Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rylan

H ow does one proposition a guy for consistent good-luck sex for the rest of the hockey season? It’s all I’ve been thinking about since last night. It’s January, and the regular season goes until April. Then the playoffs. We’ll win the cup at the end of June, so six months of his life for really great sex isn’t too much to ask for, is it? Especially when I know he enjoys it so much. I wouldn’t consider it if I didn’t think Hayes got something out of it—even more than just an amazing orgasm. After what went down with The Prick—my new name for his ex—I think he has something to prove, maybe even just to himself, and something about what we’re doing helps with that. Hayes has basically said so himself.

I texted him this morning, and he’s going to come over this evening when he gets off work. We leave tomorrow for a few away games, so the timing is perfect if this is something he’s interested in.

Hayes…intrigues me. He caught my attention the first night we met, but my fascination with him has only grown. Every time I think about what he went through, my whole body burns with anger. I made the mistake of googling the Jilted Exes’ Club this morning, and…why do people enjoy so much making others suffer? Why do they spend their days speculating about other people’s pain? Why is it so easy to jump on a bandwagon without giving any consideration for the people on the other end of it? And don’t get me started on the number of people who blamed Hayes and the others, who said they must be dumb or didn’t want to see the truth, even accusing them of setting this whole thing up as some ploy to go internet famous. I just can’t wrap my head around it.

“People suck,” I tell Puck, who’s sitting on the back of the couch like it’s his throne.

He peeks at me, his expression saying, Look in the mirror, bro.

“I don’t suck,” I tell my cat as if he really spoke to me.

My phone rings, and I plop down beside Puck and smile before answering. “Hey, Ma.”

“How are your ribs? I saw the hit you took when you slammed Burgess into the boards in the third last night.”

I can’t help smiling. This woman has done everything in her power to support me my whole life. She and my dad both have—and when I say dad, I mean my chosen father and not the one I share my DNA with. There were times when they were both working two jobs to make ends meet, to help me get into hockey camps and participate on league teams. I wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for them.

“They’re fine. I took an ice bath last night and have been icing them off and on today.”

“Did the trainer look you over?”

“Are you kidding? He knows if he didn’t, he would have to deal with you.”

“That’s what I like to hear. You were on fire.”

I grin, my mind filling with thoughts of the game mixed up with how Hayes lost it when he was going at my mouth.

“You’re smiling, aren’t you?”

A chuckle slips past my lips. “You know me too well.”

“Oh, your dad wants to say hi. I’m going to put it on speaker.”

“You still flying high after last night? You were like lightning on those skates,” Dad says with pride.

“You have no idea.” I always loved hockey. I can’t imagine what I would be doing with my life if I didn’t have it, but I really fucking love it on nights like last night…and I also wish Hayes had been watching. Did he look up highlights afterward? Did it impress him? Was he—

“Ry?”

“Hmm?” I ask, realizing I was obsessing about Hayes and missed what Mom said.

“Dad and I were thinking about coming out there. The cold has been more difficult on him this year and—”

“Yes. Absolutely. I want you out here permanently.” It’s a discussion we’ve had more than once. After everything they did for me, I want to be able to give them everything they need. They’ve stuck to their guns about staying in New Hampshire because that’s always been home. That’s where they were both born and raised. They’re also both fiercely independent. It was already hard for them to accept the house I bought them, and with Dad’s diagnosis, I know he doesn’t want to feel like he has to move or has to do anything really. He wants it on his terms, and while I get that, I also just miss them.

“I know you do,” Mom says in that soft mom voice, the one that warms your insides.

“So what’d you do differently last night?” Dad asks, bringing the subject back to hockey. He knew nothing about the game before I decided I wanted to play, but now both of them are hockey experts. They care about every aspect of my game, but I highly doubt they want to hear that I blew this hot, nerdy guy and he’s my secret weapon.

“He worked hard. That’s what he did,” Mom says.

“He always works hard,” Dad concurs, and damn, do I feel their pride in me through the line.

We chat for a few more minutes before ending the call. I’m stoked to have them out here for the next few months at least, and make a quick call to the cleaners to set up an appointment to get the small house I purchased here for them freshened up before they arrive next week.

