Breakneck Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #3)

12. Boat Knots

Chapter 12

Boat Knots

Casey

Top Dog

How the fuck did you spend a thousand dollars on porn in that hotel room, Alderchuck?

Me

A great magician never reveals his secrets.

Top Dog

I’m a magician too. I can turn peachy cream to red with nothing but my hand. Just wait until I get my hands on your ass, kitten.

T ook long enough for him to get that bill.

“Watcha laughing at, Case?” Jack asks.

I’m at a pub in New York with my other brother, Jack Leslie. No, we’re not brothers by blood, but the moment we caught sight of each other on the first day of high school, the pair of us in matching Metallica Ride the Lightning concert t-shirts, we were bonded for life. I followed him home from school, and we ate Jack’s dads out of house and home. Or well, we tried to, but they were prepared for us with a seemingly endless food supply. We started a street hockey league, and if I wasn’t sleeping at his house he was sleeping at mine.

Jack played cards with Mom and I every Sunday right up until the end. We ate cookies, drank tea, and played Gin Rummy. The ritual was soothing, and those days are some of my favorite memories.

For some reason, Jack elected to bring Logan and Rhett to my emergency meetup. I’m in a crisis, and there’s no one better in a crisis than Jack Leslie. Nothing much fazes that guy.

“Sutter and I are forbidden from touching each other,” I announce to the table, answering his question without directly answering his question. Jack and I have that level of non-verbal translation between us.

“So, naturally, you two can’t keep your hands off each other,” Jack surmises.

“Technically, I’m not supposed to fraternize with either of you. New York is in fourth place on the list of teams to stay clear of.” But I think Daddy Milton is less concerned about my friendship with Jack than he is about me shacking up with Sutter. Fucking a team rival is bound to stir up controversy in the land of internet gossip.

“Pretty sure that’s not legal, but whatever. Why the hell are you still fucking with Sutter?” Jack asks. “You said you were swearing off him for the hockey season.”

“You know why. Because I have no self-control and make impulsive decisions. Somebody make me stop.”

Rhett sips his Johnnie Walker. “It won’t be me. I’m enjoying your suffering, Alderchuck.”

“Why is he here, Jack?”

“That’s on me,” Logan says. “I haven’t seen Jack much either, and where I go, Rhett goes.”

He hasn’t seen Jack or his boyfriend much is what he means. Jack and Rhett have been on the road as much as I have. Rhett and Logan are attached at the hip when they’re in close proximity, blending as one human. Does Rhett realize what a simp he’s become for Lo? Since I’m Team Logan, I’m glad for his sake, but I’m definitely gonna needle Rhett with this knowledge.

“Anyway, yeah, yeah, we gotta sneak around, but he was acting kinda weird. Know anything about that, Elkington?”

Rhett looks away briefly.

“You do!”

“I do. It’s his business to share with you or not.”

I huff and down my beer. Sutter’s never telling me. Sutter would rather rip out his own teeth than use his words around me. He fucks me and leaves me, and I take it because his dick’s just that good.

Or something.

“Where’s Stace? He doesn’t want to hang with us anymore?” Jack says.

I shouldn’t say. It’ll start the wrong kind of rumors, or maybe the right ones. I internally sigh. The last time I brought this up, it started trouble in the house.

But that was a fucking long time ago.

“It was the only time Dash and Dirk could video chat,” I say, putting that little morsel of information out there. It’s not exactly an unusual event, but my tone belays the subtext.

Jack leans back in his chair and sips on his beer. Logan looks between us, trying to sort the pieces of an invisible puzzle. They take too long, and I can’t stand it. I want them to get there faster.

“My brother stole Dash’s hat,” I blurt out.

“What does that mean?” Logan demands. “What does it mean, Leslie?”

Jack’s expression softens. “It means two Alderchucks are playing with fire instead of just the one.”

Rhett feigns a yawn. “Doesn’t anyone around here ever get bored of Alderchuck drama?”

“No,” Logan says. “I knew it. I knew they weren’t just friends.” He’s practically crowing.

“Sorry to disappoint, Lo,” I say. “But they are just friends—best friends.”

“There’s a story. I want the story,” he says. “There’s no way there’s not something between them … or maybe there was?”

That’s an understatement on both counts, but the answer isn’t straightforward.

