Chapter 29
JACK
This amazing week was winding down fast. Too fast. I wasn’t ready to return to the frenetic pace of the regular season, but more than that, I wasn’t ready to let go of Devon.
Because that was what I’d have to do—let go of him.
He knew it. I knew it. Neither of us had said it out loud, but the truth was there.
I could feel it like I’d felt the presence of the Cup in the building during a game-seven final—no one could see it, but we all knew it was there, and before the night was over, someone was taking it home. And someone was leaving empty-handed.
This felt like going into a game seven knowing to my bones we were going to lose.
We’d play our hearts out through an entire season and postseason’s worth of unhealed injuries, and then we’d watch someone else hoist what we’d lost. I’d gone to the finals five times, and I’d lost three.
It was a kind of heartbreak few people understood unless they’d been there on the ice when the buzzer sounded and the numbers on the board weren’t enough.
The analogy was imperfect, but that was what it felt like. As if we were limping through the third period, down by three against a brick wall of a goalie, knowing that, short of a miracle, the ending was inevitable.
No matter what happened tonight, this ended tomorrow.
We’d close the cabin’s door one last time, leave the key in the dropbox, and drive off separately to the same destination.
The day after that, we’d return to the ice in Abbotsford, practicing with the rest of the Grizzlies while bruises and welts faded on my skin beneath my gear.
I didn’t think I’d regret this week in the long run. Right now, though, especially as Devon and I watched a movie on the couch and steadfastly ignored reality, I did regret it. I regretted letting myself give in and get this close to him.
I regretted how perfect it felt to be lying here with my head on his lap, his fingers absently running through my hair, because tomorrow was going to be awful.
I closed my eyes and sighed. I wasn’t worried about missing what was happening onscreen. I’d stopped following it ages ago, focusing instead on the gentle movements of his fingers against my scalp. Of the warmth of his body. Of the powerful thigh muscles beneath my head.
You’re not even gone and I already miss you.
There was still time. The movie had to be nearly over by now, and it was still early in the evening. From the looks we’d exchanged before we’d settled onto the couch, we weren’t finished with each other yet.
Though I wasn’t entirely sure how much I could handle. I loved everything he did to me, inside and out, but there did come a point when pain was less fun. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take on the heels of all the things we’d already done, and I didn’t want our last night to be unpleasant.
“Jack?” Devon’s hand moved from my hair to my shoulder, and he nudged me gently. “Still awake?”
“Hmm?” I pushed myself up and met his gaze. “I’m still awake.”
His smile made my heart flutter and ache at the same time.
How am I supposed to walk away from you tomorrow?
Unaware of my thoughts, he touched my face. “Movie’s over.”
“Already?” I glanced at the screen, and sure enough, the credits were rolling.
“I guess?” He laughed softly. “I think I stopped following it like an hour ago.”
Turning to him again, I smiled. “You too, huh?”
Another laugh, which made me warm all over. When was the last time someone had made me feel this way?
Had I ever felt this way? That was a thought. Because I couldn’t even remember having butterflies like this for my ex-husband.
I trailed my fingertips down his cheek. “Should we get ready for bed?”
“Probably.” An eyebrow rose. “You’re not ready to go to sleep yet, are you?”
Fuck. I could’ve been exhausted to the point of nearly lapsing into a coma, and that devilish sparkle in his eyes would’ve hit me like a whole case of energy drinks.
I swallowed. “Definitely not ready to go to sleep.”
“Neither am I.” His brow furrowed, concern slipping into his expression alongside the heat. “How much are you up for tonight?”
There was a question.
“Uh. Probably not as much as I have been.” I leaned in and kissed him lightly. “Everything hurts, but I’m still horny for you.”
Oh God, I could never get tired of that smoldering hunger in his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” I hesitated. “Maybe not fucking. My ass is a bit sore, too.”
Devon chuckled almost soundlessly as he cupped my face. “Pretty sure we can still entertain ourselves.” He started to move in again, but he hesitated, his eyes losing focus.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing. Nothing.” He shook his head, and his focus resharpened, locking right on me. “We could switch.”
“Switch? Like—”
“Not Dom and sub. I don’t bottom like that.” He swept his tongue across his gorgeous lips. “But I do enjoy being fucked sometimes.”
“Oh. You… really?”
He half-shrugged. “Sometimes. I prefer to top, but…” His grin melted my spine as he slid his hand up into my hair. “For the right man, I’m happy to bottom.”