Hayes will be here soon, so I take a shower and throw on a pair of exercise shorts, no shirt. There’s a strange buzzing beneath my skin I can’t quite tell the reason for, so I do my best to ignore it.

He’ll show up, I’ll ask him if he wants to continue hooking up with me, and then the cards will be in his hand.

I instantly perk up when my doorbell rings. A ridiculous smile climbs onto my face as I head over and open the door. Hayes is wearing a pair of jeans, a light-blue polo, and despite having just done the same thing myself, I say, “Your hair is wet. You went home to shower and change before you came over. You want to—umpf,” I grunt when he throws himself at me, making pain pulse through my bruised torso.

It’s immediately forgotten when Hayes’s lips crash down on mine. I wrap my arms around his waist, kicking the door closed while we devour each other’s mouths, hands urgent and needy all over each other’s bodies.

I really, really want to tease him for how hungry he is for me, but I’m afraid to stop, don’t want to do anything to make him think this feeling isn’t completely reciprocated.

We kiss and stumble toward the couch. One of my hands slides down to his ass, the other on the back of his neck, until our feet get tangled and we nearly fall.

“Sorry,” Hayes says before his lips are pulled to mine again like a magnet.

I tumble onto the couch, Hayes dropping down on top of me. Blood rushes to my groin, dick throbbing and growing harder by the second. Hayes straddles my lap, pushing me back against the couch as he ruts against me, and damn, he’s just as hard for me as I am for him.

The kissing makes me dizzy, his mint-flavored tongue making a home in my mouth while my fingers go to the button and zipper on his jeans. I linger there for a moment, and he pushes up onto his knees like he’s trying to make it easier for me to tug his clothes down.

I swallow every needy sound he makes while I open his pants and pull them and his underwear down mid-thigh again.

“You need me to make you come, cutie? You been thinking about my hands on you all day?”

“Shut up,” he says, leaning in and trying to kiss me again, but I turn my head.

“Still want me to shut up if I’m going to tell you I’ve been doing the same?”

“Um…shit. Maybe tell me after?”

If I’d said that, it would’ve been playfully, but Hayes is serious, and damn if that doesn’t make me feel strangely happy. I laugh, soaking up the enjoyment I get out of him, and pull him back on top of me. “Deal.”

He pushes up again, putting enough space between us to tug my shorts down. “You’re not even wearing underwear!”

“I was hopeful,” I reply, though really, I wasn’t planning this. I thought we’d have an actual conversation before he mauled me like an adorable sex-drunk monster. “Are you complaining?”

“No.”

“Good. Now let me get you off.” I spit in my hand before wrapping it around both our shafts.

He shudders, thrusting so his hot, hard dick rubs against mine.

“Yes. Just like that,” I tell him, and he drops on top of me, torso to torso, making it harder for me to jerk us off, but I’m not sure we even need the hand. “Give me that mouth.”

“God, you’re annoying.” But he does it, kissing me while rutting against me. I grab his ass, knead his cheeks, let my finger slip between them to tease his hole. I don’t push it in, Hayes whimpering into my mouth while he speeds up his ministrations. One of his hands tightens in my hair, making my scalp burn but urging me on more. He’s so fucking hungry for it, like he’s spent all his life caged up, and in these moments with me, he sets himself free.

I tap his hole, feel his heavy balls against mine, our bodies pushing together, cocks rubbing harder, more urgently. I’m oversensitive, flying just from the feel of his quick, needy movements. My balls are aching, orgasm gaining strength like a storm hitting perfect conditions on the ocean.

A sharp pain pierces my lip, Hayes’s body tensing above mine as the hot splash of his cum hits my stomach. It’s enough to make my balls draw up, cock spasming with his as we both spurt into the space between us, our jizz mixing while Hayes keeps thrusting through our orgasm.

He flops down on top of me. His shirt must be getting messy between us, but I don’t think he’s considered that yet.

“That was fun,” I say, smiling.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe I did that.” Hayes buries his face in my neck.