8. Kai
CHAPTER EIGHT
KAI
I should have gone home an hour ago. The problem is, Oskar has a way of making me feel things. We laugh and joke like friends, but that isn’t what we are. We’re two guys who hooked up and found a reason to have a picnic.
What, exactly, was that back at Bethesda Terrace? I ran off at the mouth like I haven’t done for a while. I wanted him to be impressed by that spot, but not enough to justify info-dumping like I’ve never learned to control it.
“What is that?” Oskar asks.
I look around, surprised to see we’ve made it so far already.
“Columbus Circle,” I say. “Southwest corner of the park. It’s on the National Register of Historic Places, and when Frederick Law Olmsted—”
I cut myself off as soon as Oskar smiles. Hopefully, he doesn’t think I’m too weird for knowing things like this. I find my happy voice, the one I use with teammates. “Sorry about that. As you’ve no doubt noticed, I can get carried away.”
Our hands brush, and the spark of static electricity startles me.
“I like it, Kai,” he says. “You know so much. If I’m going to live here, or at least across the river, I need to know about the city.”
“Don’t want to bore you.”
Because I don’t want you to think I’m odd.
He shakes his head. “You are the opposite of boring. Talking about things makes you excited, and I love how your face lights up.”
It happens again. Like half the things he says, his words make me feel warm in a way that has nothing to do with the August heat. I keep thinking he makes me feel safe, which is an odd word choice. If I’m not in danger, what is there to feel safe from?
“Would you like to see my hotel?” he asks. “I am not used to this heat, and it would be nice to take a break. We could go out again later if you want to.”
I study his face, trying to decide what he’s inviting me to his hotel for. His expression gives no clue. All I see is a ridiculously attractive guy whose brow is a little wrinkled.
To hell with it. I’m down for going to his hotel, whatever he wants to do there.
“Sure,” I say. “We should go inside for a while. Where are you staying?”
“Arlo Midtown. Do you know it?”
I shake my head. “Heard of it. What’s the address?”
“West 38th Street, between Eighth and Ninth.”
A Manhattan map appears in my mind, and I come up with a route and point south. “We can walk down Eighth, since we’re already on it.”
What will I do if he wants to have sex again?
As if I don’t know.
The light changes so we can cross, and I glance at him. “Let’s go.”
Thirty minutes later, we arrive at the Arlo. I barely notice the lobby except for the cold air that feels freezing after being outside. He guides us to the elevator, and when we exit into the twenty-third-floor hallway, he nods to the right. “This way.”
His room turns out to be a suite. We step into a sitting area with modern furniture, and there’s a bedroom through an open doorway.
To one side is a king-size bed, and a floor-to-ceiling window offers a killer view of Midtown.
Whatever Oskar does for a living, his new company obviously thinks he’s worth a splurge.
“Like it?” he asks, turning to face me.
“It’s amazing. That has to be one of the best views in the city.”
He looks me over from head to foot. “The buildings are okay, but I would rather look at you.”
My brain grinds to a halt. “Oh.”
He tilts his head as his lips twitch. “Du ?r s? fin, Kai.” His cheeks are flushed from our walk in the sun.
I start thinking about Norse gods again, and my throat goes dry. “Which means?”
“You are so fine.”
I swallow so hard my throat clicks.
He takes a step closer and licks his lips. “Fan. I cannot stop looking.”
With him speaking Swedish, there is no chance in hell I can resist. I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them, he steps forward until our shoes are touching.
“You’re quiet,” he says. His Swedish accent seems more pronounced than usual.
“Just tired,” I lie. He says nothing, so I add, “And hot.”
“Ah, yes.” He raises his hand and traces my jaw with his fingertips. “You are so very hot.”
His touch sends a powerful jolt of desire through me. “I should shower.”
“Perhaps I could join you?” His eyes are so dark they look feverish.
“Yes.”
In the bathroom, we waste no time taking off our clothes. It’s a large rainfall shower, and he spends a little time adjusting the water temperature. When I step under the spray, it’s perfect.
“Should I wash your back?” he asks. “Or perhaps first…” He trails off, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
“What?”
