Page 1

"We're here, baby."

Draper's deep, rich voice stirs me back to life. I blink my eyes open, adjusting to the late afternoon light.

"Can't believe I fell asleep," I say, blushing as I take in the impressive lake house we've pulled up at with its glass-paneled walls and dark wood accents blending perfectly into the natural surroundings. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Draper cuts the engine, rests his forearm over the steering wheel and smiles that heart-melting smile of his. "You looked so damn cute I didn't want to."

The heat in my cheeks intensifies. It's not that I don't believe it when Draper compliments me on my appearance, it's just that it brings a lifetime of my own insecurities to the surface.

If we were in high school, Draper Fassmacher would be the hot, popular jock that everyone worships and clamors to have come to their parties, while I'd be the chubby musical theater nerd who divides his free time between debate team and the science olympiad.

But we're not in high school, and in this current reality, Draper Fassmacher is a super hot and super successful twenty-nine-year-old leading defenseman in the NHL with one hundred and thirty-one blocked shots last season, while I'm a twenty-four-year-old, still chubby, still musical-theater-loving nerd who grew up to be a special education teacher who divides his free time between grading papers, lesson planning, and catching up on educational reading.

I still have to pinch myself that I'm dating an athlete. And not just any athlete. One of the first openly out ice hockey players in the National Hockey League.

We met when he and a few of his teammates from the Thunderhawks paid a visit to Bright Horizons, the school I work at.

Was it love at first sight?

I'd say no, only because I'm super guarded and have experienced a ton of body shaming that makes me extremely wary of guys' intentions. Chubby chasers are a thing. Believe me, I know. As are guys who like to lead you on before blocking or ghosting you. Welcome to the joys of dating as a plus-sized person.

Draper was charming, funny, and sweet from the get-go, and he seemed sincere when he asked me for my number. I gave it to him and honestly never expected to hear from him again. He texted that night, called the next day, and we've been video chatting every day and in a long-distance relationship ever since.

I've flown out to two of his games, but I have to say, I'm glad the season is over, even if I am bummed for him that the Thunderhawks didn't make it to the playoffs this year. With my school holidays and only a few short training camps scheduled for Draper over the summer, he and I finally get to spend some proper quality time together.

Draper looks around. "No sign of Jax's car," he says before swinging his crystal-blue eyes back to me, one eyebrow arching suggestively.

I chuckle. "Don't tell me you're horny again. We had sex this morning."

"Exactly. That was hours ago."

"I'm starting to think you have a sex addiction."

"Nuh-uh, baby." He swipes his hand along my jaw, and my heart floats like a balloon in my chest. "The only thing I'm addicted to is you."

I try my best to drown out the nagging whispers telling me I'm fat and unlovable and really make an effort to believe him.

I've gotten to know Draper well over these past eight months. He's not the typical athlete bro who fucks different dudes in every city he visits. He video calls me every night, and we talk for hours about everything and nothing. He's been open and honest with me about his love life. He's done being chased by puck bunnies. He's over casual sex. He's almost thirty, and he wants to settle down. I may be a few years younger, but I want the same thing, too. Despite convincing myself it was out of reach for a guy like me.

We get out of the car, collect our luggage from the trunk, and make our way toward the house. "So, this is just one of Jax's family's family homes, and they're not using it this year for the Fourth?"

"Correct," Draper says, dropping the bags on the porch and taking out the set of keys Jax must have given him at their training camp last week. "His family is crazy rich."

"Remind me how again."

"His mom's great, great, great, great…I don't know how many greats, but you get the point…grandfather invented cardboard. Or cardboard boxes. Or packing tape. I forget what exactly, but it was something to do with moving."

"So, it'll just be the three of us?"

"Yeah, baby. Just the three of us."

I smile, relieved. "Good."

Draper is one of the biggest names in sports, but we've managed to keep our relationship hidden from the press. The only person who knows about us is his best friend and teammate, Jax Anderson.

I've met him a couple of times, and he's great. Loud, long-haired, and with mischievous pastel-green eyes, he's everything you'd expect a hotshot pro hockey player to be like. But underneath the big personality, he's a nice guy. He and Draper have been friends since childhood, and when Draper's family situation took a nosedive in high school, Jax's mother took him in. They're basically like brothers. They have a deep connection that they hide beneath a barrage of banter and playful insults. I love hanging out with them. It's super fun.

Jax offered to let us have the place alone, but I know Draper wants to have some down time with his bestie, and it honestly doesn't bother me. I mean, spending the Fourth of July with two awesome NHL players at a beautiful lake house isn't exactly torture, right?

As soon as we step inside, Draper closes the door firmly behind us and is up in my space, his hands roaming over my waist. My breath hitches as I adjust to the smooth yet powerful command of his touch, battling as always with the self-conscious demons that are slowly, slowly starting to fade away the longer we're together.

He's just so freaking handsome. His deep blue eyes pierce into me, framed by unruly dark hair that falls across his forehead. The bold shape of his nose and his full, slightly parted lips give his face a rugged elegance. And his body? Don't even get me started on his body.

It's no wonder I have doubts about what a guy like him would see in a thickset, pale, ginger guy like me. He could have anyone he wants, and for some reason, he's chosen me.