“It’s a long story, but the short version is, Dash’s dad Travis—our boss at the Wicklow—was looking for a place for Dash to stay, we were looking for rent helpers.” Man, haven’t thought about those days in some time.

Logan nods. “I get that. Didn’t feel right starting something with his boss’s son?”

“That was a factor, but Dash had just gone through some bad shit. Stacey is Stacey. He felt responsible for him, and he became something like a caretaker for Dash.” Though sometimes I’d be tempted to use the word champion. Dash idolizes Stacey like he’s his damn hero.

“Stacey thought it would be wrong to pursue anything,” Jack adds.

“And you think something’s changed?” Logan hedges.

“It changed well before now, but Syd wormed his way into the picture.” My hands clench, hating Syd’s existence for no reason. From what I hear, Syd’s a nice guy. “Pretty sure Stacey had plans on starting something last hockey season, but then Syd came along.”

A demure smile creases Jack’s face, remembering things. “Yeah, he was.”

“I’m surprised you noticed with the way you were pursuing the coach of our hockey team.” I waggle my eyebrows.

“Oh, was this at the same time you were trying to shack up with my brother?” Logan says. “I’ve shockingly never heard this story; I just have to witness the disgusting aftermath.”

“Is that your way of asking to hear the story, Lo?” Jack says.

“Please?”

Rhett groans. “I’ll order us more drinks. We’re going to be here awhile.”

“Don’t mind him, he’s just grouchy because he was the villain of that story,” I say.

“That’s perfect, baby,” Logan says, rubbing against his man. “I always fall for the villain.”

Rhett smiles. “In that case, I’ll start us off. Once upon a time, in a hockey universe far, far, away…”

On the Ice

N umber one reason I hate Boston so much? They’re dirty motherfuckers. Especially Sutter. And he’s on my fucking ass more than usual this game. Is this payback for the credit card? Probably. But fuck him. He deserved that. Besides, it’s not like he can’t afford a measly thousand dollars—um, plus all the food I bought—with the Scrooge-sized money bin he has.

My blades carve the ice, quick scraping sounds echo off the boards. I swear to fuck, skating at the Garden is like skating on fucking Velcro. My muscles work overtime, burning with every glide. The puck’s cradled against my stick as I carry it across the ice. I drop it back for Stacey, who I can feel behind me. We operate on a sixth sense, another level. Reading where the other is via our twin version of spidey sense. That’s why Vancouver wanted us—our ability to pass the puck to each other and score as if we operate from the same mind.

Stacey lobs it back to me, but I let it go over the blue line before my skates do so I’m not offside and thuck! Right to my stick like there’s a fucking puck magnet on it.

Hell, yeah.

There’s nobody. Nothing. Just me and the goalie. I find fuel from somewhere to power my legs.

Alderchuck on the breakaway.

I own the puck. This moment. The fucking goalie. This goal is mine. Two points for?—

My face hits the ice-cold deck, and my stick flies toward the goal. The source of my fall? Three guesses. No, all we need is one. Sutter. Fucking asshole Sutter.

“Oops. I fell,” he says, shrugging.

“You dirty piece of shit.”

I’m to my feet so fast. Is the ref calling that? I’m owed a damn penalty shot. But nooooo. Somehow Sutter’s terrible acting convinced them he tripped, and the whistle is for the face off. I didn’t see what he did, but no way it could have been anything other than bullshit.

Yeah, no.

“C’mon ref, give him something. Tripping. Hooking. Being a doucheknuckle.” If they don’t have a penalty for that by now, they should. They can just go right ahead and call it a penalty for Suttering.

The ref ignores me.

Nothing? Fine. I’ll take matters into my own hands.

Sutter and I face off in the Boston zone. I bend, stick rested against my thighs. He makes a kissy face for me just before the puck drops. I ignore the puck, drop my stick, and punch Sutter in his stupid face.

Right hook. Right hook. Right fucking hook. God this feels good. It doesn’t buy my goal back, but it’s a close second.

His fist wraps into my jersey and gets a deadly left hook to my face. Sutter and his damn southpaw. The refs pull us off each other.

“Why don’t you go play soccer, Sutter? With acting like that, you should trade your skates for cleats.” I’m being led backward by refs toward the penalty box, same for Sutter, like we’re damn toddlers.

