Page 11

Nash

There was something about watching my man on the ice that had me wanting to take him home and give him a good body slam—on the mattress. That was usually the way things went. I went to all his games and afterward I helped him will all the aggression he didn’t release during the game. Although tonight…shit. Porter was full of aggression.

Though I was up in one of the boxes, with drinks and snacks flowing behind me, my attention was glued to the action.

Brisson on the other team had been talking shit the entire game. He and Porter had history from college, and apparently, it was continuing. Porter had already landed in the penalty box twice after getting into it with the guy. Which was something, considering Porter was on the third line, so he didn’t necessarily get as much ice time as other guys in the first and second lines. He didn’t mind not being first or second line, though. He was just thrilled to be pro and that he wasn’t in the minors, which was where he figured he’d start.

Still, everyone knew when his line went in things were gonna get physical.

The crowd roared as he and the winger opposite him shouldered through the other team’s defense, battling toward the net. Everything moved so fast, I’d lost track of the puck, but I knew approximately where it was. I sat forward, tension vibrating through me, as sticks clashed near the goalie and a body from the other team went flying sideways, during the body to body action.

The horn went off, and the Lynx fans surged to their feet, screaming as our team got their third goal of the night. Porter circled his fist in the air, but I yelled, seeing Brisson beelining for him, slamming him into the boards.

“Porter,” I yelled, seeing his helmet go flying, his face smashed to the glass.

“Oh God,” the coach’s wife, Iris, murmured beside me. “This will be bad.

Down below, I saw coaches yelling as gloves were thrown and at least five other players joined the fray while refs tried to break up the brawl.

I couldn’t breathe as they finally peeled Brisson off Porter. Blood covered my man’s face when they got him off the ice and guided toward the locker room.

“Come on,” Iris said, tugging my arm. “Let’s go down. He’s gonna want you.”

Minutes later, security let me through and I rushed to where the team’s doctor was checking Porter. His jersey was off

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he grumbled his words sounding a little garbled from his busted up lip. He’d stripped off his jersey, leaving him in pants and his pads. And there was my name on the bulge of his bicep.

He glanced over at me and I shook my head. “If he messed your pretty face, princess, I’m gonna have to hack in and destroy his credit score.”

The doc working on him just snorted, thinking princess was a joke between us—which, kind of it was, but on the other hand, it was always what I called Porter when I planned to drill him hard.

“His face will be fine,” the doc said. “Nothing broken; no stitches needed. But you should hack in and do it anyway. That attack was bullshit.”

I raised a brow at Porter and he shrugged on of his shoulders—probably because it would hurt too much to do both. He’d been beat up far more tonight than usual. And by that reasoning, I should probably leave him alone tonight. I knew he wouldn’t let me. He’d have too much adrenaline to work off.

“You gotta stay to the end of the game?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“I’m sending him out of here,” the doc said. “I don’t think he’s got a concussion and the idiot refuses to go get scanned, even though he has a contract that clearly states—”

“I know,” Porter interrupted. “Nash knows what to look for. He’ll take me to emergency care. Besides…I’ve had concussions. I knew the signs.”

The doctor finished cleaning him up and checking for injuries while I stood next to the table where Porter sat. Afterward, I waited quietly by the door while Port changed and shoved gear into a bag.

“Ready,” he said.

Shaking my head again, I took the heavy duffel from him, refusing to grunt at the weight. Side by side, we walked out to the care waiting for us. The driver took the duffel with a slight oof that made me feel better, and Porter and I climbed into the backseat.

In the only true sign of how he really felt, he treaded his fingers through mine and leaned his head on my shoulder.

“Brisson’s an asshole,” he muttered.

“I could tell. What did he say.”

“You don’t want to know. Just allusions to my lifestyle.”

One of those. Thankfully, Porter didn’t run into many who were prejudiced against him, but apparently, Brisson was one of those guys .

“Like you said, he’s an asshole. Probably in the closet.”

Porter chuckled, then moaned as something hurt.

“Ice bath or hot tub?” I asked, as the driver pulled into the circle in front of our new house.

