Chapter 10
ELGIN
I was surprised this morning when Ara said he had to go out, and I was to stay in.
I’m not sure exactly how long I’ve been here now, but it’s been quite some time, and he’s never left me on my own.
He’s been at my side almost obsessively.
He goes as far as the dining room table when I’m in bed, but I swear, that’s it.
I’m not sure what to do with myself. I’m trying not to think about how shook I was when I woke up this morning, nearly in the middle of an orgasm with his mouth on my dick and his fingers up my ass.
As impossible as it sounds, it was one of the most consuming orgasms of my entire life.
I can still feel it in my legs. They feel weak and wobbly.
That was more than two hours ago. How the hell am I still feeling the remnants of a damn orgasm? How can it be that good? I have to be imagining it. There’s simply no way.
It has to have something to do with how this man has stroked my dick with his voice since the moment he pulled me into his car from that alley where I was drunk and being shot at.
Maybe this is the effect of a hero complex.
Maybe I’m so stupidly addicted because this is the first man I’ve been attracted to.
Honestly, I kind of thought I’d freak out if I ever found myself attracted to a man. It’s almost weird that I’m not. Yes, it’s shocking and kind of confusing, but I’m not upset about it.
It could be because of the entire situation, though. It began when I was drunk and shot at. I’m in a stupid novel where I’m the target of a gang who wants me dead, so I’m being protected by hot, muscly guys in a rich house.
More than anything, it doesn’t feel like this is my life. This kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me. Being able to play hockey as a career is as good as it gets. That’s the pinnacle of adventure in my life. How did I end up on an episode of Crime not sure I pull it off, though. “What is it that you do, exactly?” I ask, partly to change the subject.
“Whatever is needed.”
“If you want to find another job, what would you list this as for previous experience?”
“Security and consultation.”
I understand the security, but not the consultation. “Huh. Okay.”
“What about you? You just do hockey?”
Sighing, I look at Ross through slitted eyes. “I play hockey. It’s abhorrent that not a single one of you likes hockey.”
“It’s barbaric.”
I shake my head. “Yes, I just play hockey, though I don’t think you fully grasp how demanding it is since you think I have time for other shit.”
“You’ve been here for more than a couple weeks. I haven’t seen you need to get to work or anything. How demanding can it be?”
“You get an entire week off, so I could ask you the same.”
Ross nods. “Oh, definitely. Most of the time, I can say I just work two weeks a month. There are some months, though, when that feels like I’m working eight weeks a month.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So…?” he prompts. “How demanding is it?”
“Very. It’s a high-impact sport in which we never stop moving.
It’s in our job description to shove people into the boards and be prepared for the same.
It’s rough on the joints—knees and back, especially.
We spend hours on our physical endurance alone, discounting how much time we spend on skill.
There’s up to two weeks of travel at a time, living out of a suitcase, hopping time zones, and sometimes getting little sleep.
Then there are the commitments outside of the game and practice itself—events, conferences, and shit. There’s nothing just about hockey.”
“Yep, you sold me.”
“Into being a hockey fan?” I ask.
“Oh no. Not a chance. You’ve sold me that it’s barbaric.”
I roll my eyes. “I suppose you enjoy golf or watching paint dry.”
“Nope. I prefer polo.”
My eyebrows knit together. “Do they even play that in the US?”
“Nope.”
I shake my head. “Great. Sounds exciting,” I deadpan and turn away from the window to continue down the hall.
“Don’t be upset. We still support all the sticks you shove places. We’ll cheer you on next season.”
“Honored.”
Ross laughs.
We walk in silence for a while. “So, when will Ara be back?”
“Dunno. Could be minutes, or it could be hours. You lonely? Am I not enough entertainment for you?”
“As thrilling as not finding more than a bathroom door unlocked is, yeah, I’m a little bored.”
“What would you normally be doing if you were home?”
I think about it and… “I have no idea,” I say, laughing.
“How can I entertain you if you don’t know what you want to do?”
“What do you normally do when you’re not making sure someone isn’t getting into trouble somewhere they shouldn’t be?”
Ross grins. “Game room. Come on.”
He walks with purpose down the hall now, and I follow because why not? What else am I going to be doing right now?
While there aren’t many twists or turns in the hall, I still feel more lost the longer I follow him.
Eventually, he stops and shoves open a set of dark, polished double doors.
The entire house has an old, elegant, rich vibe, but the rooms themselves feel like something out of an old movie.
I’m in a wealthy house with dark wood and rich furnishings.
The ceilings aren’t bare but have decorative metal panels.
There aren’t boob lights, but chandeliers.
This one is no different, though it’s obviously a game room.
There’s a pool table, a foosball table, and an air hockey table.
There’s a large poker table, a bar along the back wall, many high-top tables with tall seats, and an entire wall of board games stacked into a tall bookshelf.
There are also half a dozen televisions hanging throughout the room.
“I’d be playing a game. If you’d asked Martin, he’d be losing himself in a book, though he tries not to read while on the clock because he doesn’t hear a damn thing going on around him when he’s caught up in a good book,” Ross says.
“This is impressive,” I admit.
He nods. “Yep. There’s plenty to do here alone, but even more when you have a buddy. Want to play something?”
It occurs to me that perhaps he was sent after me to lead me from the many halls filled with locked doors, so I couldn’t accidentally stumble upon something, but you know what? That’s fine. I was being nosy because I was bored. Now I don’t need to be bored.
“Yes. Air hockey. At least you have a form of hockey here.”
Ross snorts. “You’re on.”