Breakneck Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #3)

11. Mac ’N’ Cheese Poutine

Chapter 11

Mac ’N’ Cheese Poutine

Sutter

I wanted to kill him on the ice as much as he wanted to kill me. But all that fire and pent-up rage congeals when we’re together, making liquid lava, threatening to burn me alive. My lips touched his and it was over. I plop into the wide sofa chair so I can watch him undress.

“Tell me you’re not gonna sit there and watch like I’m your paid whore.”

“No one’s confusing a lippy shit like you for a whore. A whore would do what they’re told. Get to undressing, Alderchuck.”

He mutters a bunch of curses in my name, but I know he finds a bit of humiliation talk hot. His cock is rock solid, happily bouncing out of his boxers, and I get a nice visual of him in the buck, his curls tumbling over the front of his left shoulder.

“What now?”

“Get your ass over here?” I pat my thigh for good measure.

“You’re really testing my patience, Sutter.”

“As if you have any.”

He smirks. “Nope.” Casey runs and catapults into my lap, straddling my tired thighs, his knees depressing the cushion beneath us.

I take my fill, drinking in the hard lines of his body, ghosting my fingers over his abs, reacquainting myself. I don’t know how he eats as much sugar and Kraft Dinner as he does and keeps a body like this.

“This is gettin’ weird. What’s up with you?”

What’s up with me is Nicci got into my head. I’m actually fucking considering telling Alderchuck something. A small thing. But I’m at war with myself. Now, I’m making it weird. I grab his cock, he gasps.

Fucking Nicci knew exactly how to goad me into this. It’s not like he’ll know I saw Casey, but I’ll know. Nothing’s going to come from me telling Casey anything. Nothing good anyway.

“I’m not supposed to see you. Boston’s team manager was pissed about the fight you started that I had to finish. She thinks you make me crazy.”

“That I started? Nuh-uh. That was your fault. Totally your fault. If you hadn’t shown up in the first place, I wouldn’t have consumed nearly as much alcohol.”

I continue stroking him and use my other hand to squeeze his ass, toying with his hole a bit. His hands grip my neck.

“It’s just like you to shelve all responsibility.”

“Do I, though? Do I make you crazy?” His smugness bleeds through the air, already congratulating himself before I answer his question.

“If you don’t know that by now, you haven’t been paying attention.” I shove my fingers deeper.

“Mhmm, there. Like that. F-Feels good.” His breath hitches. I love reducing him to this, just a live wire of need. “I’m not supposed to be here either. I was threatened life and limb by Daddy Milton.”

I stop and raise a brow. “Daddy Milton?”

“Our nickname for our team manager, but he doesn’t know we call him that. Total strict Daddy vibes from that guy, which is hot, but not so hot is him telling me to stay far away from you.”

I smile and resume my stroking. “I see you’re as obedient as ever.”

“Fuck him. I mean, I’d prefer if we kept to the shadows like this until … well until we get this out of our system, but he can go fuck himself.”

My hand cracks against his ass. “Up.”

“Bossy bastard,” he complains, sliding off my lap.

I stand and shrug my jacket off. “You like me bossy, kitten. Take off my belt.”

He flushes, staring at my face, reaching for the wide buckle. His fingers move deftly, there’s a clang and a jangle before he slides it from the loops.

“You know, I’d uh … I’m okay if you want to use this on me some time,” he says.

Fucking Christ. My dick strains against the zipper. “Noted,” I say, trying to keep my composure after a revelation like that. I knew he was into spanking, but we haven’t talked about more than that.

I need to taste him, though, so I suck down his neck, pushing his hair away so it falls down his back. “You’re a damn watermelon Jolly Rancher, Alderchuck.”

“You tryna say I’m sweet?”

“Mhm.” I continue feasting, sucking purple bruises into the crook of his neck, marking the hell out of him. He knows what I’m up to.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a fucking caveman?”

