Page 126 of Heartbreak Hockey

“He will be. I’ll make sure of it.”

* * *

On the outside I’m strong for him, but on the inside I’m fumbling. The smile I worked hard to paint on his face with music has been replaced with utter heartbreak and it’s killing me. I’ve never wanted to fix a problem more than I do right now.

You’d better believe I have a million ideas of what to do about this, my mind spinning like a hamster running on a wheel. I might not be Rhett with his money bin, but I still have few friends left in this industry. They’re not contacts I’d call for just any reason, but for Jack, I’d call them right now.

Will he let me though? No. Not being able to do anything to correct this fucking injustice is driving me up the wall. If anyone deserves to play with the pros, it’s Jack. All I can do is clench my fists and storm around like a caged animal.

At least my carnal behavior gets me an adoring ogle from Jack. “Okay, Cujo. Settle down. Gotta say, I love that you’re ready to maim for me, but I’ll be fine,” he promises.

“I know you’ll be fine eventually. That’s not the point, Jack. This is so wrong.” Now I’m arguing about fairness, which I know doesn’t exist, but it’s all I’ve got.

We just walked into my condo. I’ve just shut the door behind us and have turned on the light in the entryway, which is just off the open-style kitchen. He takes off his hat and sets it down by the key bowl on the counter.

Gripping his leather jacket by the edges, I peel it off him from behind and hang it on the hook. Then I spin him around to kiss him, just because I can. “Okay, pants off, Leslie.”

“Wondered if you were just gonna get right down to it or if there’d be any spanking foreplay.” He winks, popping the button at the waistband. He’s trying to be his usual Jack self, but the shine is missing.

“I have a list in my head,” I tell him, removing my jacket and hanging it on top of his. “Spank then fuck then cuddle.”

“I’m down with that list,” he says, shucking his jeans off and hanging them over the couch. His t-shirt falls over his ass. I can’t help taking a moment to admire his heavily muscled thighs. With all his workouts, proper nutrition, and hockey, they’ve grown.

Stop it, Meyer. Sex is second on the list.

And yet, I’ve gotta kiss him again. I slide a hand up the back of his skull and cinch him by the roots, pulling his lips to me, tasting the faint hit of beer mixed with the unique taste of Jack. He’s mine and I’m a lucky son of a bitch. I kiss him until we’re both breathless and gasping for air.

“Wanna move sex up on your list, Merc? I’m horny now and thinkin’ sex might be my true cure-all.”

“Not a fucking chance, baby. Get your fine ass to my bedroom.”

“Your dick is magical, Mr. Meyer. Just sayin’.”

“Move.”

“All right, all right. I’m going.”

As soon as we’re in the bedroom, I decide he’s wearing too many clothes and remove his shirt. I’m gonna do this with him naked and me clothed. Spanking is about vulnerability. It’s breaking down in a physical way, forcing emotions to the surface where they can burn off into the ether.

“Don’t let me off too easy,” he says. “I wanna fight, Merc.”

I get that. A guy like Jack is physical. Kinesthetic. Talking out emotions isn’t enough, which is why hockey isn’t just something he loves, it’s vital for him to have that kind of physical release in his life. Thankfully for Jack, when he can’t play hockey or pound out a lifting session at the gym, he’s got spanking.

I run my fingers over the sculpted crevices of his torso. “Wasn’t planning on it, trouble. I know what you can take.”

He nods. “I trust you.”

“I’m still checking in and I trustyouto answer me honestly, Leslie.” We’ve been slowly getting a flow in the spanking arena. I’m confident that I’ve gotten to know that side of him, but I still have more to learn. It’s a fine line to tread and vastly different from anything kink-related because it doesn’t work the same. It needs to feel real. It needs to be real. Anything less and it doesn’t work. That’s why it’s more important to slowly work on trust and get to know a person’s threshold.

“‘Course, I will, Merc. I’m no rookie.”

“C’mere, wise guy.”

Sitting down on the bed, I tug him between my legs and reach for a pillow. Before I put him over my knee, I trace over the bulge in the front of his black cotton boxers. This will probably go away while I spank him.

If I let it.

I come up with a little plan. I want him to ache in all ways so that his mind can be taken far far away.