“Do you like it, though?” I was suddenly out of breath. That seemed to happen a lot with him. “I don’t want you taking it just to—”
His kiss shut me up. With one hand still in my hair, he wrapped his other arm around my waist and drew me in, and his soft kiss and hardening dick reduced me to a quiet whimper.
Evidently sure I was going to stop talking, he drew back and gazed at me. “When I’m with a man I can trust to do it right, yes—I love to bottom.”
I swallowed. “You trust me to do it right? But I’ve never… with you…”
The grin softened to a smile, and he ran the pad of his thumb along my cheekbone. “I trust you to do it right.”
Some part of me thought I should be thinking, no pressure, right?
But… no. There was no pressure.
“Let’s go in the bedroom,” he purred, sliding his hand up my back. “I want you to fuck me, Jack.”
I shivered. “Yes, please?”
He grinned against my lips, and we didn’t make much progress getting to the bedroom. I didn’t mind and he didn’t seem to either. What wasn’t to love about making out a little?
Aside from the part where we weren’t naked. And we weren’t horizontal. And I wasn’t balls deep in him—oh God, he wanted me to fuck him.
I broke the kiss with a gasp. “Bedroom? Please?”
Devon licked his lips. From the wicked glint in his eyes, I thought he’d insist we stay right here for another eternity or two.
To my great relief, he tipped his head toward the hallway.
I didn’t have to be told twice.
Naked in bed, we picked up where we’d left off—wrapped up in each other and kissing like tomorrow didn’t exist. No rush. No hurry. Just the two of us, touching and tasting each other like we had all the time in the world. In that moment, it felt like we did.
Every now and then, his fingertips would brush over a welt or graze a bruise.
When we moved, I had all my usual aches and pains from hockey, but they were muted beneath a layer of tenderness from Devon’s ministrations.
They hurt, but they were little reminders of all the pain and pleasure he’d given me this week.
Reminders of the magic he worked on my body.
I was on my back with Devon over the top of me when he pushed himself up and met my eyes. “I want your dick. Now.”
A soft “fuck” slipped from my mouth, and I dragged my hands up his back. “Yes, Sir.” I said it playfully—this wasn’t a scene—and from his quiet little chuckle, he took it that way.
As he grabbed the lube, I asked, “How do you like it? Position, I mean?”
Handing over the bottle, he quirked his lips. “Start from behind. See where the mood takes us?”
I could definitely work with that.
“Is this position okay for your knee?” he asked as he got on his hands and knees.
“It’s fine.” I knelt behind him and slid a hand over his ass cheek just because I could. “I won’t be able to pound you this way for hours on end, but—”
Devon barked a laugh. “I can’t take getting pounded for hours on end, so we’ll be fine.”
“Fair enough.” I put some lube on my fingers and teased his hole. The little moan as I pushed a finger inside made my heart race. I’d been at his mercy every time we’d fooled around, but suddenly…
Suddenly I was the one in control.
I knew damn well he could turn the tables with a look and a command, but what could I say? I couldn’t resist enjoying this little taste of power while I had it.
“Calisse,” Devon growled after I’d fingered him for a while. “Jack… I said I want your dick now.”
“Mm-hmm. And you’ll get it.” I crooked my fingers to tease his prostate, reveling in his helpless whimper. I hadn’t thought before tonight that I’d ever get a chance to do this, and I definitely hadn’t imagined what a trembling, whimpering mess he’d become. And I wasn’t even fucking him yet.
“Jack…” He trailed off into a moan, and I grinned.
“Never realized you were such a responsive bottom.”
That earned me some growled cursing, but another stroke of his prostate dissolved his words into a moan.
I probably could have teased him all night, but I wanted to please him, too. And I wanted to fuck him before I lost my damn mind.
I slipped my fingers free. “Let me put on some more lube,” I breathed. “Then my dick’s all yours.”
“God, yes,” he gritted out, the muscles in his back rippling as he fidgeted impatiently.
He was hot as hell when he took the reins as my Dom, but there was definitely something to be said for this, too.
I had no illusions that he was submitting—not the way I submitted to him—but he was giving up far more control than he usually did.
Giving that control to me. That was heady as hell.
I stroked some lube onto my cock, then lined myself up. When I pressed against his hole, he moaned and leaned back against me, and…
Oh my God. Sinking into Devon was so damn perfect. Slick, tight, hot—just perfect.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed. “Devon…”