Page 30

I fucking loved it. And him. But I damn sure kept that tidbit to myself because there was no way in hell I was going to tell Ellie that I loved him in the middle of eating his ass. Maybe I didn’t know a lot about falling in love, but I sure as shit knew now wasn’t the time for declarations.

Over and over, my tongue pushed itself into his tight hole, sending shivers through Ellie. He shook like a leaf in the wind, but because he was a good boy, he sucked on his pacifier like he’d been told to do and gave himself over to the riot of sensations I knew coursed through his veins.

“Baby boy, I’m gonna let you talk, but all you can say is ‘Yes, Daddy’ or ‘No, Daddy.’ Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Such a good boy.” I nibbled around his now-softened hole before I continued, “You’re going to the game tonight because I want you there. Agreed?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I pushed my tongue into his hole because I was addicted to his musky, earthy taste. “No one is more important to me than you, understood?” I needed him to know that in his soul.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Is anyone allowed to question what you like?”

“No, Daddy.”

“Is there any shame in liking what you like so long as everyone consents and it’s safe?” I loved taking care of him, and fuck anyone who had a problem with it.

“No, Daddy.”

“Do you know how proud Daddy is of you and how sweet and kind and goddamn sexy you are?”

“Y-y-y-e-e-s, Daddy.” Ellie’s panted replies were breathy and seemed caught in his throat.

His poor cock was flushed a dark, angry pink while he struggled to maintain his composure.

The firm grip I kept at the base certainly helped, but I knew he was struggling to control himself, and he did it because I’d asked him to.

The power of that humbled me because it was a goddamn gift.

Ellie’s whimpers filled the room, and I knew his control hung by a thread. The part of me that wanted him to find relief was at war with the very real part of me that wanted to have a never-ending supply of his desperation.

“Should I let you come, baby boy?”

“Yeeeeeeees, Daddy.” I released the makeshift ring I’d created at the base of his cock.

With one hand firmly wrapped around his shaft, I buried my face in his ass.

I ate and stroked until Ellie wailed, and then I repeated the process again and again.

When Ellie’s release was upon him, he arched his back until I thought he’d hurt himself.

The visceral scream wrenched from his throat triggered my own need.

I’d managed to ignore my throbbing cock, but that sound sent me straight to the edge.

I took Ellie’s spurting cockhead into my mouth to capture the salty goodness before it was wasted. When my release barreled through me, I pulled off, tugged my own cock a few times, and my shout echoed around the room. My cum pulsed onto Ellie’s cock and balls.

Fuck me . Nothing had ever felt like this. Nothing.

With a groan, I yanked the pillow from under Ellie’s hips and collapsed on top of him.

His arms yoked my neck and pulled me tight against him.

Our mouths met in a lazy, soft kiss as our tongues sipped and tasted each other.

I knew he could taste himself on me, and it created a connection I wanted to hold on to forever.

“Baby boy, you’re gonna kill me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Ellie responded with a cheeky grin.

“You can talk now, silly boy.”

“I hope not, Daddy. You’ve got one more game to finish.” Ellie lazily traced a pattern on my back. “Will you miss it?”

“I won’t miss the early morning practices or the shitty road food, but I’ll miss the team.”

“When you go to the sheriff’s office, maybe you’ll have the same kind of thing.”

“I hope so because that’d be nice. You got plans for spring break?”

“No, I figured I’d hang out around here. My dad texted me the other day asking if I intended to come home, but he seemed happy when I said no because he’d have to come get me.”

“If you wanted to go see him, we could go out there, or you could borrow my car…”

“It’s fine. He won’t take time off work anyway, so it’s fine. If I visited, I’d just be hanging out by myself anyway.” I heard the hurt in Ellie’s voice, but I didn’t have the first clue on how to bridge that for him.

“In that case, I was thinking about going up to our cabin for at least a few days. Want to go?”

“You really want me to?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t, silly.” I paused to control my voice before answering, “Hopefully, by then, I’ll have an offer.”

“I hope so. Will you live in the cabin when you move up there?”

