Page 58 of Until He Scores

My hands shook as I put a couple of sets of towels in the warmer, then set the temp on the shower. Of course, Mr. Hockey Star would have one of those fancy showers. With the chair in the middle of the sprays, he’d be able to get cleaned up without worry and I could do whatever he couldn’t.

Right now, however, my adrenaline was pumping. My heart was in my throat. Thierry had bravery for days. He knew himself better than I knew myself most times. This... This moment with him, I dug deep. Stopped repressing my feelings. I’d done it for so long in my life, it came as second nature. I drew from the well when situations dictated, I needed to use them. I went through life in an affable fog, going through the motions. Practiced my laugh. My smile. I had canned answers for questions.

Suppose I needed therapy now that I thought about it.

Compartmentalizing my emotions was second nature though. The only time I ever felt alive was out on the ice. Being in that net, staring to my right and seeing Thierry beside me, brought the world around me into focus. Later, it was my art, but not in the same ways. I figured being disconnected from others was why I didn’t stay in places for very long. The itch to move on. To drive away without a backward glance. I bet, had my father never had his heart attack, I wouldn’t have come back.

When I stepped back into the room, Thierry sat on the edge of his bed, tugging his sweatshirt off, exposing his compact muscles and the honed precision of a hockey player. He might not be able to get out on the ice, but he kept himself in shape. My dick twitched in appreciation as I ate up his tanned flesh. From his dark nipples to the strip of dark-brown hair leading to his cock. I lifted my gaze and met his stormy gaze, knowing I’d been caught staring at him.

Time stopped. From one breath to the next I crossed the room looming over him. His hands went to my tattooed-covered stomach and the small of my back. Those callused fingers of his rasped against my skin, a feeling I’d lost long ago when I stopped playing hockey. When his lips met my skin, I hissed, surprised by the contact and the ease in which he’d touched me. His movements were fluid. Practiced, not jerky and impatient likemine. He lowered my shorts, flicking his tongue along the indent of my hips and groin.

“Fuck,” I moaned. “We’re not making it to the shower, are we?”

He snickered against my skin, sending a tingle of anticipation through me. “Soon. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. I’m going to savor unwrapping my present.”

When those rough fingers of his rubbed against the crisp hairs at the base of my dick, my heart hammered, and my chest tightened. The suspense would be the death of me as he unveiled my hard, throbbing cock. I wanted to tell him to hurry up, but this was his moment as well as mine. We had all day. He’d set the pace. Whatever he wanted, I’d give him. I made the silent bargain with myself, settling in for however long Thierry needed me.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured. “The tattoos suit you.”

“Thank you?” I didn’t take compliments well. Never had.

“No, thank you.” He shucked my shorts, and my cock slapped my lower belly. “Damn... Look at you.” Thierry’s gaze ate up my body and my dick. He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he palmed my erection.

“You really know how to feed a guy’s ego,” I whispered.

He smirked, stroking me with sure tugs of his fist. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Yes,” I grunted, flexing into his grasp. “Fuck. Don’t stop, Thierry.”

“You can always tell me to stop,” he said, turning serious for a second. “Just tell me you’re overwhelmed. We’ll go slow.”

“If you don’t get my dick in your mouth, I’m coming on your face,” I growled. I appreciated his care for me. However, he didn’t need to use kid gloves.

“Impatient.” He bent forward and nuzzled the length of my shaft. “Is there anything you don’t want me to do?”

I wasn’t sure. “No.”

“Trust me?” He pressed a kiss to my groin.

“Always.”

He lifted his left hand. “Suck my middle finger.”

Aggressive. I liked it. I did as he asked. The second I opened to him; he took the head of my dick into his mouth and flicked the tip of his tongue through my slit. I went weak kneed and whimpered, sucking his finger until he pulled free.

“Easy now,” he murmured.”

He gobbled me up while reaching around behind me. The second his middle finger touched my asshole, I jerked, surprised by the contact. He rubbed the puckered hole like I would a clit. The sensations were unusual to start with, but the more he sucked my dick, the better it began to feel. My hand went to his hair. Those curly locks fit into my fist as I directed him over me, losing myself to the pleasure burning a strip across my soul.

“Thierry...” The pleading quality of my voice only stimulated me more. “Fuck...”

My mind splintered. The world could end right now, and I wouldn’t care as long as I stayed right where I was. A soft hum of approval vibrated down my length and combined with the wet sounds Thierry made bobbing his head. I felt like one giant exposed nerve ending. The warm tingle spreading through my lower belly added to the languorous excitement flowing through my veins.

“I think I’m close,” I said through clenched teeth, sucking air. Fuck, he was so good at this.

He hummed again, before pulling off me to give my balls attention. “You can come in my mouth. I don’t mind.” Goddamn him for being so perfect. He destroyed my control with soft eyes and pretty words.

“You’re killing me,” I said, watching him.

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