Breakneck Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #3)

20. Motorbike

Chapter 20

Motorbike

Casey

H e’s a mountain in all that black leather. It makes his shoulders look even bigger than they are, and they’re pretty big already. Ask my collarbone, which gets rammed by them all the time. There’s something foreign on his face. A smile. He’s usually an unsmiling fucker, but this one reaches his eyes.

Sutter insisted that he be the one to pick me up. I told Stacey I didn’t want to go, but he pushed me out the door in his Arc’teryx jacket. The man was already waiting for me, leaning against his car. How is he not freezing his ass off in leather? It’s not snowing in Vancouver, but it’s cold enough that I’ve stopped wearing flip-flops.

Okay, so maybe my brother was the one to point out that I should throw on a pair of boots—threatened me life and limb if I’m being honest—but still.

Sutter crooks two fingers.

My feet have a mind of their own, almost skipping their way to him. Traitorous feet.

He bends down for a kiss. Tangy watermelon sweetness bursts across my tongue. Sutter pushes something inside my mouth. He pulls away, leaving the candy clacking against my teeth. Did he really just…? Yeah, he did. He gave me a Jolly Rancher with his mouth. I can’t decide if that’s more hot or adorable.

Know what? Probably as adorable as Sutter’s ever gonna get, so I’m going with that.

He fingers the puffy collar of my brother’s jacket and his forehead rests against mine. Like it did yesterday. I didn’t miss that shit. It’s weird, couply shit, and we are not a couple.

All I know is that he wants to show me something. He’s being secretive, and coy. Not sure that’s a good mix for Sutter. It could mean bad news for me. But we have the game tonight and, for once, the odds were in our favor because neither of us had practice.

“If you don’t fucking open your trap and start explaining yourself, Sutter?—”

“Can you have patience for five fucking seconds, kitten?” He kisses my forehead. My damn forehead. What’s with Sutter?

“I’ll try. Aren’t you fucking cold in this?” I say, fingering under the lapels of the smooth leather.

“This one’s lined with sheep’s wool; it’s toasty as fuck in here. Did you think I wouldn’t be prepared for the winter?” He raises a bemused brow.

“Yeah. Checks out.”

“C’mon.”

He drives me to a sprawling home in the Shaughnessy area of Vancouver. It’s an area known as The Crescent and some of the houses there are old, but they’re also the houses most can only dream of buying because they’re expensive as hell. The barren weeping willows sway, waving in the slight breeze. Sutter parks and we fall in stride together as we walk toward the house, our knuckles grazing each other, daring one of us to make the first move and grab on. Neither of us does.

“This is my parents’ house,” he announces. “They’re not here,” he quickly explains before I have a heart attack. We are so far from the “meet the parents” stage. “They took Isla to one of her dance things in Kamloops.”

“Isla?”

“My baby sister. She’s ten.”

Huh. The more you know. I know every way Sutter likes his dick sucked. I know what he sounds like when I have my tongue up his ass. I know he sometimes screams in his sleep. But that’s the extent of my knowledge.

“That why you’re so good with kids?”

“One of.”

The more he won’t tell me, the more I need to know. The bastard’s doing it on purpose.

He leads me through a gate toward a large garage-looking structure. The inside’s filled with tools and shit. Something’s in the middle covered with a tarp. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Sutter looks nervous, but that can’t be.

“Fuck it,” he mumbles and rips the tarp off.

Underneath is a motorcycle. It’s one of those old, tall handlebar ones, though. A gleaming copper gas tank. One large headlight in the front. The chrome sparkles head to toe. Someone takes immaculate care of this vintage piece.

I give a low whistle. “Gorgeous. We could start a gang with all the bikes accumulating in the family. Unless you’re already in one?” I run a hand over the leather seat.

He scowls, catching my hand by the wrist. “You’d better not have greasy-ass hands, Alderchuck.”

“I don’t have greasy hands, asshole.”

“You didn’t eat anything before I picked you up?”

“I had a small snack, but I washed my hands after. I’m not an animal.”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t mhm me.” I use my free hand to smack him in the face. He catches it before it can make contact.

Sutter traps me against this body so that I can’t touch anything. Even him.

“I’m not good at show and tells, Sutter,” I whine. “Does it work? Take me for a ride.”

“It works, but it’s the wrong time of year for a ride.”

“Then why you showing me this?”

He circles his arms around me and buries his lips into my hair. “It was Dad’s. Ma gave it to me when I turned sixteen. And I just … we don’t have a lot of time together, you and me. When we do we spend it doing other things. I didn’t know when I’d get another chance.”

Now I’m thinking about those other things. We’re pretty damn good at them. Ah. Oh. No, wait. I was distracted—thinking about Sutter’s dick will always distract me—but I think I follow him now. This is important to him, and he wanted to share it with me.

“Do you want to know?” he finally says. “If you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

Sutter’s like a rock right now. I love that he’s trying to tell me this thing about his dad, but he can’t even say the words. I’ve had to decode Sutter since we got here. I don’t want him putting himself through this for me.

“What do I want to know?”

“How he died.”

Deaths are never good. Some are more horrific than others. Nobody wants to relive that shit.

“Sutter, if it’s something you need to tell me, I’m here for you, man. But do you know what I’d rather know?”

“What?”

“How he lived. Tell me about that. Did he take you for rides on this bike? What was his favorite color? Did he like poutine?”

