Breakneck Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #3)

15. Protection Complex

Chapter 15

Protection Complex

Sutter

H e isn’t fucking careful enough and that’s why I’m in a bush at the back of my building, my favorite knife gripped in my hand. Betty. She sleeps with me under my pillow. She’s got a smooth bone handle and a blade I keep razor sharp. Maybe Betty should bite a little blood from Alderchuck. That would teach him.

I watched Casey from the cameras in my condo that show me the front of the building, sauntering up to the door, not paying any attention to his surroundings. It’s as if he wants to be attacked. That’s not on, not if he’s mine. I take care of what’s mine, but I can’t watch him twenty-four-seven. I need to know he’s being smart when I’m not with him or it’ll drive me crazy.

I told him to come to my place this time since we figure Milton and Gina know about us anyway. We’re still being careful, but I don’t see the point in forking out money for a hotel, especially when I’d rather have him in my bed. I texted him to meet me around the back of the building. He didn’t question it, didn’t try to tell me how stupid it was to hang out where it’s the darkest. At least there’s more lighting at the front of the building.

“Sutter? Are you out here? It’s fucking cold, dickface.”

Now he’s letting all the criminals know exactly where he is. He has a lot to learn. He takes another step, the last leaves of fall crunch under his feet. I burst from my bush and grab him from behind, holding my knife to his throat.

He flinches but then sinks into me. “I’d like to believe that this is some hot kinky thing you’ve concocted for tonight but, unfortunately, I know you too well.” He groans. “What did I do this time, Sutter?”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your aftershave. I’ve told you before.”

“A killer could wear the same aftershave.”

“My odds were good.” I still haven’t let him go, but I drop the knife from his throat. “Mind telling me what the fuck you’re doing?”

“You don’t pay attention. What if some crazy person was out here?”

“The only crazy person out here is you.” He sinks into me further, rubbing himself against me. My lips are right by his neck. I need a taste. Just a little pre-game snack. I lick and suck. He moans. “God, Sutter. Don’t stop.”

But I need to until I get him upstairs. I’m not gonna risk fucking Milton filming us again. What a pervert. “C’mon.”

Inside my apartment, I lock all six of the door locks and peek out the peephole for good measure.

“You do that a lot,” he says. “Even before this whole Boston-Vancouver drama. Do you really need that many locks?”

It’s not the first time he’s asked me that, and I usually ignore him when he does. It’s the perfect segue into telling him why I need that many locks, it’s the perfect segue into giving him another piece of me. But I end up hesitating so long, debating if I should tell him, that no answer at all seems better.

“Yes. Shoes,” I tell him, pointing at his feet. He’s wearing a pair of high-top runners, and sweats. He’s still got the bandana, but it’s tied around his head, trapping his tumble of curls inside. He’s also wearing that dirty white hat, the one that’s glued to him when he’s not on the ice.

I steal it and place it backward on my head. I don’t know why I do it. I doubt this thing’s ever been washed, probably infested with his kitten fleas.

“I guess I can let you wear my hat since you let me wear your bandana,” he says, kicking off his shoes. “But that’s coming home with me tonight.”

When he’s de-shoed, I step into his space, resting my hands on his hips. “Do you have a knife?”

“Oh, God. What did I trigger?”

“Nothing. You need something for protection.”

“I’m pretty good with my fists, Sutter. Just ask your nose.” He cackles.

I back him into the wall, slamming a hand by his head. “Why won’t you take this seriously?”

He glances from me to all the locks on my doors. Something clicks for him.

“Okay, if it means that much to you. You alright?” I watch the way his neck moves as he takes hesitant breaths.

“I’m fine.” But shaking off the fear that crept into me’s gonna require my dick in him. That’s the cure to all my problems. “Get your ass in my bedroom.”

“Wait.” He seizes the waistband of my sweats. “Thanks for earlier. I was kinda panicking, I guess. It was nice to have you on my side for once.”

I shake my head. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I’ll never be on your side on the ice, Sutter.” He smacks my face and takes off for the bedroom.

The brat hasn’t been spanked in a while. Is that what he needs? I know I’d like nothing more than to teach his mouthy ass a lesson.

“You just made my palm itchy, Alderchuck!”

I spank him good. Till he’s red with my handprints overlapping multiple times. I spank him till he cries and then I stand him up. Time to fuck the brat out of him. It’ll come back—it always does with Casey—but we’ll have a few moments of serenity.

“Here.” I toss my jersey at him.

He groans. “I thought you forgot,” he says, staring at it like I’ve just handed him a biological weapon.

“Forget how bodaciously Boston beat Vancouver to dust tonight? Never. Put it on.”

“No one uses words like bodaciously anymore,” he mutters as he slides into the thing. “Nineteen eighty-four called, they want their word back.”