“Kiss my ass, Alderchuck.”

His foot moves, I lunge. We’re yanked back by refs.

I won’t be kissing anything of his later. He bought himself a one-way ticket to handsville. To make sure of that, I’m letting it leak that he’s contracted a mysterious venereal disease.

After two minutes of four-on-four while Sutter and I serve our time, I’m only out for a quick shift before the change. The guys on the bench are just as pissed as I am. I sit, fuming, and rip the bottle of liquid electrolytes from my brother’s hand.

“You were robbed,” one of our defensemen says.

“It was dirty,” Stacey agrees. “He tripped over air, nothin’ t’do with you.”

“I expect nothing less from Sutter.” I knock back some electrolytes, stewing. Those were my damn points. I want to stay with this team. Stacey and I got a one-year contract, which means they felt they were taking a risk. But Vancouver hasn’t won a cup in years, and they saw us as a chance to pump new life into the team. You’d think that by fucking Sutter it would let me off the hook for his dirtier plays, but no. Not with a slimeball like him.

I don’t know why I expected any different. Because he’s sometimes a decent human being when we knock boots? Ugh. I have got to stop being romanced by his massive hog. Clearly, there’s no romance to be had anyway.

Fine. Two can play.

I proceed to poke-check the fuck out of him. A few of my poke-checks lean into slashing territory, but I make sure the refs aren’t looking. They tend to follow the puck, which means there’s lots to get away with if you’re careful. Annoying the fuck out of Sutter is a great use of my stick when the puck isn’t attached to it.

My goal never comes, not even an assist. Not a single point the entire game, and I have Sutter to thank for that. He managed to slip an assist through, despite my best efforts to stop him. Vancouver loses two-three.

“Face it, I’m better than you, Alderchuck,” he says. His eye’s already sporting a nice fan of purple around his eye thanks to me.

“Go back to your tower, Quasimodo!” I feel bad comparing Sutter to Quasimodo—Quasi doesn’t deserve that. But also, it’s simply not true. The only way to make Sutter look hotter is to give him battle bruises. He’s pure sin in hockey gear right now Goddammit. My dick’s begging me to forget the whole thing for some of his elite manhandling and it pisses me off more.

In the locker room, I toss my gloves at the wall. The whole team’s riled up on my behalf.

“That was bullshit,” Henry—our goaltender—says. “Sutter needs to be put in his place.”

I nod. “Couldn’t agree more.”

And now Sutter has a giant target on his back. I wish I were still speaking to him, so I could tell him how much my whole team wants to beat his ass. But I won’t be speaking to him, so I’ll have to enjoy that knowledge all by myself.

Like clockwork, Sutter’s text appears. He didn’t even wait to shower. He must have just made it back to his phone.

Top Dog:

That was the hottest thing of my life, kitten. My dick’s so hard for you. I’m gonna make you cum all over yourself and then mark you with mine.

The half chub that was forming under my hockey gear hardens to rock solid. Fuck. No. Fuck him. I’ll resist him. I have to resist him.

“Hey, Case! You and Stacey wanna join us for beers?” Henry asks.

I don’t usually when we play Boston because of Sutter. But Sutter needs to learn that I’m not gonna jump at his every beck and call. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Don’t know about Stacey. Apparently, there’s trouble in Dash and Syd paradise. I warned him about being too “there” for Dash. I know they’re best friends, but Dash and Dirk are besties —there’s a difference. He should let Dirk handle most of that or he’s gonna get friendzoned for life.

But, grown-ass man and all that. I can only give my two cents.

Once I’ve done some post-game biking, have showered and set my white ballcap in place, I look around my cubby to see if I’ve forgotten anything.

Oh, yeah. Sutter. My dick’s finally calmed down enough that I can think with the head with the brain in it. Just to be on the safe side, I don’t reread Sutter’s last message.

Me

I’ve got other things to do than you. Have fun with Palmlina tonight.

Top Dog

Not gonna use my hand, Alderchuck. If you’re not game, then I’ll find someone else.

That makes me want to go through with my plan to tell everyone he’s caught something. But y’know? Not worth it. I don’t like what the thought of Sutter fucking someone else does to my insides. It’s not supposed to. We made a deal at the beginning of the season. Hell, it was my idea. It was for good reason, too.