Instead of answering, he sinks to his knees. My brain is half a step behind, and when it catches up, I gasp. My mind goes back to our first time together, how focused he was on my pleasure, but this feels different. More deliberate, almost worshipful.
“Oskar, what—”
“Shh.” He grasps my hips with his big hands. “Let me do this for you.”
“You don’t have to,” I manage, but my cock is already throbbing.
“I want to.” He looks up at me from under his blond eyelashes, where the tiny droplets of water shimmer. “I have wanted to taste you since our first night.”
Before I can respond, he licks a long stripe along my cock. Then he raises his eyebrows, like he’s asking a question.
“Fuck yes,” I whisper because there is no way in hell I could turn this down.
In a second, his mouth is on me. I brace one hand against the wall and tangle the fingers of the other in his long hair. The strands are wet, and I love how they feel.
He takes me deeper, and my cry echoes off the tile. It’s been so long since anyone’s sucked me off.
“Don’t stop,” I say. “Feels fucking awesome.”
His soft moans ignite a flash of heat in my gut.
“Oskar,” I croak, and he takes me so deep I hit the back of his throat. Instead of gagging, he adjusts, and his throat does something that makes me weak in the legs. Then he’s sucking again, working his tongue across the bottom of my shaft.
Water drips into my eyes, blurring the sight of him kneeling in front of me. I’m making broken, needy sounds that betray how close I already am.
His hands grip my hips harder, holding me steady as he changes gears.
The predictable rhythm disappears, and I groan as my mind searches for a pattern, something to hold on to, anything to ease the fiery chaos in my mind and body.
But his mouth is hot and wet, sucking and licking, pulling all my defenses away.
Each movement sends new waves of pleasure through me, building until I’m shaking all over.
“Gonna… Fuck!” He hums around me, and the vibration pushes me over the edge.
I shout as my orgasm barrels into me, then again with every heavy shot I pump into his mouth. I’m loud, but I’m not embarrassed. I made more noise every time he fucked me.
When I stop spurting, I sag against the wall. He stays on his knees, looking up at me. The deep blue of his eyes stirs something deep inside. I sink to the floor and pull him into a kiss. He wraps his arms around me, and I notice I’m shaking.
“Thank you,” I whisper against his mouth.
“The pleasure was all mine,” he says, his voice rough.
“No.” I draw back enough to see his face. “It was definitely mine too.”
“Watch this,” he says, wrapping his hand around his cock.
I’m torn between watching him jerk off and staring into his eyes, so I go back and forth. He starts moaning, and my dick twitches even though it’s way too soon to get hard again.
“Fuck!” he cries as he shoots all over the floor. Each volley hits with an audible thump.
As I watch him lost in ecstasy, I realize this is more than I bargained for. Oskar is dangerous, but as he cups my face, smearing cum on my cheek, I don’t care. At least for now.
I wake very sweaty. Oskar could make a living as a heat generator. He’s snoring near my ear, just loud enough to reassure me he’s still there.
It’s amazing to have a man wrapped around me because he wants to be. That’s new, and it drives home how different Oskar is from the guys I’ve been hooking up with for years.
But there’s something else I keep coming back to. At Strawberry Fields, when he cried and told me about Gunnar, he didn’t make a big thing of it. He let it happen, wiped his face, and said he’d be fine.
I didn’t do much but keep my hand on his back.
And he let me.
I want more of this. Sex, of course, but not only that. I want more of feeling special. More talking and laughing, more carefree moments when my life doesn’t seem so different from anyone else’s.
Not too much, though. There was a time I talked and laughed with my ex, and I can’t let myself forget what happened.
Even if I were open to the risk of Oskar hurting me, it would never work. Life will get busy next month when I go to training camp, and during the season, the schedule is frantic. Nine months of practices, home games, road trips, and appearances. It never stops.
Oskar snores again, then jerks awake and turns his head. “Hi,” he croaks.
“Hi.”
He trails his fingers across my chest and smiles. Only a few inches separate us, and I can’t resist kissing him. This thing between us won’t last long, which means I’d better enjoy it while I can.