I shrug. “My mom’s a Gen-Xer.” Yet another reason I don’t fuck with her. But I’m lost for words. Shit. Why didn’t I do this sooner? Alderchuck in my jersey—just my jersey—does things to my insides.

Mine. All mine. I own your ass, kitten

It fits him well, just a little too big for him, and that makes it all the more perfect. It’s not the one I wore for the game, that one smells like ass and needs washing.

“Whoa, hockey cowboy,” he says, pressing a hand on my chest to stop my attack.

“What do you want?” I’ll give him just about anything right now. He’s all riled up. Extra feisty from the game. That in and of itself turns me on so damn much. But him in my jersey, Sutter in bold font across the back of him? Fuck.

His chest rises, pulling in a lungful of air. “This smells like you.”

He doesn’t ask it like a question, but it’s a question. He wants to know why a clean jersey has so much of me on it. I wore it for a few days, knowing I’d have it on him tonight one way or the other. Now he smells like me. And, well, I was hoping he’d keep it. After what happened today with Milton, I need him to.

“Are you planning on stating the obvious all night?” I’ve stepped into him again, sucking my way up his sweet-tasting skin, planning where I’ll leave my marks on him this time. Definitely somewhere Milton will see them. That’s the last time he gets bossy with my Alderchuck like he did today.

Casey opens his neck for me. “It’s not obvious to me, Sutter. Except that … fuck it, never mind. I need you, too.”

Yeah, never mind because I can’t make sense of my obsession with Alderchuck either. I just know I need to have him.

I suck bruises along his collarbone, adding to the ones I left on him during the game. I inhale him, knowing full well just how crazy I am for being addicted to his scent. But it’s not just his scent anymore, it’s his mixed with mine, and that drives me wild.

Spinning him, I cage him face-first into the wall, pushing the jersey up, digging my fingers into his tender cheeks, the ones I spanked red. Prying them apart, I sink down and shove my tongue inside. Casey smashes the wall with his fist.

“Dammit, Sutter. That fucking tongue. Mmm.” He loses the ability to speak. Little sounds fall from his mouth, he spreads his legs wider for me. I suck and tease him into submission. All the chaotic energy that spins around him settles and he’s putty in my hands.

Or, against my tongue, I guess.

He pushes back. I spank his ass. He moans.

“Please don’t tease me tonight. Just fill me with your cock.”

It’s what I want too. All I want is to be in him. Claiming his ass like we’re animals. I rip open a condom and slide it on. I push lube into him, coaxing him open for me, but only just enough. I want him to feel my dick.

I slide in slow, letting him adjust, and then I pull back to ram inside him again.

“Yes. Yeah! Like that,” he says. “Give it to me, Su-Sutter.”

I admire my name printed across the back of him again while I fuck him, my number, forty-four, right there. It’s like I’ve stamped him with a big, fat, “this one belongs to me” logo.

The slap, slap, slap of my hips smacking against his ass bounces off the walls. I slide in and out of his tight hole over and over again, pounding his prostate the way he likes it.

“I thought you were gonna kill Milton,” he says.

Thank you for reminding me . I redouble my efforts, spanking his ass some more, basically leaving “Sutter was here” signs all over his body. He uses his hands against the wall to brace himself, leaning forward, letting his head drop as I rail him from behind. He has a trembling assgasm around my cock, and I moan my way through a frantic orgasm.

I still haven’t had enough. There’s never enough of him. “Get on the bed, kitten.”

“Whaaa…?”

He doesn’t move fast enough, so I toss him, throwing him onto his back on the bed. I get to see him buried in my jersey, the copperhead snakes looking at me from atop crossed hockey sticks.

Yeah, we got him back boys.

Was I worried that he meant it this time? That he wouldn’t bend to my seductions? Only a little. We agreed to do this until the flavor wore off. Until we’d had our fill. I didn’t mean what I’d said at all, but I couldn’t swallow my damn pride and call him to apologize. Neither could he, though. We’re immature bastards who can’t say what we mean, but we also don’t mean what we say. Not when we’re pissed at each other. At least we seem to get our non-verbal cues and have a mutual, indefinite understanding. There may be hope for us yet.

“For the record, killing Milton crossed my mind, and if he ever does anything like what he did to you today again, a Vancouver-Boston final will be the least of his worries.”

He rolls his eyes. “How sweet. My Goddamn hero.”

I give his face a gentle slap. “Your owner. I fucking own you, Alderchuck.”

He moans.

I stroke Casey’s dick, imprinting the image of him wearing my jersey to my memory bank. Know what? Why rely on memory? I reach past him to my nightstand, snatching my phone. I get one of him half biting his lip, half smiling. I get one of him actually being shy for maybe the first time in his life.