I grip his thigh, pulling it around me until he clings, and I can spin us. I’ll show him caveman. Once I spin, I lift, using the motion to take all his weight and toss him on the bed. Fuck talking. I need him now.

I multitask, pushing him so he stays put on his back, tearing off my shirt, ripping off my jeans and boxers. I take his heel, cupping it in my hand, and kiss the sole. I lick and suck my way down his thigh, enjoying the ticklish sounds he makes. My tongue shoves its way inside him, and he bites off a moan that would have broken through the walls.

“Fuck. I should probably be quiet, but damn. Mhm. F-Feels so good, Sutter. Please. ”

I suck and tease his hole with my wet tongue, delving into his sensitive pucker, alternating with my fingers. All the while, I keep his right knee pressed into his chest, so he’s nice and open for me.

“Enough. I’m good. Please gimme your dick. It’s been way too fucking long.”

Normally, I’d make him wait longer just for that, but I’m impatient tonight, too.

“Lube. Condom,” I say, out of breath. Shit, since when does doing that make me out of breath? He tosses them without warning and thank fuck for my quick reflexes. Damn brat. He’s testing me tonight. I hear him loud and clear. Brats need tamers for their chaos. I bet he feels pretty damn chaotic with all the changes happening around him. I can be the something solid he needs tonight.

Dousing him in lube is quick, frantic. The need to be inside him has all my nerves on fire and my dick misses on the first try.

“Need some directions there Sut— oooh, fuck.”

I don’t miss on the second stab of my condom-covered dick, and it lands in his hole, stealing his flippancy. “Mouthy fucking brat.” I start with a few slow thrusts, but I’m too damn horny for him, and I’m something else too. Part of me might have believed—for the briefest of seconds—that he meant all that bullshit about us being over. I’m Goddamn relieved I’m here with him. In him.

Fucking him hard, I crack a hand on his ass. “Tell me this ass is mine.”

“It’s yours … for tonight.”

“All the nights, Alderchuck. I own you.”

That drags an almost purr out of him. He liked that.

He arches his back like the irresistible feline he is, moving in time with my thrusts. I contract my large ass muscles, driving harder, opening him wider. Sweat trickles down my abs, dripping between us. Fuck, I just wanna bake him in all my juices. I slow down just a bit so I can lean over and grab his lips with mine. His hair’s a mess, his wild curls splayed on the bed. His bottom lip’s rough against mine, chapped from the game.

“I’m gonna … gonna cum, Sutter.”

I let him, fucking him slowly, pegging his prostate with force. He moans into my mouth, his dick exploding between us. I don’t even care how fucking sticky I get. I yank him down the bed and grip under his knees. I need to be deeper. My cock gets its sweet fucking release. I wish it was him I was filling instead of a condom.

Fighting to catch my breath, I collapse to the side of him, lacing my fingers in his, watching the rise and fall of his chest, instinctively making sure he’s okay. I know he’s fine, but it comes with the paranoia of being me.

And that reminds me, one thing. I have to tell him one thing before we leave this room.

“Oh God, don’t tell me you want to hold hands and shit, Sutter. I thought we didn’t do that?”

He tries to tug his hand away, but I don’t let him.

“Okay, fine. Guess we’re doing that. Wow, that was good. Better than good. We’re doing a round two and three, yeah?”

I close my eyes. “Mm-hmm.” I didn’t know it until now, but I was unsettled. It’s sooooo fucking peaceful beside Mr. Chaos. Who knew?

“C’mon, don’t fall asleep. We really should ice that eye; think I hit you pretty badly. Also, I’m fucking starving. I must be fed, Sutter.”

I groan, refusing to open my eyes. “Why do you have so much energy?”

“Why are you such an old man at twenty-six?”

This time when he tugs his hand away, I let him. “Just gonna order room service. You’re paying.”

My mouth moves to bark curses at him, but they come out as mumbled jargon. Lips press to my sweaty brow.