Know what? Fuck him. Maybe I’ll even find a hookup of my own.

Me

Have fun then. I know I’m gonna.

I include the fuck you emoji—the fist flipping the bird. I’m going to get over this addiction. It’s getting worse, it’s reached my mind.

Time to cut it off before it gets to my heart.

M y loose jeans feel tight compared to the sweats I’ve been sporting. Makes me realize how little I’ve been out. I’m turning over a new leaf, starting now. It’s not like I have time for a boyfriend anyway. All my focus needs to be on my hockey career. But I can hook up more, meet some guys. Though with the way Henry Otterhammer’s looking at me, I might not have to hunt too far from home.

Settled, then. I’m gonna piss, and then I’m gonna invite myself to his hotel room so he can rail me. I down the rest of my beer and head to the restroom.

I wade through the crowded nightclub. The music’s loud and it’s dimly lit, the muted colored lights flashing. I take a piss in the urinal, wash my hands, ready to return to my conquest for the night.

Bear paws grab me three steps out of the restroom, one around my mouth so I can’t scream and the other around my waist. His familiar aftershave hits my nostrils. I can’t believe I know Sutter’s damn aftershave with this level of acuity. I should punch myself in the face for that.

He drags me through the bar, to the back, and into the alley. I let him because, fuck, it’s hot. This is the kind of manhandling I’m a huge fan of. Fuck, it is Sutter, though, right?

Crack! His hand collides with my ass. “What’s wrong with you? You didn’t even fight me.”

“ Ow! I knew it was you, asshole.” I rub my ass over my jeans and flip around to face off with him.

The right side of his face is inflated like the Michelin man. Maaaaaybe I shouldn’t have hit him quite so hard, but he was being a dirty asshole. He’s taped his nose and wrapped a snake-skin patterned bandana around his dark hair. He’s switched out his leather jacket for a dark gray hoodie and his jeans for sweats. He can’t even pretend like he came here in search of new game—unless he’s that cocky.

“You need to be more careful. You don’t bother analyzing your surroundings. It’s fucking annoying.”

His hands have moved to my waist. I plant both my palms on his chest, giving a mighty shove. His feet stumble backward. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Maybe you stalking me is annoying.”

He steps into my space again. Letting him drag me out here was a mistake I can thank my dick for. I’ll find a way to resist him.

“Wasn’t stalking you. My team’s here too. This is Boston’s version of The Foxy—the Copperheads always come here post game.”

I look him up and down. “You were gonna pick someone up lookin’ like that?”

He smirks. “Oh, Alderchuck. It doesn’t matter what I wear. I can have anyone I want, and I’m happy to prove it.”

“Except me. I’m sticking to my ‘Henry Otterhammer railing me’ plan.” Trying to make my exit proves difficult with Sutter acting like a stone wall.

“The fuck you are. Why you bein’ difficult?”

Why am I being difficult? To prove a point to myself? Yeah, I think that’s it. I want to know that I can resist him, but it’s hard with his scent surrounding me and his big Sutter energy.

He noses along the curve of my neck, sending shivers up my nape and into my chest.

“Let me fuck your mouth, Alderchuck.”

This is the moment the angel and devil show up in cartoons. I only have two devils. One telling me to give in to Sutter, and the other telling me to make Sutter grovel before I give in. The latter might seem the obvious choice, but Sutter’s lips, fuck. They’re pressing their way into the crook of my collarbone and my dick’s straining against my zipper. Never should have worn these jeans.

“Tell me you’re sorry.”

“For what?” he murmurs. “Are you bein’ a little bitch about the game?”

“Not at all. You were being dirty, Sutter.”

“I always am. It’s never bothered you before. You’re usually just as dirty. I thought it was our form of foreplay.”

Tingles break out all over my body. Good or bad ones? I’m not sure. He’s right. I am just as dirty, but I haven’t been. Why? That’s a little journey for me to go on later. For now, I’ve got two hundred and thirty pounds of Sutter, smelling like sex and sin around me. I’m only a man. I’m not sure I can resist him, but I’m still trying. I want to inhale his scent, but I won’t. Want to lick his skin. Not gonna do that either.

