Chapter Seventeen
Kason
I take Anthony back to my place. I like having him in my house, in my bed.
Him telling me he just wants to be with me tonight is a big deal.
I could see the nerves in him, feel them, but he worked through them, for me.
Because he wants this, because he’s trying and there’s nothing that feels better than that.
My street is dark and quiet when we arrive. I open the garage and pull in, closing it before we get out, in case there are any photographers lingering around.
“You hungry?” I ask when we go through the garage and into the kitchen.
“I’m sure you are after that game tonight. You sit. I’m taking care of you tonight.” Anthony pushes up and presses his lips to mine, sweetly.
I’m about to tell him he doesn’t have to, that I don’t want him to have to go through the hassle—especially with how late it is—but the way he’s looking at me, the intensity in his green gaze tells me this is important to him.
That Anthony wants to do something special for me.
“A sexy man cooking for me? You don’t have to ask me twice. ”
He gives me a grin I swear is like a lightning bolt to the heart. Everything this man says or does gets to me, but when he looks at me like this, all happiness and pride…there’s nothing like it.
I take a seat at the counter while Anthony goes to my fridge. “Nice jersey,” I tell him. “You look good in it. I like my name on you, want everyone to know such a sexy, sweet man is mine.”
He looks at me over his shoulder and winks. “I heard it’s fun to be fucked by the namesake of the jersey you’re wearing. We’ll have to try it.”
“Hayes and Rylan?” I cock a brow.
“Of course.”
“We’ll do it even better than they do,” I tease.
“Obviously. Anything specific you want?”
“Other than to spend the night with my boyfriend? Nope.”
“Such a sweet-talker,” he says sassily and pulls out some chicken from the fridge. I ate earlier, but I’m always starving after I play. We burn so many calories out there on the ice, and tonight I was working extra hard because of a certain someone in the audience.
We chat while Anthony seasons and tenderizes the chicken breasts. Once he has those on the stove with some olive oil, he pulls out the supplies for a salad. “You want some rice too?” he asks.
“Just the salad is fine. Any issues at the game?”
He rinses the vegetables. “No. Nothing. I thought maybe people would say something or recognize me, but no one did.” It’s not until he begins chopping that he says, “You know it’s not you, right?
It’s not that I care about people knowing I’m with you.
It’s the whole Jilted Exes thing. I don’t want to go through that again, and I don’t want who I am to be a problem for you. ”
“It won’t be. I told you that. I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks, but I get it. I can’t imagine what you went through.” I walk over to him, wrap my arms around him from behind, and kiss the side of his neck. “I like you a lot.”
He relaxes against me but doesn’t stop chopping. “I like you a lot too.”
“Yessss!” I tease, making him chuckle. “Now I’ll leave you alone so you don’t cut yourself again.” I let go of him and return to my chair. “I don’t want my boyfriend hurt.”
He rolls his eyes, but it’s clear he’s trying to hide his smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But you like it.” Even when he tries to pretend I’m being over-the-top, Anthony likes it, which is why I do it.
“You’re all right.” He winks again, and God, even just that makes me grin.
We chat while he finishes cooking, then eat together. When I try to do the dishes, Anthony tells me, “Leave them. I’ll do them in the morning.”
I don’t argue. Anthony seems to have a plan tonight, a goal, and I want to see it through with him. “Okay, so what next?”
“Like I said, I’m taking care of you tonight.” Anthony takes my hand and heads for the stairs. I follow alongside him. When we get to my room, he goes straight for the en suite, but instead of the shower, walks to my custom Jacuzzi tub, which is big enough for both of us.
Still, I ask, “Will you be joining me?”
“No, but you’ll be joining me,” he teases, prompting a soft snicker from me.
“That works too.”
I love baths and have different salts and foams. Anthony uses some, then turns back to me, shaking his head as I reach for my shirt.
“Nope. That’s my job. You had a shutout for me tonight. It’s the least I can do.”
I play along. “True.” When he kneels and reaches for my shoes, I say, “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
Still, he doesn’t stop. One shoe and sock, then the other.
He reaches for my pants next, hooking his fingers in the waistband and gently tugging them down.
I’m not hard, my dick hanging between my legs.
Anthony leans in, nuzzling his face into my groin, pulling in deep breaths, then licking my balls and dick.
“You have such a pretty cock.” He sucks the head into his mouth as I begin to harden.
“Not as pretty as yours.” I thread my fingers through his hair. “Everything about you is so fucking perfect. You’re in my damn mind all the time.”
“You’re in mine too.” Anthony kisses my thigh and continues to remove my pants.
A moment later, he’s on his feet, tugging my shirt over my head.
When he sees the bruise on my chest from where the puck hit me between my pads, he leans in and kisses it, then rubs his cheek against it. “I don’t like to see you hurt.”
“I’m tough, little dancer. I can handle it, but I’ll never complain about you wanting to kiss my injuries better.”
