Page 23

Rafael

Cody stopped talking to me altogether. I had no idea he was a virgin. I grew up with rich, little assholes who’d already gone through rehab by the time they were fifteen. Being a virgin at eighteen was unheard of at my school.

I needed the distance, though, because the joy I felt waking up with Cody in my arms was undeniable.

It fucking terrified me.

That being said, the falling out couldn’t have been more poorly timed. Our parents were out of town, and I wanted to break down his bedroom door and pound him doggie style while his hands gripped the headboard and he screamed my name.

We also had a scrimmage, and I was hoping he’d talk to me before it started. It was a nothing game—just some friendly competition in preparation for pre-season. Still, I was really hoping there wouldn’t be any tension on the ice.

***

Yeah, there was fucking tension, alright. From the minute we started, it felt like Cody was playing against me and me alone.

There were fifteen seconds left on the clock, and we were tied. The Pistons, a travel team from Massachusetts, were down a man because of cross-checking. Asher had won the face-off.

He passed it to Cody, who raced down the ice. Their team was fast, and their men covered him in a moment.

I was wide open by the net and screamed for Cody to pass it. He ignored me, his eyes searching for anyone to pass to but me. He found Asher and passed it, but Asher was already covered, and their left defenseman intercepted the puck and bolted for our net.

It felt like the game moved in slow motion as he barreled toward Rowan. Asher did his best to catch up. The defenseman shoulder-checked Asher, sending him flying. Rowan braced himself, and all I could do as I charged forward was pray that this guy couldn’t shoot.

He could.

He scored with two seconds left in the game and secured the win.

Cody was done for.

Cody

Coach reamed out, and I deserved it.

I was ashamed of myself.

I let the hurt of it all sway my performance on the ice. What a fucking hypocrite I was. I did precisely what I was worried Rafael would do.

Hockey was my life, my passion, and I was letting our bullshit affect my commitment to the sport I loved.

Rafael sat in the corner of the locker room, his stare burning into my back, but I wouldn’t make eye contact.

He would have easily scored the winning shot had I passed it to him, but I wanted to take that away from him. It was a cowardly move.

We arrived at an empty house, and I made my way to the upstairs bathroom to shower. The warm water cascading down my aching shoulders was a welcome relief.

I toweled off and made my way to my bedroom, only to find Rafael sitting on my bed with his arms crossed.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I asked.

His face was red with rage, and his jaw clicked as he ground his teeth. “We are going to work this out so you never pull a stunt like that again.”

“It was a scrimmage, Rafael. Relax.” I was bluffing. The heat of embarrassment warmed my cheeks. I should have never brought our shit onto the ice.

Rafael rose from the bed and approached. My body tensed as I prepared for the worst. He stopped inches before me with an unreadable look on his face. “Hit me.”

I blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Get it out of your system. Hit me,” he said again.

My heartbeat accelerated. Standoffs with Rafael stirred my emotions like nothing else. A collision of anger and arousal rumbled within. “Why would you let me hit you like this?” I asked.

“Because I hurt your feelings.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it left me speechless. “Hit me,” he said again.

His blue eyes stared into mine with quiet resignation. He braced himself for whatever I decided to do. Jesus, we were so fucked up. I didn’t want to fight with Rafael anymore. My hands didn’t long to pummel him like before; they longed to hold him.

“I don’t want to hit you.”

Our chests heaved as we stood face-to-face. The air in the room buzzed with the intensity radiating between us. Rafael’s hands slowly rose, and he cupped my face. My breath hitched at the touch. His fingers caressed my skin, and I closed my eyes as the longing I’d fought for days finally consumed me. Our foreheads pressed together, and my arms wrapped around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Our lips connected, and desire pooled at the base of my stomach. I pulled away and asked, “Rafael, what is this? What’s happening to us?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “But, I want it—I need it.”

My body melted into his, and I held him tighter. “I do, too, but I can’t handle it. You fucking hurt me, Rafael.”

“Cody, tell me what I can do. How can I make up for the word vomit I spewed in the car?”

For what I wanted to say, I couldn’t look at him, but I needed to say it. “I know in my head that what you said in the car is the truth: our parents would flip, we have a hockey team to think about, and school will start in a few months, which will only further complicate things. But I just can’t turn off my emotions. I want you to show me you care, and I want to feel safe caring about you.”

Rafael pulled me closer and said, “I liked holding you that night. I liked waking up with you in my arms.”