“Sleep, Sutter. You can tell me off all you want later … after I’ve done some real damage with your credit card.”

M y eyes flutter open. A loud laugh belts through the room in time with a laugh soundtrack behind it, and I catch sight of Alderchuck beside me watching Friends reruns. Is that a whole pie? Yep. He’s cutting slices, eating directly from the pie dish. And what the…?

“What the fuck are you wearing, Alderchuck?”

“Forgot my hat in my bag, needed something to tie up all this sick flow. Don’t wanna get whip cream in my hair.” He shoves an entire slice of pie into his mouth. It puffs up his cheeks.

“That’s disgusting.” But I can’t complain too much about his big mouth; it fits my entire dick. He barely chokes on it. That’s a fucking feat. I sit up and let him keep my bandana—for now— reaching into my bag beside the bed for a sweatshirt. “Did you get anything that doesn’t have half your body weight in sugar?”

He swallows, raising a brow. “No?” But then a smile cracks his face. “I got us some real food too. This was just a snack until you woke up.”

A snack. Right. “We need to get you checked for tapeworms.”

He laughs. “I am the tapeworm, Sutter.”

I tug on some sweats, too, because it’s fucking cold in here. Alderchuck’s only wearing the pair of gray sweats he showed up in. “Aren’t you cold?”

He shrugs. “A little.”

I tug my sweatshirt off and toss it at his head. “Put that on.”

“Aren’t you a fucking gentleman?”

“Just put it on and try not to get whipped cream all over it, eh?”

“I make no promises.”

Why do I want him? Why? All of this should turn me off. But when I see him drowning in my sweatshirt, my dick chubs up. Fucking dammit. I yank him to me, gripping his wrist, and then proceed to suck all the whipped cream and pie crumbs from his fingers.

“Coconut?” I ask.

“Uh-huh. Coconut cream pie. My second favorite pie. Know what my first one is?”

Yeah, because I washed blueberry stains out of everything all damn summer, but I’m not gonna let on that I know. “Mitchell pie.”

He laughs some more. I lace our fingers together again. This time we’re staying this way. He’s warm and I’m cold because I gave him my sweatshirt. It’s his job to heat me up now. His hand’s bruised from hitting my helmet so many times, and he’s got tape around his knuckles.

“How is your name Mitchell? You don’t look like a Mitchell. What’s your middle name? Maybe I’ll call you that instead.”

“Lorenzo.”

“Wow, none of your names suit you. Why those names?”

“Lorenzo for my grandpa on my mom’s side. And …” I take a deep breath. “Mitchell for my dad—it was his middle name.”

“I thought your dad was still … with you?”

“I call Francisco Dad, but he’s technically my stepdad.”

His eyes are on me, processing what I just told him without actually telling him. I don’t know if I can say anymore. Casey’s expression freezes and then his free hand flounders for my left forearm where the tattoo for Dad sits. He squeezes it, putting the two together. Doesn’t say anything. His thumb traces circles where the Roman numerals are inked into my skin as if he’s memorized exactly where they are.

“Losing a parent’s the fucking worst.”

Did he lose a parent too? I don’t even know. I should ask him, but the tone in his voice is telling and I don’t want to bring up a bad memory for him. It might not have been horrific in the way my dad’s death was horrific, but there are varying degrees of horrific. He can tell me when he wants to or not at all. This thing I’m doing is my choice, something I need to do. It might not be the same for him.

I thought I’d get the typical Casey-level of curiosity, but he’s quiet about it, which is the only reason my heart’s able to slow the fuck down.

He releases my wrist, and I let my now free hand crawl up the sweatshirt I made him wear, so I can rest my palm against his warm skin. There’s no lurching nausea, not even buzzing nerves.

My stomach growls.

“Okay, time to feed you, big guy. This is my specialty. I ordered us six different kinds of poutine.”