His lungs heave a relieved exhale, and the tension visibly drains from him as his breathing evens out. He laughs. “You’re good at that, making big things not so big. I dunno how you do it. Yeah, I think I can tell you about him. I miss him so bad.”

Sutter’s arms get tighter.

“We never got to go on a real ride, Mom thought I was too small, so he’d take me around the block and stuff.”

“That’s rad, Sutter. It must have been fucking cool to have a dad like that. I don’t even know who mine is—hence all my daddy issues,” I say with a wink, so he knows it’s lighthearted. When I was a kid, not having a dad was a bummer but, with Mom and Auntie Annie, I didn’t feel like I was missing out too much. We made jokes about it. That’s how Alderchucks do it.

It pulls another one of those smiles out of him. One just for me. “I’m totally making you call me Daddy one of the times I fuck you, Alderchuck.”

I groan. “My fault. I handed that one to you.” When humiliation kink is your kink, everything can be your kink because it just has to embarrass the fuck out of you—that’ll do it.

His lips crush mine. His bear-paw hands claw at my jacket and it gets tossed over the bike.

“Get on the bike. I want a picture.”

Sutter and his fucking album of me for his spank bank. I can’t help but humor him, though. I climb onto the bike as if I’ve done it loads of times but pose like I’m Troye Sivan. He snaps way too many photos of me.

“Okay, off.”

I swing my leg over. “Get what you needed Sutt?—”

Oof! I’m pushed face forward into a wooden wall. My brain’s catching up, but my dick’s already on board, at attention, ready to do what Sutter tells us to do. My pants and boxers are peeled down enough to expose my ass. The cold stings, but not for long. He smacks the bare skin, lighting a blossom of delicious pain over my right ass cheek, and igniting hot arousal. My cock throbs.

He trails wet kisses down my body, pushing my shirt up enough to access my torso. Feverish bites sink into my skin, marking me to fuck. He pries my ass cheeks apart and his tongue slips inside. Fuck, Sutter’s on his knees behind me, making out with my ass—he’s obsessed with eating my ass. I stick my ass out more to give him better access, my fist slams against the wall repeatedly.

“Fuck, that’s so good. Don’t fucking stop. Please don’t fucking stop.”

The image of him on his knees for me back there does things to me. His leather jacket creaks—he hasn’t even taken it off—and it’s easy to picture the way his hair falls over his face, trapped partially by his bandana. His hands are sure and powerful, nails digging into my cheeks. There’s squelching when he sucks. A long finger slips inside to find my prostate— bingoooaaaahhh —and I wanna hump the damn wall.

All the places he bit me throb in time with my dick. Fuck, it buzzes with tingles, the skin so tight it might burst.

“Cum, baby. I want you to cum all over the ground,” he murmurs.

There it is again, the baby. I wasn’t sure if he was fucking with me the first time. The second time, he was being Sutter about it and so I knew for sure that he wasn’t fucking with me the first time. Did that knowledge bring clarity? No.

But now I know how much the man wants me, he’s here showing me his dad’s bike for Christ’s sake. Baby sinks into my beating heart.

Whatever’s holding him back from rushing things, I’m glad. I don’t want a man who isn’t sure about us. I don’t want him to have any doubt, not even a grain of rice-sized. I’m a lot to take. A man’s gotta have—oh God—Rhett levels of commitment to be with me.

I let go. The world disappears for a moment, but not his tongue. It’s just me, my ass, and Sutter’s tongue in some kinda parallel universe. Holy fuck. Is this what they mean when they say “out of body” experience? I think I’m having that right now. My dick explodes onto the dirt floor. My knees buckle.

Sutter’s there to catch me and suck another hickey into my neck.

“What was that for?” I’m still breathless.

“Casey … I think I’m … I think I?—”

One of the double-wood doors swings open. “Mitchell, are you in here … oh.”

An attractive man with dark hair, dressed in khakis and a sharp button down, freezes at the entry.

“Mitch! Mitchy we?—”

There’s a woman, spinning a little girl into her, attempting to avert her eyes. But it’s too late. They’ve all seen my freshly spent penis. This is Sutter’s family, isn’t it? And here I thought our equally volatile dispositions would be responsible for our demise. This. This is how we end, before we ever get started. Because I can never look them in the face, ever. I’m going to live under a rock from this point on. Change my name. Dye my hair so I’m unrecognizable and move to a tiny island where no one knows who I am.

Sutter’s large hands cover my dick, but that doesn’t really help, so I’m suddenly stumbling behind him.

“You’re home early,” Sutter says.

Sutter’s stepdad gives him what I imagine to be a very dad sort of look. “Meet us in the kitchen, Mitchell.”

The whole interaction took a minute, tops, but it feels like eternities have passed. New planets have been formed. New species have evolved into being.

“It’s been nice knowing you, Sutter,” I say as I pull up my pants, covering my wilted cock.

“C’mon. We’ll be fine. They’re cool, just a little shocked. I don’t bring men home.” He holds his hand out.

I stare at it as if it might grow teeth and bite me. “What the fuck is happening, Sutter?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know, but let’s find out, eh?”

I might regret this. No, I definitely will regret this. But I have never made the right decision about Sutter in my life. Why start now? I take his hand and follow him down whatever trail of hell he’s leading me toward this time.