“Mmm, you’re nice and relaxed,” Cole purred. “I bet you could take something more than my fingers.”

  I bit my lip. “Bet I could.”

  “Want me to try?”

  I nodded without hesitating. Hell, yeah. I was so ready. All those unpleasant feelings from last time were a distant memory, and I just needed. I needed his dick. I needed to come. I needed to be ridden slow, fast, gentle, hard.

  Come on, come on. I pressed my forehead into the pillow. Come on, baby.

  Cole moved on top of me. His body was hot against mine, and his lips were soft against my neck as he whispered, “This okay?”

  You mean aside from the part where your dick is against my ass, not in it?

  “Y-yeah. It’s… It’s good.” Ah, there were my nerves. Present and accounted for. They weren’t enough to make me want to turn back, though. Last time we’d tried this, I’d been so nervous, I couldn’t relax. Tonight, I knew he wasn’t blowing smoke when he said we could stop and that everything would be fine. Worst-case scenario? We switched, and I topped him instead. I didn’t have to knuckle through pain in order to eventually enjoy this. It was a process, and there was no failure—just the realization that I needed more time to work up to it.

  Knowing that, I wasn’t tense at all. And the enthusiastic rimming and gentle fingering definitely helped. I was so beyond turned on, so hungry for this thing I’d been fantasizing about since forever…

  Fuck me, for God’s sake!

  “Same rules still apply,” he said as if I could concentrate with the head of his cock teasing my ass. “We can stop any time.”

  I nodded but didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. I was so turned on, so focused on the way he was gently prodding at my hole, and stopping wasn’t even in my vocabulary right now. I physically ached to have him, and I wanted every inch of him.

  Cole pushed a little harder now, enough to meet some slight resistance. He backed off. Pressed again. Patient. Easy. Unhurried.

  I closed my eyes and sighed, relaxing even more, and then…

  Oh, Jesus.

  I’d taken toys and fingers, but the sensation of his cock pushing past the tight ring of muscle liquefied me.

  He withdrew, then pushed back in, giving me that delicious sensation all over again.

  “Do that…” I licked my lips. “Do that again?”

  “Hmm?” Cole did it again. “This?”

  “Y-yeah.” I pressed my forehead into the pillow. “Oh my God.”

  He laughed softly. “Feels good, doesn’t it? When you first…” He moaned softly. “When you first take it?”

  All I could do was whimper.

  Then he eased in deeper, and my head lightened as he slowly, carefully worked himself all the way in. When his hips pressed against my ass cheeks, I couldn’t help shivering—I’d taken him completely. And it felt good. It felt amazing. Oh my God, I was bottoming, and Cole was topping me, and it was awesome.

  “Still good?” There was a grin in his voice, so I was pretty sure he knew the answer.

  “More,” I pleaded, curling my fingers around handfuls of sheets. “Baby, more.”

  From that low, wicked laugh, I thought he was going to tease me, but he didn’t. He gave me more, rocking slowly so I could feel every inch as he slid all the way out and back in, and I just… I got lost in it. In him. In being fucked. I had no idea if I could come like this. I still wasn’t even hard. Who cared? I couldn’t get enough. The stretch… The slide… Oh God, this was amazing.

  Cole kissed the back of my neck, sending electricity all the way down my spine. “You feel so good.”

  “Mmph. This is… Fuck.”

  “Oh yeah, bottoming is awesome.” His lips grazed just below my hair. “Now you know what I feel whenever you’re in me.”

  I closed my eyes and shivered as every time before this flashed through my mind. I wasn’t just enjoying the ride this time. I was seeing Cole’s face when he was taking me, and that mental porno alongside the real thing was too hot for words.

  “I mean it,” Cole murmured, “you feel so good.” He exhaled hard, his breath rushing past my neck. “I don’t want to rush through this, but… God, I want to come.” As soon as he said it, his hips jerked and he gasped. “Fuck. Parker, I’m… Oh God, baby, I want to come.” It took a second thanks to my sex-fogged brain, but I realized there was a question in his voice. He wanted to come, but did I want him to?