I think he’s right about the foreplay thing, too, ‘cause I’m pretty into this after being so aroused on the ice. Can’t give in too quickly, though, or he’ll think I’m easy prey.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s never bothered me? It’s the whole reason I beat your ass so hard on the ice.” Even if I do it too, he starts it.

His laugh begins as a slow chuckle till it builds so loud it echoes through the alleyway.

“Not funny, and if I don’t hear groveling soon, I’m heading inside.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, kitten. Alright, what do I have to say so you’ll let me stick my cock in you?”

Do I have Sutter in the palm of my hand? “Tell me I’m better than you at hockey.”

“I can, but why would you want me to lie like that?”

“Sutter. Fuck, you’re so bad at this.” But I finally give in and let my head fall right where I like it on his shoulder. My body breathes relief.

His fingers comb through my hair, curling and toying with it. My heart rate slows, and my anger dissipates into the chill air. He uses a knuckle to nudge my face up.

“I one hundred percent came here to abduct your ass.” Jangling sounds break the crisp night. He waves a set of handcuffs in my face. “If you weren’t going to come willingly, I had these.”

Well, damn. That would have been fun. Jack and I have a top ten list of ways we want to be fucked. Abduction, anything to do with it—by our partner—is in our top three. Not that Sutter’s my partner, but he’s a regular fuck buddy, so he counts.

Hell, I’d go as far as to say that it’s romantic in a Sutter-ish kind of way. Fuck it. I need a taste, just a taste of him. My lips find his and he must have pocketed his handcuffs because his large hands grip my face, setting my body afire. He takes over, kissing me slowly and then inhaling me.

“You were sucking on watermelon Jolly Ranchers again,” he says, licking my lips, and resting his forehead against mine. “Do you have to tell anyone you’re leaving?”

What a dick. I didn’t say that I was leaving with him, even if my kiss implied it. “I’ll text them when I get to the car—you did bring your car, yeah?”

“Can’t have a proper abduction without a car, Alderchuck. C’mon.” He slaps my ass like he owns it—because he thinks he does—and walks ahead, expecting me to follow.

“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole.” Which makes me just as … I don’t know because I’m following him like a damn puppy with the hope of getting to suck the asshole’s dick.

S utter’s abduction package includes the “mysterious location” option. It’s a fancy hotel and all, but I’ve never been here before.

“Why not your condo, Sutter?”

“I thought it would be more inconspicuous if we kept doing the hotel thing.”

“What makes you think there’s anything inconspicuous about us?” It’s true that people don’t always recognize us out of our hockey gear, but we’re big and we stand out. Neither of us looks like we belong or can afford to rent a room in this place. We look like a couple of thugs. Joke’s on them, we could probably rent the whole hotel between the two of us.

“From the sounds of things, Milton had spies in places we frequented. I thought if we kept switching up hotels, we’d reduce the likelihood of that.”

“Meh. Worth a shot, I guess.”

Clearly, Sutter was here earlier. His overnight bag’s already in the room when we arrive. He came prepared just like the boy scout he is. “Rope?” I ask, digging through the duffel.

“You seemed to like it before,” he says, swiping it out of my hands. “Stop snooping.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I’m fucking into that shit. Tie me up, spank me, use me.”

He sheds his jacket and shirt so he’s half naked, and then kicks off his boots, stepping closer, his socked feet digging into the carpet. “That reminds me. Your ass has it coming for my credit card, Alderchuck.” His voice just lowered to octave, I’m gonna fucking ruin you and you’re gonna love it and my insides melt.

He smacks my ass. “Wait here.”

Predictably, Sutter locks the chain lock on the hotel door. He then proceeds to jam a butter knife horizontally into the doorframe.

“Is that really necessary?” I ask.

He doesn’t feel he has to dignify that with a response. Clearly—to him—it’s necessary. Once that little ritual is over, he’s back, his beautiful angular face taking me in, deciding what he wants to feast on first. Don’t know what it is about Sutter. On the ice, I’m set to kill him. Off the ice, I roll over and submit.

What I should do is deck him for being an assuming asshole, but my heart might pound its way outta my chest instead, alive with anticipation. I can’t move. All I can do is wait, transfixed by the warring energy surrounding us.