“Yeah, my parents don’t go up there as much now that I’m older, so they said as long as they have a bed when they visit, they don’t mind me moving in.”

“Oh, that’s nice. And super convenient.”

“Convenient?”

“Having the cabin. Didn’t you say your uncle owns this building?”

I nodded. “Yeah. My grandfather, dad, and uncle’s dad were all about real estate. When he passed, they held on to it. Technically, they both own it, but my uncle does the managing.”

Ellie played with my short hair while we caught our breaths before I had to head to the barn.

I’d been here since I left the dorms after my required first year, and like the cabin, it was just a thing that existed.

I’d never spent much time thinking about how I was lucky to rent from family, but Ellie wasn’t wrong.

In Ellie’s world, it wasn’t a thing at all. And now that the end of the year was coming, the decisions about where to go had to happen sooner rather than later. But at least for today, it could wait until after tonight’s game.

“Can I ask a question?”

“What’s up?”

“Are your parents nice?”

“They are gonna love you so much.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m your Daddy, I play hockey, and I know things.” I ignored his snort because I had manners. “You still sitting with Matty’s brother?”

“Yep. He’s going to meet me there. Matty promised he was a nice guy, so I’m going to believe him.”

It was time to eat some crow. “I might have been wrong about Matty.” Ellie was polite enough not to laugh, but I noticed his lips twitching before he covered his mouth.

“How’s that?”

“Maybe he’s not a fucker?” Ellie’s giggles force me to kiss him again to preserve my ego. “But don’t tell him.”

“I would never!”

We were deep into the second, and my legs were screaming, my muscles burning with that familiar ache that only ever showed up after a dozen too many drops into the butterfly and a few too many crashes into the post. My thighs trembled every time I rose, but there wasn’t time to feel it when their top line circled, hungry for blood.

Every shift felt like it stretched longer, and the tension mounted with every tick of the clock.

The Minnesota kid—number fourteen, I think, but I didn’t even need the number anymore—had already circled twice, mapping for weak spots.

He moved like he was on tracks, no wasted motion, sleek and sharp as a switchblade.

He feinted high, dragged low, pulled the puck across like it was tethered to his heartbeat, and my body reacted before I could think, just a twitch of instinct left, and he was already gone.

I felt anticipation rippling through my muscles, a low hum of adrenaline.

Lightning fast, number fourteen returned at the back door and crashed my crease with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball.

I shoved off hard, dug my blade into the ice, the rasping sound of steel against frozen surface rattling up my spine.

My leg stretched long, a desperate sprawl that nearly tore something in my groin.

My body screamed at me, but I couldn’t afford to listen.

The puck clipped off my pad and bounced off to the corner like it knew it had narrowly avoided glory.

It didn’t matter. Not yet. I didn’t exhale. Not until it was safely out of play.

The arena was a madhouse, an overwhelming mess of screams, pounding music, and the relentless shouts of coaches from behind the glass.

The sound waves crashed against my ears, a static noise that only made sense when filtered through the lens of my concentration.

But in the crease, it was muted. The world narrowed to the motion of the puck and my breathing.

I could see everything. Every flick of a wrist. Every twitch of a shoulder.

I could see plays start two passes before they even happened, how the angles shifted or the tempo rose.

The noise, the chaos, all slipped away. Just me, the game, and the steady rhythm of my heartbeat.

Their next rush came on the tail end of a bad change, and for a second, they got numbers.

Three-on-two, a fast break, and I’d already shifted weight before they crossed the blue line.

The first forward pulled wide, tried to draw the defense, leaving the trailer open.

I felt the tension snap taut in my chest. A quick drop pass, and I knew it was a setup before the blade even slid.

The shot was clean, low, and tight to the blocker side—but I was there.

Paddle down. I deflected it, staying square because I knew they were crashing the net.

I tied up the puck, trapping it in the crease, and froze the play. Another whistle. Another second gone.

The bench shouted their encouragement. I heard my name, a mix of encouragement and command. But I didn’t look. Couldn’t. My focus was pure, locked in on the puck. I refused to let myself think beyond the next save. Not while we were still in it. Not until the final buzzer.