  “Come,” I grunted, rocking my hips as much as I could. “Fuck, yeah. Come.”

  He groaned low in his throat, and he picked up speed, driving a whimper out of me because I hadn’t thought this could feel any more amazing, and now it did. I didn’t know if I could take it, and then Cole’s breath stuttered, and I had to grab on to the mattress for dear life. He swore against my neck, and he shuddered hard, and I didn’t know if I was imagining it or not but I swear I could feel his cock pulsing inside me as he came.

  Sighing, he relaxed over me, touching his forehead to my shoulder. “Mmph. Wow.”

  I laughed kind of drunkenly. “You’re telling me.”

  He gave a soft, amused huff and kissed my shoulder. Then he shifted a little and pulled out. “Give… Give me a sec to get rid of this. Then it’s your turn to get off.”

  Wait, I hadn’t come yet? Oh. Right. I hadn’t.

  Which meant this was going to get even better?

  Rolling onto my back, I closed my eyes and smiled.

  Goddamn. Sex really was worth waiting this long.

  Chapter 14

  Cole

  Are the Breakers back in town yet?

  I had never in my life given two fiery fucks about hockey, but now I was practically memorizing the Seattle Breakers’ schedule. I’d even downloaded their app, which told me when home games were scheduled and whether away games were being broadcast. I still didn’t know much about the sport, though Luca was slowly teaching me, but I sure as shit knew when and where the team was playing and—most importantly—when they were heading back to Seattle.

  And when I knew they were on this trajectory, I’d watch my profile like a hawk, waiting for that notification that I’d received a booking.

  According to the app, yes, the Breakers were back in town. They’d been on the road for six days, and now that they were home, I wasn’t at all surprised when I got a notification around mid-afternoon that I had a booking on Emerald City.

  Except… it wasn’t Parker.

  I’d excitedly opened the app, ready to confirm the hell out of it—you’re damn right I want to book this client—only to discover it wasn’t him at all. Instead, I instantly recognized the avatar of one of my semi-regulars. One of my semi-regulars who tipped well and wasn’t a dick.

  I hemmed and hawed for a while. I really couldn’t afford to piss off my regulars. Parker was quickly becoming one of them—we’d already had to add more bookings to his block more than once—and I hoped that continued long after he was confident in the bedroom, but I couldn’t put all my eggs in one basket. This was my job. No matter how much I liked spending time with Parker, he was a client, and clients booked me on a first come, first served basis. This guy had beaten Parker to the punch tonight. Yes, Parker and I had exchanged a few texts about it, but he hadn’t actually confirmed it, so…

  With a resigned sigh, I texted Parker to let him know I had someone who wanted to book me for tonight:

  Let me know if you want me to keep that time slot open for you.

  When he wrote back, he said, Go ahead and book the client. Honestly I think I need to spend this evening with an icepack.

  Wait, what? Are you okay?

  I’m fine. Probably won’t be great in bed tonight, though.

  Okay, but you’re all right? You’re not like badly hurt?

  Nothing like that. Promise.

  In between texts After confirming for sure that he wasn’t seriously hurt—way to scare a man, Parker!—I took the other the booking. And then I kept right on texting with Parker in between getting ready to go. When I finally said I had to bail because I needed to drive, he responded, Don’t have too much fun. ;)

  Chuckling, I pocketed my phone, gave myself another look in the bathroom mirror, and headed out to earn my pay for the evening.

  A few hours later, I left the client’s house. I stopped for gas, but before I drove away from the pump, I texted Parker to see how he was doing. When I got home, texting turned into FaceTiming for half the night. That made sense, though. He’d been telling me about how he’d wrenched his hip and mildly sprained his knee, and it was just easier to do that in a conversation instead of typing out the whole thing on his phone. Obviously.

  Of course that had led to him mentioning that he was going to be on injured reserve for a little while, and then he’d had to explain injured reserve to me, and at some point, it had dawned on one of us that if he was home with an injury… we should see each other. After all, being too jacked up to play hockey didn’t mean he was too jacked up for sex, did it? Like, did it mean he’d be too sore and miserable to fool around tomorrow night?