“Hot tub. I want you to come in with me.” Angling his head, he kissed along my jaw to my ear. “Naked.”

Fuck, I wanted that. I’d been hard all night while watching him. “You’re sure.”

“I need you.”

I nodded, turning, I kissed him. I poured all my pent up desire into it, letting him know I wanted him just as much, even if I was concerned for his wellbeing. I cupped his cheek, careful of his injuries, then gently pulled back.

“We’re here. Let’s get you taken care of.”

Moments later, we were inside. I dropped his bag on the tile of the entryway, and started stripping off my clothes to catch up with Porter who was already shucking off his pants. Pausing, I drew my knuckles along his side that was covered with bruises that were growing darked as time passed.

“I’m gonna kill him,” I muttered.

Leaning in, Porter pressed his lips quickly to mine. “No, you’re not. This is just a product of my job. Now, come on.”

I finished undressing and followed after him, my cock pointing at exactly what it wanted. He opened the double doors leading to our private patio where the hot tub already bubbled. The autumn chill lifted goose bumps on my skin, but did nothing to cool my need to fuck Porter. And he knew it.

Looking slyly over his shoulder, he bent to open the storage hidden beneath one of the bench seats that circled the tub, purposely angling his ass toward me.

“Lube,” he said, tossing the tube toward me. Then he rested his crossed forearms on the edge of the hot tub, one knee up on the bench. “Hard and deep, sweetheart. Make me yell.”

“With all your bruises, that should be too hard,” I grumbled.

“Stop. I’m fine. You know I need my man in order to wind down.”

I did know it. I needed him, too. Wasting no time, I lubed up my cock then set to work on his asshole to get him ready for me. Within minutes, I was notching my glans to his opening. With a firm push, the head popped inside. I paused, while Porter whined in frustration, trying to shove back to take me deeper. My tight grip held him in place.

“Look at me,” I demanded. “I want to see your face.”

Eyes wild with lust, he peered over his shoulder at me. I help his gaze as I slowly pushed in. “I gotta tell you something.”

“What?” he groaned, he stare turning half-lidded and his mouth dropping open as I bottomed out. “Fu- uck . Fuck , Nash.”

“I love you.”

He gasped, the breath broken with shock and sensation, but I didn’t wait. Holding his hips tight, I pounded into his. My dick sawed over his prostate and in moments, Porter came, spraying over the side of the hot tub.

I didn’t stop. I chased my orgasm, knowing I could make him come again, even if it was only spasms with no spend. Cum boiled in in balls and the fiery sensation of my release surged down my spine, fisting there, knotting before exploding lava through my veins. Wave after wave hit me as I filled Porter’s ass giving him exactly what he’d asked for.

I collapsed over him, bracing myself with one arm so I didn’t give him my full weight. We panted together, his face on his forearms and my forehead planted between his shoulder blades, his heart beating so heard I could feel it against my cheek while we heaved for breath.

“Asshole,” he muttered finally.

I chuckled, shifting my hips and reminding him where my semi-hard dick was still lodged. “Exactly where you wanted.”

“Not what I mean, dick.” He flexed on me, making me groan. Every sensation was too much. “No nice dinner. No candle light. Just an I love you before you fuck me bareback in the backyard?”

“You know I’m a romantic,” I teased.

He sniffed an annoyed laugh. “Well, I love you, too. I guess.”

“You should probably make up your mind,” I said, pulling free of him and pressing kisses down his spine. I nipped his ass cheek. “I plan to marry you next year. You should know how you feel by then. You know…as part of the deal.”

Leaving him, I went to get a cloth, a bit surprised he didn’t say a word. When I turned back, he was staring at me.

“Did you just propose?” he squeaked.

I lifted a shoulder. “What do you think?”

“I think you just proposed,” he gasped.

“Maybe, I just want to see my fucking hot man in a tux again.”

He shook his head and a slow smile bloomed across his face. “I love you, too, Nash. You’re the best deal I’ve ever made.”

Dropping the cloth on the bench, I pulled him into my arms. My lips slanted over his. “No, you’re the best I’ve ever made. Deal of a lifetime, and I’m never letting you go.”