“I’ll remember that.” He turns off the water, then removes his clothes. “Get in,” he tells me, and there’s no chance in hell I’m not listening. I climb in, then get rewarded with Anthony sitting between my legs, his back against my chest. “Are you sore?” he asks.
“Yeah, but not too bad. Baths always help.”
“That’s what I was hoping.” He runs a washcloth up and down my legs as we just sit there for a few minutes together.
“You fit perfectly tucked against me.”
“Oh really?”
“Yep. My body wants to mold itself to yours.” I wrap my arms and legs around him and nibble on the salty skin of his neck.
“You’re a cuddler…a toucher.”
“More with you than I’ve ever been with anyone else. I think I’m addicted to you. Pretty soon you’ll be like, my clingy boyfriend is so annoying.”
His laugh vibrates through his back and into me. “I highly doubt that.”
The thing is, I know he does doubt it. That he can’t imagine himself being the one to walk away from me, that he expects me to decide I’m done with him, that he’s so afraid of being left alone because no one has loved him the way he deserves to be loved. But I will. One day he’ll see that.
I kiss the other side of his throat. Anthony sighs softly, sounding comfortable and content.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t stay in my arms long.
He kneels between my legs, using soap to wash my chest, armpits, then down to my groin.
I watch him as he lifts one leg, cleaning it, then the other.
I showered after the game, but there’s not a part of me that wants to complain about doing this here with him too.
Anthony cleans himself next, lets the water out, then holds his hand out to me and helps pull me to my feet. Continuing with his theme of taking care of me, Anthony dries me off first, then himself. “No clothes. Go lie on your stomach on the bed.”
“This sounds fun,” I tease, then do as he says.
Anthony’s gone for a few minutes, and when he returns, he straddles my thighs, pumps lotion onto my skin, then rubs it in, his hands kneading the sore muscles of my back.
“Oh God. I think I’m in love with you.” My eyes flutter as I melt into the mattress.
Anthony chuckles. “I bet you tell all the Rebels trainers or massage therapists that.”
“Nope. Just you. I don’t like them nearly as much as my boyfriend. Everything you do is better than anything anyone else can do. You’ll always be my favorite.”
Anthony sucks in a sharp breath, his hands stilling for a moment, before he starts massaging again. “You’re my favorite too.”
I sit with those words, smile as I replay them, while Anthony continues to massage me, arms, shoulders, neck, back. He stops each time he gets to my ass, then works his way up again.
My dick is throbbing-hard now. I press into the mattress from time to time, doing what I can to create some friction. The firm pressure of his movements is both relaxing and the biggest aphrodisiac.
“God, you feel amazing. You treat your man so fucking good. Every touch is perfect.” He might be taking care of me tonight, but I still want to praise him, still feel a rush from doing it.
Praising Anthony is for him, yes, but it’s for me too.
“I have the best boyfriend ever. So funny, sweet, and sexy, with magic hands.”
He snickers. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“I would.”
This time when he works his way down my back, Anthony doesn’t stop. He scoots down some, his hands moving to my ass, where he rubs lotion into my cheeks. “Fuck, you have a great ass.”
“You can have it if you want. Anytime. Just say the word, Ant, and you can fill me with that pretty cock of yours. You’ll be the best one to take me, I know it. You’ll be the best to ever fuck me.”
“Jesus.” He spreads my ass cheeks open.
“You like my hole, little dancer? It’s all yours.
It’ll be real nice and tight for you. No one’s had it in years, but it’s all fucking yours now.
Whenever you want it. Just like I’m yours.
” I get that this comes off as sex talk, and there’s no doubt in my mind that Anthony sees it that way, but every word I tell him is true and more than sex talk. Eventually, he’ll see that.
“I’m more of a bottom, but I’m dying to be inside you. I want it, but I’m supposed to be spoiling you tonight, taking care of you the way you always take care of me.”
“You’ll be doing that by giving me your pretty cock.
” I push my ass toward him while Anthony continues to massage my cheeks.
“But if you want mine, you know how much I love giving it to you. I’ll fill your pretty hole, fuck it all night if you’ll let me.
Whatever my boyfriend wants, he gets. Always. ”
“I don’t understand you. How are you even real?” Anthony asks before pressing his lips to my right ass cheek. “Can I?” Another kiss. “You good for my mouth?”
“Yes.” I know my body well.
He doesn’t respond with words, instead kissing his way toward my crease, then licking it from top to bottom.
My hole clenches when his tongue brushes over it, a spark of pleasure shooting up my spine.
Anthony zeroes in on it again, flicking his tongue back and forth over my rim, while I fuck my dick against the bed.
He buries his face in my ass, makes a meal out of me.
My body is jittery and floaty, each press of his tongue or hungry moan he makes into me shooting me higher and higher.
But then he pulls back, and I swear I nearly cry. “Where are you going?”
“I finished my snack, and now I’m massaging.”
I laugh. “My boyfriend is the worst.”
“I thought I was the best?”
“You are. I can’t wait until you believe it.”
Anthony doesn’t respond, his hands rubbing up and down my thighs instead.