That one may end up bein’ my favorite.

Then I chuck my phone and swallow his cock.

H e's calm and settled for once.

Me too. For once I’m calm and settled, too.

I finally undressed him, wanting his hot skin against mine, wanting to feel his bare chest rise and fall against my ribcage. Breathe in sync with him. He draws circles over the tattoo on my left shoulder. It’s of a skull with a backdrop of irises.

“Do you want to know what it means?”

His eyes catch mine. “You’ll tell me?”

“I asked you, didn’t I?” I’m on edge about telling him, even though I was the one to offer. “It has to do with all the locks on my doors.”

“I’m dying to fucking know that, but you don’t seem like you want to tell me. And before you say it, dickface, yeah, I know it was your idea. Did you lose a bet or somethin’?”

This is going badly. I’m not going to think about it. I’m just gonna jump. I close my eyes.

“The iris is a symbol of protection.”

Casey sits up. “I think I’m with you.”

I frown. “How could you be?” I’ve barely said anything. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten something I haven’t said. It’s starting to creep me out.

He counts off on his fingers. “You ambushed me from a bush—is that irony? Not sure—and it wasn’t even the first time. You want me to carry a knife, even though I usually roam some of the safest neighborhoods on the planet. Not to mention, while I might not be as big as you, I’m still an almost six-foot hockey player. You’ve got more locks on your doors than a prison … shall I go on?” I shake my head. “You consider yourself a protector,” he summarizes.

“More or less.”

“I guess it’s kind of endearing in a Sutter-ish kind of way.” He thinks about it. “Nope, I need the context, otherwise it’s just fucking weird, man. Of course, you don’t have to tell me, but I reserve the right to my opinion until further notice.”

It’s clear in the air that I’m on the precipice of something serious, which is why he’s making jokes. That’s exactly what I needed.

“Before Mom married Francisco, we lived in a different neighborhood. We were broken into one night. After that, I knew I had to protect my mom.”

“I think your perspective as a child was a bit skewed. I’ve never met her, but she birthed you. That alone should scare away any monster I can think of.”

My lips crack a smile. “She’s pretty damn resilient on her own, but I was nine, and I got it in my head that it was my job to protect her. She seemed to, I dunno, encourage it…? She knew I needed something new to hang onto, so she deemed me her protector.”

Casey rolls toward me. “And then it became your entire personality. Good job, Sutter’s mom.” He gives her a round of applause.

I snag him by the roots of his hair and kiss him.

“That’s not what I expected for snark like that,” he says.

Me neither. Even I can’t predict what I’ll do when I’m with him, and I like that. He doesn’t do the same shit everyone else would do. A little knot in my gut unfurls.

“I’ve got cool tattoos with meaning too. I’m sure you’ve seen the one on my back?”

“The one that says poutine in the middle of a heart?”

“Yeah. Some people get the actual poutine image, but that would have been stupid.”

I raise a brow. “That’s what would have been stupid?” He’s ridiculous. The most ridiculous person I’ve ever met. I yank him back to my chest and nuzzle my face into his neck. “I get it, we all get it, Alderchuck. You love poutine.”

“Mom and I loved poutine,” he corrects.

Oh. Well, shit. He’s still ridiculous, but his “I love poutine” tattoo is actually an “I love Mom” tattoo. It’s so endearing that it’s a tad heartbreaking.

I give him the same space he gives me when I tell him something and let that settle between us rather than coming up with a meaningless platitude.

“That’s what you did tonight with Milton,” he says after a while. “You were protecting me.”

It’s not the only thing I was doing, but let’s go with that. I nod.

“I can take care of myself, Sutter, but I don’t mind. It’s like having my very own guard dog. Maybe I’ll get you some doggie treats for when you’ve done a good job.” He laughs at his own joke.

I smack his tender ass. He laughs harder into my neck.

“Oh, c’mon. It was funny. And now you have my permission?—"

“Wasn’t asking your permission, and the knife is non-negotiable,” I say, almost able to hear what he’s thinking. My heart beats too quickly, thinking about him out there unprotected.

“I know, Jeez. I didn’t say that out loud—that’s fucking eerie, Sutter.” He huffs. “I told you I would. Don’t know how to use one, but guess it couldn’t hurt.”

“Good boy.”

“ Sutter ,” he complains, hiding his face. That makes him shy because he likes it.

“Do you like good boy or good kitten better?” I say, forcing him to look at me.

He bites his lip barely able to breathe. “Fuck, I like ‘em both, okay? But back to you and your protection fetish, is it appropriate to give state-of-the-art door locks to someone like that for Christmas?”

“Alderchuck—”

“Or maybe a new alarm system. I can afford it now— mmph. ”

I can shut him up by kissing him. Why am I only realizing this now?