“You’re a fucking brat, Alderchuck,” he says, a powerful hand gripping under my jaw, the fingers curling over the bone, digging in enough to leave bruises to add to the ones I got from the game. I watch the snake on his shoulder, the one that bleeds onto his right pec muscle. The head rises and falls with the rhythm of his diaphragm. His unhinged eyes lock on me like an eagle spotting its prey from a distance.

I’m not going anywhere. Even if I tried, he’d find me.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“Oh, kitten. Never challenge me like that unless you’re ready to pay the consequences.”

I am, though. I so, so, so am. I lick my lips and imagine myself cracking my knuckles. My name isn’t Brat Cat on Benduovr for nothing. “You’re a lotta talk, Sutter. I shoulda gone back to the team’s hotel with Otterhamm?—”

I don’t get to finish that sentence. I’m pinned on my front on the bed. A hand reaches around my front while I buck and writhe. It’s not the most strategic fight I could put up. Deft fingers pop the button of my jeans, and a sharp tug yanks them down along with my boxers, exposing my bare ass. Chilled air lights up a wave of gooseflesh.

And look, I have one hell of an ass, and I know it. It’s from all the hockey playing. Skate drills are no joke. It’s round as a plump peach, barely fits into jeans, spankable as fuck. The kind that’s begging to be shown a lesson, or so I’ve been told by a few people. Apparently, Sutter agrees.

Crack!

His meaty palm connects to my bare ass. Sharp pain blooms across my left ass cheek. Sutter’s a fucking southpaw, I’m over his lap so that it’s easier for him to spank with that hand.

“Ow, fuck. Sutter!”

“Stop squirming.” Using his leg over my animated ones, he traps me in place, laying it on thick with alternating smacks to each cheek. Oh my fucking God it hurts . I mean, it’s still nothing I can’t handle. Any spanking he could give me won’t hold a candle to the beatings I take during a game, endlessly smashed by boulders on hockey skates. A spanking is just a spanking, but it’s the principle. Brats live and die by that principle.

“When I get up, I’m so gonna kick your—ow! C’mon, Sutter.”

He spanks me till I’m bucking and then he gives it a rest, rubbing the heat building over my increasingly tender cheeks. Tingles shoot straight to my groin. It’s not the pain per se, but the act, the being spontaneously tossed over his lap and spanked like there’s no tomorrow. That gets my dick going. As if I wasn’t already desperate enough for him.

“You’d think this would curb that mouth of yours.” Sutter doesn’t hold back on the second round. He gives it to me, handing me my ass, which is, no doubt, coloring a nice shade of pink.

A hiss exhales from my lungs. Fucking Christ. “Okay, Sutter. I’m sorry I spent a bunch of your money without asking you.” Not sorry enough not to do it again, but we don’t need to acknowledge that right now.

“Good.”

“Hey!”

Smack! Smack! Smack! He carries on at the same rapid pace. I do my best to pry myself from his vice grip, but it’s not happening. My only out is his mercy. Not sure he has any just now. The good news is, I’m so fucking turned on and the burn across my cheeks is the right amount of agonizing and delicious.

So why am I trying to escape? See the part about the principle of it all.

“I said sorry. Why am I still getting it?”

“Otterhammer.”

Oh, yeah. Him. Truth be told, already forgot about him, but Sutter doesn’t need to know that.

“It would have been so hot if he were—ow, ow, ow , dude!”

He stops, but he lords over my ass like he’s the king of it, ghosting his hand over the areas he’s laid down handprints that might as well be branding marks.

“This is my ass, Alderchuck. Henry Otterhammer’s a dead man if he touches it.” He continues spanking me, but slower this time. The bastard’s enjoying himself, isn’t he? At least it doesn’t hurt so much when he spanks slower. I mean, yeah, it stings, but it kinda feels good, too.

“We had a deal, Sutter.”

“I told you that deal was bullshit.”

“And I told you that I do what I fucking want.”

His hand pauses on my ass and never has anything been so threatening. Oh shit. I’ve really got to learn to watch my damn mouth.

Sutter spanks my ass until I can’t breathe. Until I’m begging for mercy. Until I’ll tell him whatever he wants to hear so that he’ll fuck my ass instead of spank it.

“Okay. O-Okay, S-Sutter. Fuck. You fucking psycho.”

