Page 37

Leo

The plane back to New York is jubilant after our second win in a row. Since the game was early, we’re flying out tonight and due home a little after midnight.

Mr. Dimon steps on the plane. “Well done, gentlemen. It’s exciting to watch another brilliant season. I had the plane stocked with champagne and beer. Coach has given you tomorrow morning off.”

Ari high-fives the players as he walks down the aisle. A stark difference to Montreal’s GM, who only interacts with the players if absolutely necessary. He gives me a chin nod, and I return it. I have a row to myself, but I miss Caleb’s body next to mine.

He’s turning the clock back almost as if I have a second chance at my youth. I had so much pressure and responsibility; I never enjoyed life or took risks. Sex had been a means to an end, but with Caleb, it’s an expression of our love. I can’t get enough.

We’re sneaking around to slake an ever-growing need. He even found a supply closet to suck my cum from me before the Nashville game.

Caleb played incredible again. Any doubts about his ability to lead the team after Liska are gone.

Mason scored a goal, and they did the after-game press conference together.

The two of them can charm the media and make great television.

It’s remarkable to watch Mason come alive when talking passionately about hockey.

After the seatbelt sign goes off, I move forward to talk to Mason and Caleb. I pause behind their seats so I don’t interrupt.

“Are you coming home or going to the mystery person’s house?” Mason jabs Caleb with his elbow.

“You okay if I go there?” Caleb twists his hands in his lap.

“Yeah.” Mason taps Caleb’s hands. “You haven’t had a panic attack in forever. Not that I’ve seen. Is your new person helping with that?”

Caleb’s shoulders drop. “They’re steady and understand me, so it’s calming. I still have anxiety, but I haven’t had any panic attacks and they definitely help.”

Quickly, I return to my seat because otherwise I would pull Caleb into my arms and try to kiss away any anxiety until he’s boneless and begging for my cock. Helping Caleb control his anxiety is humbling, and my heart flutters as if Caleb gave it wings.

“Let me.” Caleb grips my biceps and sits me on a bar stool.

When I open my mouth to speak, he covers it with his lips.

“Who makes sure I eat enough and brings me protein bars? Who refills my water with their spidey sense, knowing I’m almost out?

Who won’t even fuck me the day before a game?

” He flicks my nose. “You. Now let me do something for you.”

“Fine,” I grumble, but if it makes him happy, I’m happy.

“Relax. Go back to bed or shower.” He glances at me over his shoulder from inside the refrigerator. I like him wearing nothing but my boxers.

“I prefer to be with you.” His ass is perfection.

“Needy, I love it.” He places a carton of eggs on the counter, but it’s almost empty.

“There isn’t much food. I’m expecting a grocery delivery later. Maybe we should order in.” My instinct to make sure he eats enough overrides my desire to watch him cook in my underwear.

“Do you doubt me, Daddy?” He winks.

“Never.” I place my hands on his hips. “What if you let me help so we can go back to bed faster?”

“I like the way you think.” He pushes his ass into my groin. “You’re in charge of mixing.”

It turns out Caleb doesn’t know what he’s doing and slyly consults his phone. But I follow his instructions and pretend not to notice. It’s been years since a lover offered to cook for me, and he’s bouncing with excitement.

Caleb wipes the sweat from his brow with his forearm. “Ready in a few.”

I lick a drop of sweat he missed. “Thank you.” I set plates and silverware on the counter. “Do you want to eat at the island or on the deck?” I joke because although it’s a rare sunny day, it’s cold. The smell of vanilla makes my stomach rumble with anticipation.

“On your lap?” He flashes a grin.

“It can be your reward.” I smack his ass.

We sit on the sofa for the view, but with him in my lap, Caleb is all I can see.

“Delicious.” I eat the forkful he feeds me. “Now it’s your turn.” I sit up, but he pushes me back.

“You eat your fill, and then I’ll eat. You need to keep up your strength to pound my ass before I leave to watch film. Are you coming?” He holds the fork to my lips.

I shake my head as I swallow another bite of French toast. He added brown sugar for sweetness instead of syrup, and I could eat this every day. “I’ve never gone to the practice facility for film days, and it will draw unwanted attention.”

Caleb scowls but moans when I dig my fingers into his hip flexors.

He gets sore there, and I’ve perfected the art of loosening him up.

While I work his muscles, he feeds me. My cock swells as I use the same fork to place bits of French toast on his tongue.

I make him follow the fork, then steal a kiss instead.

“You love to torture me,” he says between tender kisses.

“Mmm, finish your food,” I bark, and he opens his mouth wide. He eats, and I plan how to approach a sensitive topic for him.

“Can we talk about how we’re going to tell Mason?” I set the fork on the plate next to us and tighten my hold on him. He’s about to argue, and I beat him to it. “It would make my presence at the practice rink easier to explain. The three of us could eat together instead of us hiding.”

