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When he releases me from his mouth with a loud pop, I’m nothing more than a limp noodle— literally and figuratively. He peers up at me with glazed, lust-drunk eyes, and his lips are shiny and swollen. A few pearly drops of my come cling to the corner of his mouth, and he swipes at it with his thumb before licking it clean.

The sight makes me whimper.How can he make something so filthy look so dang hot?

He hums giddily, a blissed-out grin spreading across his face. “You taste amazing, Gerard. I could happily live on just your come for the rest of my life.”

A breathless, slightly delirious laugh bubbles up from my chest. “I’m pretty sure that’s not advisable from a nutritional standpoint, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

I haul Elliot onto the couch using the last bit of strength left in me and kiss him hard. I can taste myself on him. It’s salty and slightly bitter but also oddly erotic.

When we finally break apart for air, Elliot burieshis face in the crook of my neck and nuzzles my sweaty skin. “That was incredible. Watching you fall apart like that, knowing it was because of me…it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I wrap my arms around him, holding him close as I kiss the top of his head. “You’re the incredible one, Elliot. That was…gosh, I don’t even have words. Just…gosh.”

ICE QUEEN BLOG POST #8

Mmm, Whatcha Say?

Hey there, puck bunnies! Ice Queen here, your go-to gal for the coolest takes on all things Barracudas.

Thanksgiving started when the pilgrims and Indians sat down for dinner. Since then, it has grown into a day of things to be thankful for—friends, family, and a parade full of giant balloons and one-of-a-kind floats. It’s also a day when everyone comes together to share joy and good health.

So, what am I thankful for? I’m thankful for all of you, my fans and followers. I couldn’t keep doing what I do if it wasn’t for all of your love and enthusiasm. I appreciate all your comments, good and bad, and the photos you send me of Gerard and his team of hockey jocks.

But this year, there’s one thing I’mnotthankful for. Gerard fucking Gunnarson.

That’s right. He and I have entered a frosty era, and I’m not above shoving an icicle up his giant ass. Okay, that might be a tadoverdramatic, but you’d react the same way if you got an email full of thinly veiled threats.

The golden-haired boy himself wrote that if I don’t back off from writing about his boyfriend, he’ll make sure I havenothingto write about. Apparently, revealing the identity of his boyfriend crossed a line. Well, excuse me for giving the people what they want.

While consent is key, and I would never go against his wishes, that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it. I mean, what am I supposed to do now? Find another hockey hunk to obsess over? I guess I could set my sights on Drew Larney and his burgeoning, bromantic friendship with Jackson Monroe. It could be interesting to dig into. Or what about that freshman phenom, Nathan Paisley? The kid is already making waves with his bright pink hair and sick blocks on the ice. He’s sure to have a legion of fans in no time.

But no one can replace Gerard. He’s the king of the ice, the prince of the puck, the sultan of skating. Without him, what’s even the point? So, here’s hoping he gets over himself and realizes that the Ice Queen always wins.

Until next time.

Ice Queen skating off!

30

ELLIOT

Afinger pokes my face, but I don’t open my eyes. I’m nestled under a pile of blankets, enjoying the warmth it provides from the frigid Colorado air seeping in through the open window.

It’s the one thing about Gerard that I still don’t like—sleeping with a window open. Okay, I also don’t like how messy he is or that he farts so damn much. But beggars can’t be choosers, right? No guy is perfect, not even Mr. Hockey Hunk himself.

I get poked again, this time harder. “Hey, Elliot?”

“What, Gerard?”

“Are you awake?”

“No.”

Another poke. “Can I suck you off?”

My eyes fly open. Gerard stares at me with a big grin on his face. “Did I hear you correctly? You want to…suck me off?”

Gerard nods eagerly. My eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why?”