  Spoiler—no, it did not.

  “Oh, yeah,” Parker moaned, fingers digging into my thighs as I rode his cock. “Oh, that’s so fucking good.”

  “Yeah?” I kept my palms on his chest for balance, and I rolled my hips, earning me a gasp and a helpless whimper. “Come for me, baby.”

  He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t move his hips much—he was still sore—but he complemented me as much as he could and… God, yeah, that was good.

  “I’m gonna come,” he mumbled. “Fuck…”

  I shifted onto one arm and started pumping myself, and when he looked down at me stroking my dick, he whispered curses and encouragement as every muscle in his body tensed.

  Then his whole body jerked, and he arched as he cried out “oh God!” and I kept riding him through his orgasm until he dropped back on the bed with a heavy sigh. I slowed to a stop and, with his cock still buried in me, I kept jerking myself.

  Parker paused to catch his breath, but only for a moment. Then he nudged my hand out of the way. “No. Let me.”

  I didn’t argue. I did, however, lean down a little, and he lifted his head to meet me partway. Curving his other hand behind my neck, he kissed me as enthusiastically as he stroked me, and… dear God. So hot. So… So… Fuck…

  I had to break the kiss just to gasp for breath, but he kept me close to him, pressing our foreheads together as he whispered, “You gonna come?”

  “Ooh, yeah.” My voice was shaking, and I wasn’t even surprised. “Almost there. Oh my God. I’m—”

  He tightened his grip and ran his thumb over the head of my dick, and I lost it, grunting as my hips jerked and I shot cum all over his hand and our stomachs.

  With a shiver and a soft groan, I relaxed. Parker let go of my neck and my cock, then wrapped his arms around me and just let me catch my breath.

  “Shower?” I murmured. “Before one of us falls asleep?”

  “Good idea.”

  We were both a little unsteady on our feet, which wasn’t unusual. Since Parker’s knee was still really sore, I let him lean on me while we showered. Not that I minded him leaning on me anyway—I was all for any excuse to be touching him, and as long as we were close enough to lean, we might as well make out, right?

  We just didn’t stay in the shower for long. Once he started wincing, I hustled us out of the bathroom and back to his bed, and his relief was clear as he settled back against the pillows.

  “Oh, man, this stupid sprain sucks.”

  “I bet.” I helped him slide another pillow under his knee. “It’s better, though, isn’t it?”

  “Way better.” He nodded sharply. “The doc said it was a really mild sprain. He and my coach didn’t even think I’d need to be off the ice for very long, but they both pushed to keep me out for at least four weeks. Mostly because they’re worried I’ll make it worse and turn it into one of those injuries that haunts me for the rest of my career. So out of an abundance of caution…” Sighing, he rolled his eyes. “I get it. It just sucks.”

  “I’m sure. And they’re probably right—playing through a sprain, you’d probably pay for it later.”

  Parker nodded. “Probably.” He met my eyes, a faint smile playing at his lips. “So I guess I’ll be in town for the next month or so. If, um… If you’ve got room in your schedule…?”

  I tried not to let it show that my pulse had jumped. “Sure, yeah.” I grinned. “I’m happy to keep you company.”

  The smile came to life. “Awesome. That, um… That won’t keep you from your other clients, will it?”

  “Nah. I mean, if someone books me, they book me, but if you’ve already booked an evening?” I shrugged. “Their loss.”

  He chuckled, but then his expression turned shy. “Does this mean I should lock down another ten sessions after this set? Or however many? Because we burned through the others like two weeks ago, and we’re blowing through these pretty fast.”

  “Again? Oh wow. We did, didn’t we?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, damn.” That explained why my bank account was looking so sexy these days. “Yeah, we can arrange something again. And, um, since you’re booking me so often, I don’t need to charge you as much as—”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I want to pay you, same as anyone else. It doesn’t make sense for you to get paid less for more work.”