Caleb drops his forehead to my shoulder. “My options are never or after the season, so what are you thinking?”

“The season has six more months.” I massage his nape. “Mason will be angry.” Caleb huffs and I continue. “But he’ll get over it and understand. He won’t hate you.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I do,” I say. I’m surprised when he climbs off my lap to get his phone from the kitchen counter. “We need to tell him in person.”

“We should do it when there’s a break between games. We can’t mess up his playing.”

I pull him sideways on my lap and attack his mouth, overjoyed he’s finally willing to tell Mason. I promised I wouldn’t push him, but I hate feeling like we’re doing something wrong by hiding it.

“Let’s do it during the All-Star break.” He thumbs through his phone. “It’s a little over a month away. Can you keep your hands off me in public for that long?” He snuggles closer.

“No.” I cup his balls, growing hard. “I’m kidding.” It’s a white lie; I can’t resist him. I’m counting the days until everyone knows he’s mine. “What if one or both of you are chosen?” It’s a real possibility Caleb will be selected for his performance.

“Mason might,” he concedes. “But I won’t. It’s for the entire season, not a single game. I’m not even the starter for our team. They won’t consider me,” he says confidently. “And if Mason is chosen, we’ll find another time.”

“Okay.” I cradle his large body in my arms and stand. “Shower time.”

“The dishes.” His hand reaches toward the mess we made in the kitchen.

“I’ll take care of it once you go. You cooked. But first, we’re making sure you’re nice and clean for me.” I carry him into the bathroom and set him on his feet to start the shower.

“Hmm.” He taps his finger on his jaw. “Clean the kitchen or sex? Hard decision.”

“I haven’t been able to punish you, and it shows.” I rip the boxers to get them off his body.

He braces his hands on the shower door, bending at the waist. “Make me pay, Daddy.”

“You don’t get to demand anything.” I intend to redden his cheeks but not right away.

He sinks to his knees on the cold tile. “Tell me what to do.” He bows his head.

“Good Boy.” I spear my fingers through his hair and press my thigh against his face. “Get in the shower and face the spray, but don’t stand in it.”

Every time Caleb obeys without hesitation, my stomach swoops like a kid on a rollercoaster. It’s a large enough shower, but I crowd against him to keep us out of the water.

“What should I wash first? You’re so dirty,” I coo in his ear, and the hair on the back of his neck stands up.

“I’m dirty,” he agrees.

I maneuver him under the warm spray, lathering up my hands, then wash his underarms. His abs quiver under my touch, and I avoid his hard dick, kneeling to wash his legs and feet. When he lifts each foot, I pummel his arch with the heel of my palm.

“I could come from that alone.” He steadies himself on my shoulder.

“Don’t you dare,” I say as sternly as I can. “Step forward.” I rinse his front, then spin him to face me. “Half clean. Tip your head back.”

After his hair is wet, I step in between him and the water to shampoo his hair. He’s putty in my hands as I massage his scalp.

“Have I told you today that I love you?” he asks.

“I love you with all that I am.” I step back and allow the water to wash the shampoo down the drain. “Do you want conditioner?”

“You spoil me.” He smiles with his eyes closed.

I leave the conditioner in while I order him to put his hands on the side wall and bend at the waist. The water adds to the sound of the satisfying slap.

“Thank you,” he whimpers, spreading his legs and bending deeper.

“You want Daddy to turn your ass red?” I strike again, and it stings my palm.

“Please,” he keens.

“You’re doing so good.” I pepper his ass with a combination of taps and hard blows. “Daddy loves how pretty you look.” His cock leaks precum, and I’m on fire, ready to bury myself in him. “Let me finish washing you, and then you can lie on my bed and show me how much you love my marks on you.”

“Yes, please.” He stands and rinses his hair while I soap up his ass and dick.

“I can’t wait until I have days with you all to myself instead of hours.” I lead him from the shower and dry him.

“What’s that?” he asks when my buzzer rings.

“Probably the food delivery.” I shrug into my bathrobe and check my phone. Strange, there’s no alert. “Get in bed, and I’ll be in after I put the groceries away.” I peck his pump lips and answer the buzzer, but no one’s there.

I wait another minute, and as I turn toward the bedroom to claim Caleb again, there’s a knock on my door. Instead of a delivery person, Mason strides past me into the apartment.

“Hey, Dad. Got a minute?” Mason eyes my bathrobe, the state of the kitchen, and sees two plates in the living room with two glasses of water.

“Actually, there’s something—”

“There’s someone here.” He smiles and backs toward the door.

I’m torn between stopping him and telling him the truth, and letting him leave without an explanation.

“Leo, is this for me?” Caleb comes into view, holding the towel around his waist with one hand and twirling a purple jock strap around his finger. He yelps and, in his haste to run, he lets go of the towel so Mason sees my handprints on his ass.

“What. The. Fuck!” Mason explodes.