20. MILES

TWENTY

MILES

The Kiki brothers are pains in my pads. The second-ever game I was called up for last year, I was overconfident from my amazing NHL debut.

Those assholes caught me unaware and handed me my ass. I’d never been so embarrassed walking off the ice.

This time though, I’m walking off the ice happy.

Which is ridiculous because I’m pissed at the loss, annoyed we couldn’t put a single point on the board and Colorado got four of them past me. The difference between last year and tonight, though, is that I know the rest of my team sucked as much as I did.

We reach the locker room, where I dodge reporters to cool down and shower. I drag the process out, wanting to be ready right as we’re grabbing our gear and heading out to the bus. Jorgensen tries to motivate us a couple of times, then stops trying, and the rest of the team are kinda bleh.

Especially Bilson.

That major penalty was … something.

Hot. It was hot, Miles.

I’d barely worked out what had happened when Bilson shot past and took Easton out. My heart had jumped into my damn throat for a second after that hit, and then the adrenaline, the pressure of the game, and Bilson’s raw anger and strength were all too much for me to process.

It’s no wonder I let Easton’s easy goal past me. Being distracted on the ice is a no go, but being distracted by a misbehaving dick makes things impossible.

So yeah.

That last goal was all on me. The others were because my teammates had an off night. They’ve forgiven me plenty, so I’m happy to give them this one.

On the bus, I take my usual seat next to Bilson, but we don’t talk. Something’s up with him, but I’m scared that if I open my mouth, “I’m horny” will fall out, and my whole team doesn’t need to know.

Just Bilson.

“Anyone heading out?” Stoll asks, almost like an afterthought.

A few guys murmur about an early night, and some others mention the hotel bar.

Bilson sighs. “I’m good for one or two.”

My hand comes down on his thigh. “Dude, you got a major penalty tonight. Don’t you think you should sleep it off?” My fingers dig into his muscle in warning.

“Ah, yeah. You’re right. Penalty. Very bad.”

Finch snickers. “You really are married. Listen to Rookie, the old ball and chain.”

“If I’m anything as hot as your wife, Finch, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Fuck off, Rook.”

I lean forward and thump him in the arm. “Don’t call me Rook.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

He turns around, confusion rightfully marring his face. “But you’re our rookie.”

“Call me rookie, then. Or Olsen. Or shithead, I don’t care. Just don’t call me Rook.”

I’m sure half the bus has thought I’ve lost my mind, while the other half already assumed.

“Too easy, shithead.”

“That’s better.”

Bilson is shaking with silent laughter beside me. “Weirdo.”

I check the guys across from us aren’t watching and blow him a kiss.

Another night,another stolen card, another bucket of ice. Only this time, we won’t be drinking.

I let myself into Bilson’s room and find him lying on his bed, arms tucked behind his head like he was waiting for me.

“I thought I was a naughty boy who had to go to his room?”

“I don’t think I said those words.” I kick the door closed behind me and approach the bed, where I set the bucket of ice on the nightstand and then disappear into the bathroom for a washcloth. When I get back, Bilson’s kicked his legs over the side and is watching me.

He’s got a split eyebrow that’s already been cleaned up, but all under his eye, the skin is splotchy purple and swollen.

“How do you look hotter all busted up?” I ask, filling the washcloth with ice. “It should be a criminal offense.”

His teasing smile finally makes an appearance. “Hot, huh?”

“I don’t get it either. Somehow, dried blood in your eyebrow makes me want to jump your bones.”

Bilson’s sharp eyes watch me as I step closer, nudging his knees open with my own until there’s enough space between his legs for me to stand. Then I tilt his head up with my free hand and press the ice to his face with the other.

“You got into a fight for me,” I tease him.

Bilson huffs. “No one touches my goalie.”

“Your goalie … or me?”

His glare is adorable.

“I’ll warn you that one of those options comes with a very sincere thank-you that I think you’ll like, so choose wisely.”

Bilson’s big hands land on my hips. “You gonna let me fuck you if I say that I saw red over him potentially hurting you by being careless?”

My bones melt. Now, that’s what I call bromantic.

“Maybe,” I hedge. While it sounds like a great idea, there’s this need in my gut to make tonight about him. To maybe try … something else.

“No one touches my Rook,” he finally says.

I step closer. “Such a big, strong protector. Defending me like that out there.”

His gravelly hum perks up my cock as his hands slip to rest on my ass. The last two times we’ve done this have been as hands-off as possible. No eye contact, no talking about anything other than the logistics. The awkwardness was thick pre- and post-sex, but this time, I’m not as nervous. I can’t tell if he feels the same, but he doesn’t look away when I pin him in my stare, faces only inches apart, and say, “You know … one of my holes is getting jealous that the other gets all the action.”

It takes him a second, but the moment he catches on, his eyes darken and drop to my lips. “Jealous?”

“Uh-huh. My mouth wants a go of your cock.” It’s not even about thanking him either, as much as I might play it off that way. Him fucking me is out of this world, but the thought of all that girth stretching out my lips, using my mouth, just for his pleasure … urg. My dick is so hard.

“You’re so greedy for it. It turns me on like crazy.”

I toss the makeshift cold pack aside, then drop to my knees, tugging down Bilson’s fly. His dick presses forward like a fucking jack-in-the-box, trapped in his boxers, and seeing how hard he is goes straight to my head.