“What the … Alderchuck. I thought you said you got real food?”

“Compared to pie, it is.”

He drags me from the bed, sits me in a chair at the table, and straddles my lap with a takeout box of poutine in his clutches. “This one is a marriage between the two best food groups on the planet—poutine and mac ‘n’ cheese. Here, you go first.”

“Those are not food groups, Alderchuck.”

He ignores me in favor of attempting to stuff my mouth full of gooey cheese and gravy, but it drops— splat —making a greasy gravy mark on my nice sweatshirt.

“Oops,” he says.

“You’re gonna get your ass beat.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He forks the cheese and stuffs it into his own mouth. “Fuck this is good. Forget it, Sutter. This one’s mine now, and I’m not sharing with the likes of you. You don’t deserve it.”

Remind me why I’m here again? Right, because I’m addicted to his ass. This is so unfair. He laughs at the disgusted look on my face and sets the box of poutine down. I grab napkins off the table and sop up as much of the gravy on my sweatshirt as I can.

“I got you salad and, like, sixteen chicken breasts with some sides of rice to fill in all your beastly muscles. The poutine was just to fuck with you, though, I am eating this. It’s what dreams are made of.”

He climbs off my lap and sits in the chair opposite me, doing a decent impression of a mature adult until he squeezes half a bottle of ketchup onto his poutine-mac ‘n’ cheese nightmare. That should be illegal.

“We gotta get serious here for a second, there’s something I want to say.”

I lean back, sitting up taller, even though Alderchuck saying he wants to be serious is like a squirrel telling you he wants to have a business meeting. But, okay.

“I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum like that. It wasn’t fair. I was losing it because I … well it doesn’t matter. I like this, fighting, fucking, me making you regret your life choices while you watch me eat your weight in food. It’s good. Why ruin a good thing, right?”

“That’s what I said.”

“I know. We agree on something—that’s a miracle in and of itself. I have a but, though.”

My stomach clenches. Buts are never good.

“We’re not exclusive. I’m going to see other people.”

That shatters everything. “The fuck you are, Alderchuck.”

He glares. “You’re not the boss of me, Sutter. You don’t want to commit? Fine, but I’m keeping my options open. We can do this—whatever this is—until we get it out of our system. Bubblegum, remember?”

None of that’s fucking happening. He can think that all he wants. It’ll be tough to keep him away from other men while I’m on the road, but I’m sure I can concoct ways to interfere as often as possible.

“Sure, kitten.”

He forks some more cheesy, ketchup, macaroni-laden poutine into his mouth, and I pray for his disgusting eating habits to finally turn me off. They don’t, I want to lick the gravy off his face. I’ll suck ketchup off his dick if it lands there.

Cursed. I must be cursed. That’s the only explanation for my obsession with him and the food that falls on him.

“Whatever it is you think you’re going to do, you aren’t.”

I shrug. “Guess we’ll see.”

“We’re on the road, anyway. You play for the East, and I play for the West. We’re barely going to see each other. Being exclusive doesn’t even make sense.”

How’s he so damn nonchalant about all this? It’s just like him. Now that I’ve decided I give a fuck, he doesn’t give a fuck.

“My team manager and your team manager are gonna think it’s weird if we don’t have something going on,” he continues. “We’ve got to leave a trail, a breadcrumb trail of one-night conquests.”

I don’t like it, but he has a point. The stipulations to my “relationship suspension” are a bit different than his “don’t fuck with Boston” rule, but I don’t doubt that Gina will keep her ear to the ground for the rumor mill. I’ll need something to feed it. Plus, I’m pretty sure the only relationship she really wants to keep me from is the one with Casey. It’s as if she can tell how stupid it makes me.

“Alright, fine. But the rule is one night. No one gets a repeat, except us.”

Casey chews on his chapped bottom lip. “No repeats, except us,” he echoes.

Still, if I have my way, I’m keeping his one-night conquests to a minimum.