“Hate me all you want, kitten. I consider this ass mine. You want to fuck around, thinking your bullshit deal protects you? Fine, but this is the consequence.”

Oh God, oh fuck. His voice, the way his thick thigh squeezes my trapped legs. I’m squirming for another reason.

I get spanked until I collapse over his thighs, totally wrung out. The fight’s left me. My skin back there’s so heated, I could cook eggs on it. Alright. I’m ready to behave myself.

For a little while.

His hand stops its heyday, smoothing over the top of his latest handprint masterpiece.

“There we go. That’s a good little Alderchuck. Not so mouthy now, are we? Up.”

I must have lost my pants and boxers some time ago. Soon as he frees my legs, I’m able to spread them, straddle him, and whimper into his mouth. ‘Cause, yeah, the first thing I do is latch my—reformed for the time being—lips to his plump ones. My dick’s hard, all ready to go, humping against his bare torso.

“You enjoyed that too much,” he says.

“Wrong. Okay, maybe.” I maul his mouth some more as he toys with the crack of my ass, grazing over the highly sensitized skin. It sends a sinful jolt of arousal to my cock. “I love how riled up you got.”

“You really pissed me off, Alderchuck.”

“What do you think you do to me, you fucking cheap-shot asshole.”

He attacks my mouth with a vengeance, his tongue plunging inside as he flips us, pinning me on my back at the same time. “The spanking wasn’t enough, eh? You need to be fucked into submission, don’t you?”

Hell, yeah, I do. “ Please. ”

“New rule,” he says, panting, wet tongue clashing with mine between words. “When we’re in the same city, you’re mine.”

I smile against his lips. “Why would I agree to that when it’s so much more fun to have you abduct my ass?”

“Okay, that’s it.” Sutter’s gone. He’s off the bed, rifling through his bag of wonders. He holds up the fancy white rope. “Remember what kind of rope this is?”

“Yuh-huh. Marine rope.”

“Good boy, Alderchuck.” My face heats. “Take the rest of your clothes off.”

That leaves me in the nude, but at least I get to enjoy the show of Sutter taking the rest of his clothes off, too. I can’t deny it, he’s something otherworldly. Two massive hockey thighs attached to a round hockey ass. His heavy dick bobs, already leaking, hungry for me. Knew he enjoyed spanking my ass. He runs a hand through his messy hair, freeing the dark hockey flow from the bandana he was wearing, letting it fall to the floor.

Such an imposing motherfucker, his darkening eyes locked on me. Sutter’s a beast on a mission. “I’m gonna show you, Alderchuck.”

Show me what?

“Wrists,” he says. Sutter uses his outdoorsman rope-tying skills to bind my arms together with my palms pressed into a prayer. “Remember, quick release. All I have to do is pull here.”

I nod. Safety first.

“Get to the middle of the bed on your forearms and knees, kitten.”

Once I’m in position, his hand grips my dick and balls, pulling them backward between my legs. Anticipatory butterflies swarm, filling the air with sex-heavy excitement.

“That looks hot, Alderchuck. Squeeze your thighs and the sides of your calves together.”

He proceeds to tie my thighs and ankles with more of his quick-release knots. With everything tied like this, my dick, balls, and hole are exposed. My red ass is on display for him.

“How does that feel? Anything too tight?”

I try prying my legs apart. They don’t move. I’m vulnerable for him, totally at his mercy, but I must admit I’ve been expertly tied. “Feels good, Sutter.”

“Let me know if that changes.”

Then a hot wet mouth swallows my cock. “Oh. Ooh!” I release a long moan. Everything’s heightened, tied like this, trapped, my ass still throbbing, knowing what Sutter must be looking at.

His sinful tongue lathes up and down my cock. Teeth scrape over the silky flesh, electricity crackles through me, and my balls tighten every time he sucks. My hips try to chase his mouth as he teases me, but the best I can do is lower them a few inches and whine miserably. It’s torture, but it’s the delightful torture of being devoured. I reach a dizzy high, flying far above the clouds of bliss as he sucks and licks, sucks and licks, over and over.

My only complaint about this position is that I can’t touch him, and man do I want to. Want to wrap my legs around him, grind my cock against his. But I also love his ingenuity, keeping me in place so he can tease the fuck out of me.

