged red, but he smiled at me, soft and wild all at once. “That was…”
Words failed him. For once.
I grinned, too wrung out to fake anything but the truth. “Yeah. Itwas.”
Chapter eleven
Forecheck - Applying offensive pressure in the opponent’s zone.
Phoenix
I felt like I was walking into a trap, honestly, and I had no idea how Cole had persuaded me to attend the game tonight. He’d decided that apparently I was now working for his agent. He'd even tried to give me a fancy iPhone, but I lied and told him Ricky had given me one. He never questioned it, which showed how distracted he was.
I had no idea what working for his agent translated to, but he’d even had a suit delivered that fit me. The promotional event pass hung around my neck like a collar. The further we got through the tunnels under the arena, the more convinced I became that someone was going to spot me and throw me out mid-period. Maybe that was why my palms were sweating so bad, or maybe it was just nerves. I kept wiping them on my pants, but it didn’t help.
Cole walked in front, all confidence and focus, like he owned every inch of the place. I couldn’t tell if that made it better or worse. I followed him up two flights of stairs,then down a hallway that didn’t smell like popcorn or spilled beer, just disinfectant and money.
The VIP suite was nothing like the arena seats I’d seen on TV. It was quiet, carpet soft under my shoes, fancy food set out on white tablecloths, and a wall of glass overlooking the rink. There were only three other people inside: one middle aged man on his phone, two men in suits, one younger and the other older with eyes that seemed to see everything.
Cole introduced me. “This is Phoenix. He works for my agent.” He didn’t say anything else, but the way he said my name made my chest tight. Like I was allowed to be here. Like I mattered. "Ignatius and Doryu."
The man, Ignatius, gave me a polite nod, but his eyes barely lingered. “Pleasure.” He shook my hand briefly. Didn’t offer a drink or a joke. Just that one word, clipped, and then he turned away to watch the ice like nothing I did could possibly matter.
That was fine. I was used to it.
Cole gestured me toward the glass, the best seat in the house, and I went, careful not to look at the food in case I embarrassed him by taking too much. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to eat. The last time I’d been around people like this, I’d been serving them. Not the guest. Definitely not the VIP. Then he left and I had the ridiculous urge to call him back.
The other guy, Doryu, who was around my age, grinned at me as soon as I sat down. “You ever been to a game before?”
I shook my head, keeping my hands in my lap. “Only watched on TV. New job,” I added.
He laughed and popped an entire slider in his mouth, like he didn’t care what anyone thought, then chewed and swallowed. “It’s better live. You can actually feel it when they hit the glass.”
I looked at Ignatius who was talking to two other suits that had just come in. Something about contracts, maybe. The words went over my head. They weren’t for me.
Doryu leaned in, lowering his voice. “The food’s free, you know. They won’t kick you out.” He nudged the plate closer. “Try the smoked wings. They’re insane.”
I hesitated, then picked one up, careful not to drip sauce on my suit. It was good. Like, really good. I’d never tasted anything like it. I tried not to eat too fast, but after nearly a week of soup, my stomach didn’t get the memo. I caught Doryu watching me and felt my ears burn.
“Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “First time I came here, I ate half the buffet before they even dropped the puck.”
“Not sure I could afford to replace the suit if I spilled,” I muttered, which made him laugh harder. I had to be careful, but it was almost like I recognized someone in Doryu that shared my sort of life.