“I liked it too,” I whispered.

“Let’s sleep in the same bed.”

I looked at him with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

My heart thundered in my chest. I never expected Rafael to say something like that. It was such an intimate gesture and so unlike him.

“I want that,” I said.

“Good. Me too. We can figure out how to navigate this together.” We kissed again. My hips thrust into him as my cock hardened. He pulled away and asked, “So, no more brat behavior on the ice?”

I raised a brow and said, “Let’s make a deal: you stop being a dick, and I won’t be a brat on the ice.”

“What a bratty answer,” he replied. “Deal.”

I kissed him again, this time a bit more playful and sweet.

He pulled away and smirked. “I couldn’t believe you tonight. You made it your mission to fuck with me. You have no idea how close I was to putting you over my knee and spanking your ass in the fucking locker room.”

Mmm, you don’t say? I looked down and saw the massive tent my dick had formed under the towel.

Rafael noticed too. “Well, well, well. Someone liked that visual, huh?”

Yeah, I did. I liked it a lot. “Do it, Rafael. Put me over your knee and spank me.”

Rafael looked truly shocked. “Fuck, Cody. You are so kinky. Are you serious?”

“Very,” I replied.

Rafael bit his lower lip as he backed away, grabbed the chair at my desk, and sat down. “Take off your towel and get over my knee.”

The towel slipped from my waist as I closed the distance between us. Rafael’s eyes grew hungry as he surveyed my body. “Assume the position,” he commanded.

I draped myself over his knee. It took some adjusting to find the right position, but I finally settled into it. I looked up at him; his face was the hottest mix of sternness and excitement.

“Do you want playful or painful?” he asked.

“Don’t be a pussy about it,” I replied.

His laugh filled the room. “You dirty little brat,” he hummed with approval. “We need a safe word. What will you say if it gets too intense?”

Hmm. Good call. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Offsides.”

Rafael gave me a disapproving look. “Too cliché.”

“Fuck you,” I spat.

“How about Rutabaga?”

“What?” Now I was laughing. “Why?”

“Because we need something that can’t be confused or misinterpreted. Plus, your ass cheeks will look like two big rutabagas by the time I’m done spanking you.”

How did Rafael make the word rutabaga sound sexy? “Rutabaga it is.”

“Good. Look forward.”

I followed his order, and Rafael’s hand came down with force.

The sting sent ripples of pain and pleasure through my body. Another swat connected, and my cock grew hard again. Rafael was merciless, spanking my ass hard and fast.

“This is what happens to brats,” he said through clenched teeth. “They get punished. If you ever fuck up a game like that again, I will spank this ass until you can’t sit for a week.”

“Fuck you,” I hollered back. I knew that would rile him up. I liked playing the role of mouthy brat over his knee.

“Language!” He released an all-out assault on my ass.

That’s more like it.

“Will you ever do something like that again?” He asked.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

I couldn’t answer. The intensity of the pain and pleasure was overwhelming. It felt amazing.

Smack.

“Answer my question.”

Smack.

My hiss of pain was soon followed by a low moan. “No…”

“If you have beef with me, does it ever make its way onto the ice?”

Smack.

“No!”

Smack.

“No, what?” He asked.

Smack.

“Ow. Fuck you!” Jesus, I was asking for it, but I fucking loved it.

Smack.

“No—”

Smack.

“—What?”

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

I could feel my hard-on pressing against his lap. The sting was intense, but with each explosive strike of his hand, the pain transformed into pleasure and raced through me. “No, sir!”

Smack.

“What was that?” he asked.

Smack.

“No, sir!”

Smack.

“Bad boys need correcting, don’t they?”

Smack.

“Yes, sir!”

Smack.

“Louder,” he commanded.

Smack.

“Yes, sir!”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Rutabaga!”

The spanking stopped immediately, and Rafael whispered, “Good boy.”

I let out a soft whimper. Being held down like that, pressed against him, felt so intimate I could barely breathe. I was utterly powerless beneath him. His hand rubbed my ass slowly and deliberately, soothing the tender ache that radiated through my body.

He motioned for me to get up, then patted his knee, signaling me to sit on it. I hesitated for a moment before settling onto his lap, wincing at the pain. He pressed his lips to mine, and I hummed in pleasure.

“Now, go lie down on my bed. I’ll get the aloe.”

God, bouncing off his lap and rushing to his bedroom was the most embarrassing moment of my life—but I didn’t care.

That was undeniably the hottest thing ever.