Page 62 of Looks Real Good Now
“Kai, I wasn’t holding out on you. We didn’t talk for years and now we do. That’s it. I’m sorry that you couldn’t use me to get a meeting with the Golden Boy, but it was physically impossible until about a week ago, and you and I are no longer in contact with one another.” Or at least we weren’t until this call.
“Seems like you’re doing a lot more than talking,” he sneered. A noise that sounded an awful lot like a growl came from the man standing next to me.
“Yeah, we’re dating. Now, do you need anything else or did you just call to express your annoyance about who my boyfriend is?”
“Boyfriend? That quick?” Now he looked horrified. It took him nearly six months before he started calling me his girlfriend.
“So that’s a no on needing anything else then? Well, this has been fun Kai, but Muller might pop a blood vessel if he has to listen to anything else, and I’d rather he didn’t go out on the ice, no matter how much other people wanted him to.”
Liam skated so he was in front of me, but behind my phone, his hands cupping my calves before they ran up to my thighs. His thumbs settled in the crease of my hips, and I felt a low pulse in my core. He smirked at me, and with my free hand, I cupped his erection, knocking the smirk right off his face.
“His nickname is Gunner,” Kai said. I’d forgotten he was still on the phone.
“To hockey people, yeah sure. But he’s Muller to me.”
Something hit me then. He wasn’t always called Gunner. His first ever hockey team when we were in elementary school called him Muller and I’d told him that it was dumb and would never catch on. Until one day in our freshman year of high school, I had used it as a joke and realised it wasn’t quite as dumb as I’d previously thought, so I started using it full-time.
And the hockey team called him Gunner from then onwards.
“Look, Kai, not that this conversation hasn’t been thrilling, but I’m gonna go because I have Liam Mulligan on an ice rink and that is much more interesting than this.” I hung up before he could respond and then clicked on his contact and blocked the number.
“He seems nice,” Liam said, his thumbs sweeping up and down my hip crease.
“You can park the sarcasm. He was a good boyfriend. I guess his ego is feeling a little bruised because I went from him to his favourite hockey player. Hey, how come everyone stopped calling you Muller?” I asked.
“How come you always tell people that your name is Alana when they try giving you a nickname? Or when they follow my lead and try to call you Lenny?” he countered.
“Because my nameisAlana.” And I hated nicknames. My name wasn’t that long to say in full.
“Don’t know if you’ve noticed Len, but I hardly call you that.”
Of course I’d noticed. I hadn’t been called Lenny for over a decade and I would have told anyone who would listen that I didn’t miss it. But I did. Because it washisname for me.
Liam paused the movement of his thumbs. “It’s yours,” he started. “The first time you called me Muller, I knew I would never let anyone else use it again. I made up some story about how I felt like it was messing up my game and well, you know how us sportspeople are.”
“Superstitious little fucks,” I huffed. “Well, same here. My name is Alana unless you happen to be my brother. Or you,” I finished quietly. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and the movement shifted his cock harder into the hand I still had hovering over the area. “It’s cold in here, how are you still this hard? You didn’t play like this, did you?”
“No, it calmed itself down and the cup did a lot of the work. This right here is all your fault. Your ass in these leggings whenyou’re skating is the best visual. I didn’t get to fully appreciate it the other day.” His hands moved around to cup the top of my ass.
“We should get out of here. You good to go?” I squeezed my hand around him once more for good measure, and he groaned in my ear.
“Yeah, let’s go home.”
36
Liam
“How much like a pre-game ritual do you want here?” I asked as I turned onto our street.
“Why, do you do something weird?”
“Not weird as such and I think you’ll like it, but I need you to give me five minutes when we get in.”
I pulled into the Fitzpatrick’s driveway.
“Fine, I’ll give you twenty and make pasta dough so we can have fresh stuff for dinner. Might as well get yourself close again while you’re at it,” she replied, reaching over and giving my cock a firm stroke before getting out of the car.
I leant my head back against the seat and groaned.