He tips my chin up and brings his lips to mine. Draper has got slow, sensual kissing down to an art form, and I love melting into him. My hands latch onto his powerful shoulders before heading south. With Draper being six two and two hundred thirty pounds, I'm met with a wall of thick, sturdy muscles underneath his white T-shirt.

When I reach beneath the belt buckle of his jeans, I grin. "You're already hard."

He pulls back slightly and cradles my face. "Can you blame me? I have you all to myself."

I glance around the living room. "You sure Jax isn't here?"

"He's meant to be arriving later. His car wasn't out front." He pulls away and yells out into the empty house, "Jax! You here, man?"

There's no response. I cup Draper's meaty bulge through the denim. "Looks like we're alone then."

"Good. Now let's get naked."

"Uh… You go first."

"Okay." He backs away and unbuckles his belt. He takes his jeans off first then his shirt. His chest is broad and muscular, a testament to his years on the ice. A faint scar just below his collarbone hints at the physical toll of the sport he loves and is obsessed with. He takes off his briefs then finally his socks, standing completely naked in front of me.

"Your turn, baby. May I?" He steps in and kisses my forehead. I nod my response, turning away. He grips my chin and brings my eyes to meet his. "Are you sure?"

I nod again, this time meeting his stare. I've shared my body insecurities with him, and he's been great about it, letting me talk and get my feelings out, respecting what I say and feel while gently letting me know that what he sees is different. That he sees a beautiful guy that he's super attracted to.

He undresses me slowly, kissing and licking and nibbling on every new piece of flesh he exposes like he's uncovering something sacred. His rock-hard cock is dripping pre-cum, so I know he's into me. I know he means it when he says I'm sexy or calls me hot. The work is for me to feel worthy of it.

He gets me naked and runs his huge hands over the curve of my meaty ass, spreading my cheeks until his thumb grazes my taint. My knees buckle, and he grins. "How would you like to do this?"

"On the couch?" I suggest.

He flashes a smile. "I'll go get lube. You make yourself comfortable however you like."

I walk over to the couch and mount it, holding on to the back for support and sticking my butt out in the air. Draper loves it when he's on top, fucking into me, but there's so much…jiggling in that position. He says he loves the movement, loves watching as my tits and belly bounce around. But it's daylight, and I'd feel way too exposed like that. This way, I can hug the couch and minimize the shaking.

He returns and presses a wet finger into me, then another, and finally a third. We fucked this morning so I'm looser than normal. Before doing anything else, he comes around the couch, lowers so we're at the same eye level, and whispers, "You're the most beautiful guy I've ever met. You make me so happy, baby."

"You make me happy, too." I wiggle my big ass around. "Now hurry up and take what's yours."

His blue eyes gleam. "Don't have to tell me twice."

He gets back into position behind me, grips my waist firmly, and pushes his cock into me with one sturdy thrust. I've only ever slept with two guys, but believe me when I say nothing prepared me for how hung Draper is. His cock isn't just long, it's thick and girthy, and as he takes a tighter hold on my hips and begins pumping in and out of me, I drop my head back and arch my lower back, meeting each of his powerful thrusts.

"Oh, yeah. That feels so good, Draper."

He twists his thick fingers into my curly ginger mane. "Say my name again."

He loves it when I call out his name during sex. "Fuck, yeah, Draper. Give it to me."

"That's so sexy," he growls, pistoning his hips. "Tell me what you want, baby."

"You," I moan, lowering myself into a more comfortable position, my arms dangling over the back of the couch. "I want you."

"You got it, sexy. One serving of Draper Fassmacher coming right up."

He fucks into me relentlessly, savagely, like we're two horned-up primates lost in an all-consuming heat. The sound of his heavy balls slapping loudly against my ass echoes around the living room as he obliterates my hole with his massive cock. I'll be feeling this tomorrow, that's for sure. I always do. And I always love it.

"Oh, yeah. That's it. That's the spot," I cry out, my voice raspy and needy, but I don't care. I feel safe to be my truest self with him. "Right there. Right there, Draper."

"Come for me," he grunts, and I reach down my body and fist my cock. After a few rough strokes, I match his rhythm, rubbing the sensitive underside of my crown as his dick collides with my prostate.

"I'm close," I say, peering over my shoulder, and Jesus, the sight of Draper's muscled, sweaty body rutting into me makes me come undone.

His blue eyes crinkle at the edges as he says, "Clamp your hole down on my dick as you come. Hard as you can, baby. Choke that shit."

That's it. I'm gone. Sparks of yellow and muted orange fill my vision as pleasure explodes from my core, shooting out in every direction, up, down, and around my body from the top of my head all the way down to the tips of my curled toes.

I take a moment, breathing deeply to recover from my orgasm as Draper smooths his palms in circles along my back. I turn to tell him I want his load inside of me, but instead of his intense gaze, I'm met with two light-green eyes.

I scream.

Draper jolts, still inside me, and the movement sends another circuit of pleasure buzzing throughout my body, making me come again.

"Jax!" Draper cries, scrambling to cover me with his body to protect what little is left of my modesty. "I didn't think you were here."

"I was taking a walk by the lake." I can just make out Jax's face from beneath Draper's chest, heaving over me. Jax sees me in the small opening, flicks his long blond hair over his shoulder, and waves. "Hey, Cloyce. It's good to see you again."