  I barely stopped myself from musing out loud that this didn’t feel much like work. Sometimes the job itself absolutely did, but with Parker…

  Well, that was a mental road I could go down when I wasn’t lying in bed with him. “It’s not that uncommon, honestly. If someone books us a lot, we’ll cut them deals.”

  He was already shaking his head. “I can afford to pay you. I’d rather pay your regular price.”

  “It’s your call.” I smiled. “But the option is there.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Somehow, I didn’t think he would. And I appreciated clients who wanted to pay full price, especially those like him who insisted on generously tipping as well. They made it a lot easier to go through those dry spells when it seemed like no one was booking me at all.

  Parker shifted a little, and he winced. “Ugh, stupid knee.”

  I straightened. “Does it hurt? You want me to grab you an icepack?”

  “Nah, it’s fine. Just achy and annoying.” He paused, then chuckled as he turned to me. “I don’t think having someone over for sex is what the docs had in mind when they told me to take it easy, but…” He shrugged. “What they don’t know won’t hurt me.”

  Laughing, I winked. “I won’t tell if you don’t. And I’m pretty sure we can find ways to avoid straining your knee.”

  “Hmm, true. We can. That thing we were doing earlier didn’t hurt my knee.”

  Oh, Lord. More of that? Yes, please. “What about your hip?”

  “Eh, it’s not bad. That’s just some muscle strain, and it’s annoying more than anything.” He ran a fingertip along my forearm. “Not enough to make me want to stop.”

  “Good to know.” I leaned in for a soft kiss. “If it does get to that point, I’m pretty sure we can change things up.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  We lay in comfortable silence for a little while, occasionally kissing and mostly just enjoying the relaxed afterglow. Some clients wanted me to go as soon as they came, but Parker was never in any hurry to kick me out. Sometimes we dozed. Sometimes we talked. He seemed to be wide awake this time, and so was I, so after a while, I turned on my side and propped my head up on my arm. “I’m curious about something.”

  “Hmm?”

  “If you don’t mind my asking…” I studied him. “The whole reason you hired me—since you didn’t have any experience—was that by choice? Like did you not want to fool around with anyone? Or…?”

  Parker blushed, pulling his gaze away from mine and staring up at the ceiling. “It was kind of by choice, kind of not.”

  “Meaning?”

  He licked his lips, faint crevices forming between his eyebrows as he seemed to think about it for a moment. “I grew up hearing that there was no place for gay guys in hockey. I realized I was gay when I was twelve, and by then, I’d already heard so much homophobia, I knew I needed to keep my sexuality to myself unless I wanted to give up hockey.”

  “Oh, Jesus.” I ran my free hand up his arm. “I guess it’s hard to imagine, since there are so many gay players now.”

  “I know right?” Parker laughed softly. “I’m on a team with three out players. Believe me when I say that twelve-year-old me would never in a million years believe that.”

  “I can imagine. But hockey players have been out for a while, haven’t they? I never really kept up with the sport, but I remember one coming out a long time ago, and after that, there were more.”

  “Oh yeah, it’s better now. But it took a while.” Parker wiped a hand over his face. “Nate Morgan was the first, and he came out while I was in junior high. Like a year after I figured out I was gay, one of the top active pro hockey players comes out, and I just remember people being disgusted by it. There were guys on my team who stopped wearing their Morgan jerseys and had all kinds of names for him. My coaches weren’t any better. Everyone talked openly about how they’d have beaten him up if they’d been on his team, and like every time he missed a goal or lost the puck, they’d start ranting about how he sucked. He was still the top scorer in the League at that time, but if he wasn’t absolutely perfect, then it was just evidence that guys like him shouldn’t be playing hockey. And all I could think was, holy shit, what if they find out I’m gay? And what if I get to the college or pro levels, and then someone finds out?”

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  “Yeah. So for a long time, I focused on three things.” He held up his hand and ticked the points off on his fingers. “Hockey. School. Not letting anyone so much as suspect that I was gay.”