Page 61 of Heartbreak Hockey

He spins me around and lifts me enough that I get the idea of where he wants me and with a little help from me, my bare ass is placed on the counter. Aaaaaah, that’s nice and cool. I can’t wait to check my ass out and see how red it is.

His mouth devours mine with the same assertiveness he has on the ice, telling us what to do day in and out. His confidence is so fucking sexy. I kiss him right back, resting my arms over his shoulders. My softening dick’s still hanging out, dripping cum on his countertops.

And I’m … I’m just content. I have a new idea.

“I can hear your gears turning,” he says against my lips.

“Well, it’s just, I like this. Whatever this is, but I can’t … I don’t wanna …” I can’t find the words and rest my forehead against his instead of saying anything else. My chest is aching now, ruining my contentment vibe. Why can’t the bad feelings just disappear so I can enjoy this? Why can’t I just trust him?

I realize I’ve closed my eyes when I open them. Everything about Mercy relaxes me. I can’t lose him, I don’t want to fuck with his emotions, but this might be all I have to give.

He runs a hand through my hair. “What’s the big idea you’ve got rolling around in there, eh?”

I hop off the counter, forcing him to back up and then I reach for my pants.

He lets me, analyzing me. Does he see the absolute terror? What a stupid thing to be afraid of. Once my jeans are done up—and his too—he grabs for my wrist.

“I get it, Jack. More than I can tell you. An arrangement like this isn’t different from anything I’ve had before. I can deal with that.”

“Really?” My chest bubbles with excitement

Mercy growls and yanks me to him. “I knew you were important, Jack, from the moment I saw you sitting at the bar. We’ll do things in our own time.” His fingers brush over my face and move the hair—that probably looks as sex-drunk as I feel—from my brow. “Where do you think you’re going, by the way?”

“Nowhere…?”

“Nowhere.”

And so, we stand, doing our lost in each other’s eyes thing we do, dazed, until one of us breaks it.

Him this time.

“Get your ass on my couch,” he says, spanking my ass.

“Can’t resist, can you?”

“Nope. You want another Heineken Zero?” he asks with mischief in his eyes.

“Blech. No way.” He tricked me with one of those last time I was here, offering me a beer only to hand me that nonsense. “Give me whatever it was you were drinking last time—tasted fucking good on your lips.”

I settle in on his soft sofa, realizing I haven’t looked around any of the times I’ve been here since we usually get right to fucking. It’s filled with pictures of people who I guess are his family. There’s a strong Meyer thread throughout. They all have the same eyes. I’m up again, openly snooping while he fusses in the kitchen.

“This your dad?” I hold up the picture for him to see which one I mean.

“Yeah.”

“He’s hot.”

“No hitting on my dad or I’ll spank you for real.”

“I wouldn’t do that. Probably.”

He narrows his eyes. “Leslie.”

I laugh and set the photo down, trying to remember the last time I printed off a photo. Mercy is so old even though he’s not that old. My gaze lands on something that’s tucked inside the corner of a photo. “This the new one?”

It’s an ultrasound photo. Not a picture of it either, the actual photo. Theo mentioned another Meyer on the way.

He sets the drinks and snacks down on the glass coffee table, glaring at me. “Get away from there. Put that back.”