Brayden #4
Thoughts of Spencer were the only things keeping me sane for the moment. I was close to giving up on my prospects, but Spencer wouldn’t let me give up hope that Hector would come through. He did say it would take a few days, but I was getting antsy. I wanted to play. I needed it.
I jumped for my cell every time it vibrated. Random emails, social media tags, and calendar reminders to head to practice were the bane of my existence.
Staring at it and willing it to ring didn’t work either. I’d already done plenty of that too.
I stood in front of the refrigerator, looking for something to eat—there wasn’t anything different from five minutes ago—and sighed. I was bored.
“Spencer, I’m working out,” I called, then slipped into my running shoes and picked up my cell and earbuds, ready to head to the building’s gym. I needed to burn off this energy instead of sitting here doing nothing.
“You sure?” he asked, walking out of the bathroom in just a towel and a smirk.
Water dripped from his still-wet hair onto his shoulders, and I followed a drop down his pec to his taut nipple.
I licked my lips, wanting to capture that drop.
Lust flushed hot through me, and I palmed my hardening cock. Just looking at him turned me on.
“Do it,” he ordered, clearly reading my reaction to him.
I dropped my things on the sofa and strode over to him. I tugged his towel open and let it fall to the floor before I kissed a line down his pec, then sucked on his nipple. He hissed when I bit down and threaded his fingers into my hair, tugging sharply until the bite of pain made me moan.
I gripped his stiffening dick and worked him slowly, dragging out each stroke. He hummed, and I licked his pebbled nipple again, then continued lower, following the line of his abs with my tongue.
My cell phone started ringing, and I froze.
“Get it,” Spencer ordered softly. “Go on. It’s important.”
I whined, hating the interruption, but reached for my cell anyway.
Hector was calling me back.
“Cowboy,” I choked out, my voice wobbling in that slightly unhinged way. Spencer tugged me onto the sofa next to him and answered the call.
“You’ve got this,” he encouraged.
I closed my eyes for a moment, exhaled and put it on speaker. “Hola, Hector. Please tell me you have something.”
There was a warm chuckle on the other end. “As a matter of fact, I do. I expect a set of Cubans and the most expensive whiskey you can find for getting you this offer.”
I sucked in a breath and squeaked out, “Lay it on me.”
“The San Diego Seals signed a deal with Sullivan to replace their forward who retired. He’s not lacking in talent, but he’s not gelling with the team, and he’s miserable.
He’s missing his family who lives somewhere outside of Boston, and his girlfriend just transferred to Boston General.
Sully confided in his agent that he wants to transfer back home.
That agent happened to come to me for advice on how to handle breaking the news that it was impossible.
I suggested it might not be. When we proposed a trade to the teams, they loved it. ”
“Sweet Baby Jesus,” I breathed, excitement pooling in my belly. “They went for it?”
“The Seals agreed when they realized Sully wanted to move for personal reasons. The Blizzards suddenly found themselves without a forward, and they liked what they saw in Sullivan last season. They agreed too.”
I looked at Spencer. His grin was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. He nodded and murmured excitedly, “LA is right there. It’s perfect for both of us.”
“Send me the agreements so I can sign them,” I ordered. “And I’ll send you a whole fucking case of whiskey and Cubans.”
“There’s a catch,” he cautioned.
My gut sank and my voice was shaky when I asked, “What is it?”
“You need to be there tomorrow to start training. Get a flight booked for tonight.”
“Done. He’ll be there,” Spencer answered.
I laughed, the weight of my whole career collapsing before my eyes dissipating.
I had a spot, and not with a shitty team, but with the Seals.
They were good—a new team that had the potential to go all the way.
Apart from being on opposite sides of the country from Spencer, the catch the team had imposed wasn’t so bad either.
The sooner I got back into hockey, the better, and Spencer could follow me the moment he had things wrapped up here.
“Thanks, Hector. I…” I cleared my throat and squeezed my eyes closed to stop the burning. “I’m grateful.”
“My pleasure, Miller.”
Spencer hung up and pressed a kiss to my temple. I shifted so I could lay my head in his lap. He ran his fingers through my hair, and I sucked in a wobbly breath, elation and relief replacing the bone-deep fear that I’d completely fucked up my career.
“Fuck,” I breathed. “I thought I was done.”
“I knew you’d get picked up,” he reassured me. I nuzzled his soft cock in response, pressing my face against his skin and breathing in his scent and the shower gel he’d just used. I needed him for a whole other reason now.