I’ve never touched his cock. He’s never touched mine—other than with a fake pussy as a barrier. My heart is goddamn hammering, and my hands are clammy, but even with all the nerves, I’m excited.

My teasing is gone when I drag my gaze away and look up at him. “You want me to suck your cock, CB?”

A long “Yessss” hisses past his teeth.

Holy shit, it’s happening.

I grab his boxers, and Bilson lifts his hips so I can drag those and his pants down his legs. Then I’m faced with the sight of thick, hairy thighs, heavy balls, and a long cock, reddened at the tip, vein standing out angrily on the underside.

Bilson must take my hesitation for doubt instead of sheer lust because he shifts. “You don’t have to. If you’ve changed your mind.”

Fuck that. I lean forward, confidently keeping eye contact, and suck his tip into my mouth.

How’s that for doubt?

I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but Bilson’s eyes flutter a second before mine do, and I might have been scared about starting and not liking it, but that worry is gone.

I reach down and press between my legs to get my dick to settle, then pull off him.

“I wanna warn you that this might just be the best head you’ve ever gotten, so try not to propose, okay?”

He barks a laugh and cards a hand through my hair, pushing my face down again. “Just suck it already.”

“Ah, say more things like that.” I spit into my hand and wrap it around him, then suck him back down again. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know what feels good on me, so I try to go with that. Smooth strokes right down to his balls, tongue flicking against the tiny spot on the underside of his cock right before his tip flares out. The only problem is this is way harder than it looks.

Coordinating all that at once? No way. Deep-throating? Forget about it. My jaw is stretched wide and tongue working overtime, but whenever his tip nudges my throat, I gag.

It’s starting to frustrate me. I want to make this good, damn it. Want to be the best.

“So good. Like that, Miles, so fucking good.”

A thrill runs through me. I don’t know if he could pick up on my annoyance and is reassuring me or if he really means it, but my body doesn’t care. My cock is begging for more.

He increases the pressure on the back of my head as his hips give tiny thrusts. The grunts he’s trying to hold back are delicious, and I’m so desperate to pull my cock out and jerk off, but I’m trying to hold off, trying to focus on him and making him come.

The way he’s using my mouth, fucking my face, has my whole body on fire. It doesn’t have any right to be this hot, and the only thing that could make it better is hearing him talk dirty to me.

The noises he’s making are incredible though. I’m not complaining. Especially not when he gets a little rougher, pulls my hair a little tighter. I keep jerking him, resigned that if I can’t give the best blowjob, it will have to be the sloppiest.

“Yes … So hot. You’re such a—” He cuts off, and I hate it. I need him to keep talking. Need to hear those husky words, the ones he can barely control.

I moan around him, looking up to find him watching. Pupils blown wide, jaw tense, both terrifyingly turned on and so shiveringly sexy. I don’t want to take him out of my mouth, don’t want to stop sucking, so I try to tell him with my eyes. Keep going. Keep talking. Where the hell is that mind-reading power gone when I need it?

“You want me to say it, don’t you?”

I can barely breathe, let alone manage a sound, but he gets it.

He gives my hair a sharp tug. “You’re such a slut for my cock, aren’t you?”

Fuck.

I scramble for my dick. All those thoughts about making him come first? Gone. I need to touch myself, and I need to do it now.

It’s pure relief when I wrap my hand around myself and jack off. My hand is dry, and the precum helps, but there’s no way in hell I’m freeing Bilson’s cock to add some spit, so I deal.

His salty taste hits my tongue, making me groan and double down my efforts on him. I’m taking him deeper now, still not as deep as I want, but those tiny thrusts have gotten faster, harder, less controlled.

“Love seeing my cock in your mouth. You belong on your knees for me.” He’s panting. “Shit, Rook. I’m so close. So, so close. Gonna be a good little slut and take my cum?”

I fucking whimper. Tremble. Too turned on to think through the question or even care at this point. I can’t fill my throat with his dick, so I’ll do it with his cum instead. If the choice is between stopping or keeping him in my mouth for longer, I’ll take whichever option lets me keep going.

Bilson lets out a loud curse, and before I’m ready, his cum hits the back of my throat. I hurry to try and swallow as much as I can, but he seems to be coming forever until he finally relaxes his hold, body going boneless.

I stand and spit a mixture of spit and cum into my hand, finally giving me the smooth glide I need. With one hand planted on his thigh, I beat myself off hard and fast, gaze pinging between his softening cock and those deep abs. His round pecs, the light chest hair. My jaw aches, a pleasant reminder of what happened, and I’m tipping so close to the edge I know this is going to be a good one.

I’m close.

So close.

My hold on him tightens.

“Come on me.”

The request is so sudden and unexpected it sets me off. Ropes of cum paint him from his chest to his cock, and I ride my way through my orgasm, mesmerized by the sight.

It takes way too long for me to come down from it, and I slump forward, completely boneless, trying to catch myself. As the high ebbs and I check back in, I realize I’m lying on him. Legs twisted, skin against skin, dicks practically kissing.

I quickly roll off onto the bed.

Bilson’s head drops my way as he takes a second to check me out. “You look fucking wrecked.”

Then he breaks down into laughter, and I follow him.

Tension officially broken.