“Please, Sutter,” I beg. “Wanna cum so bad.”

“You can take what I give you, brat.”

He groans against my cock and a deft hand reaches to play with my open hole. He must have wet the finger because it’s a slick digit sinking inside, pressing all the way to my prostate.

His mouth is suddenly gone, leaving cool air to torture my dick in a new way as his hands explore my hot skin.

“Love the way this looks, so red and used—makes you look like mine. Wish you could see it. You’re dripping, kitten.” He’s got two fingers in my hole now, pumping in and out. All I can do is take it. It’s so good that my breathing stutters and I gasp at every intrusion. “Was Otterhammer gonna make you feel this good?”

Bastard! So that’s his game. I should have known, but he’s fucking done it. He’s made me his filthy little toy, and I want more. I want him. He’s the only one that makes me feel like this—aroused beyond measure, dirty, fucking edible.

And, if I’m being honest, kinda worshipped. When I’m with Sutter, he makes me feel like I’m the only person in his world.

“Say it, kitten. Tell me. Who makes you feel this good?”

His fingers find that spot, the one that must release euphoria in droves because that’s what’s thrumming through me.

“You do,” I breathe. “Fuck, you do, Sutter. You do this to me.” Only you do this to me.

“Fucking right I do.”

Sutter’s mouth returns, but this time it’s his magic tongue, flicking over my hole as his hand strokes my dick, hanging between my legs. His knuckles graze my thighs, reminding me of the exposed position I’m in. He cups my balls, squeezing and tugging, and returns to my saliva-slicked cock to tease it some more. Then he sucks over my hole, catching some of the sensitive skin on my ass. I cry out.

“Please say I can cum, Sutter. I can’t … can’t hold back?—”

“Cum, kitten. I wanna see you cum all over yourself.”

“Fuck.”

I rock back and forth. My brain can’t decide which sensation to focus on—Sutter’s tongue in my ass or his slicked-up hand on my cock—so they all melt together, overwhelming me. I fall over the edge and it’s a beautiful drop. Cum shoots against the back of my legs while I leave the planet for a few long seconds. Blinding pleasure races through me.

My legs fall open—Sutter must have released his weird boat knots or whatever—and then I’m on my back with him between my legs as he licks up some of the cum that’s made its way down my shaft. A quick tug releases my wrists, too, and I do what I’ve been dying to do, bury my hands in his hair. He inhales the smell of sex from my crotch. It’s when he does things like that, they make me wonder if he really is an animal in human form.

“Look at you, completely wrecked,” he says. “As you should be.”

Yeah, he made me this way, so destroyed I can’t speak. He climbs up my body, driving his tongue into my mouth. The salty taste of me coats my tongue, and his hard, forgotten length brushes against my torso.

He gently slaps my cheek. “Feel that? You’ll be taking care of it with your mouth, Alderchuck. You still have a lot of repenting to do that’s gonna be done on your knees, choking on my cock.” He makes himself comfortable beside me, lying on his back, pulling me on top of him, and laughs. “No sassy-ass reply? Did I milk all your sarcasm from your dick too?”

“My sarcasm recharges like a battery, Sutter. Enjoy the break while you have it,” I murmur against his chest.

“Enjoy your break, too. Not only am I using your mouth, but I’ve also got to sink my cock into that red ass of yours. You should see it. Might be my new favorite thing.”

I groan, knowing what that means for me.

“Aww, don’t worry, kitten. Behave yourself, and I’ll refrain from leaving your ass the color of my favorite bandana.”

“I’m never behaved, and you know it.”

“Then I’ve gotta do what I’ve gotta do.”

“Is that supposed to be intimidating? Because you’re not, Sutter.” That’s not true, he’s intimidating as fuck, I’m just not intimidated by him.

“Wow, shortest stretch of good behavior in history, Alderchuck, and I’m talking anyone who’s ever lived.”

His hand slides effortlessly into my hair, gripping it, holding me in place. Yeah, it’s a warning to watch my fucking mouth, but the way he does it reminds me of the rope, kinda cozy, kinda safe. His animalistic sternness is my vibe and I just wanna drown in it.

“I’ve got some aloe in my bag for your ass, Alderchuck. I’ll even massage it in for you in just a bit.”

If only he wasn’t such a raging asshole, I could get used to this.