3. Payton
“Nordstrom,don’t you dare walk away from me!”
My heart is pounding as I tear off my skates and stomp after him in socks. There’s no doubt in my mind anymore— Erik is injured and hiding it from everyone. But hurt or not, the man moves like a longship, slicing through the ice and plunging ahead at full speed.
Despite leaving the rink together, Erik has already disappeared down the corridor that leads to the player showers and sauna. His long legs stretch the distance between us with easy, unhurried steps until I have to jog just to catch up. Nothing as big as Erik should move that fast.
I close the gap between us at the steam room doors— and don’t stop. Without giving myself time to think, I plunge past Erik to block the doorway. Arms crossed in front of my chest, I narrow my eyes at him.
But Erik matches me glare for glare, neither of us saying a word. We stand there for what feels like forever, tension and unspoken questions exploding around us like fireworks. Finally, he blows out a hard breath and shakes his head as if making a decision.
“You know I don’t want to go, Payton. I’d spend every minute with you if I could. But—” He stops, the pain obvious on his face now. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, really.”
Before I can say a word, he wraps his long fingers around my upper arms and picks me up off the floor. My shoeless feet dangle off the ground as Erik simply sets me aside and keeps walking.
I’ve always known Erik is strong, but seeing such a casual display of that strength sends shivers up my spine and heat between my legs.
Even injured, he picked me up without the slightest effort. He may as well have been setting a gallon of milk on the counter. There’s no evidence of strain on his face or effort in his eyes— like I weigh nothing at all.
It shouldn’t melt me into a gooey mess, but it does.
“Hey—” I call out as soon as the lusty haze of my thoughts clears. “Hey! Don’t give me that stoic Viking bullshit, Erik. Not now. Talk to me, god damn it.”
Fuck this.
I take a few quick steps and launch myself at Erik from behind. I land against the solid slab of his back and wrap my arms around his shoulders with my hands splayed across the solid plane of his chest. My legs circle the tree trunk of his waist, holding on for dear life. If Erik is angry or annoyed to find himself wearing me like a backpack, he doesn’t show it.
Nothing new there— Erik isn’t exactly the type for big emotional displays or angry outbursts. He might come across as cold and stoic to other people, but I know the truth. Behind that icy demeanor, Erik burns red-hot.
He stops mid-stride, meeting my eyes in the mirrored wall.
“Payton?” Erik sounds more amused than angry. “What are you doing?”
The nonchalant tone of his voice is enough to push me over the edge. I know that something is wrong. What’s more, Erik knows that I know. It isn’t like him to ignore a problem when he can skate through it instead. One way or another, I’m getting to the bottom of this today.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Nordstrom.” I hop off Erik’s back, marching around to face him. “I don’t care if it takes all day. You’re going to talk to me.”
I wait for him to meet my eyes and blow out a long breath.
“I know something is wrong,” I tell him softly. “And I’m worried about you, Erik. But if you want me to go, I will. Say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”
The words hang in the air between us.
Slowly, carefully, Erik stops moving. He sighs, and it’s a sad, resigned sound.
“You really are very good,” Erik says quietly enough to make my heart shatter for him. “I could have hidden it from anyone else, you know.”
He hangs his head, refusing to meet my eyes.
“It’s not weakness to admit you’re hurting.” I take his hand in a tight grip. “That’s why you have a whole team behind you.”
Erik’s fingers are thick and long, his palm dwarfing mine as I wind our fingers together. He looks up at me, amber eyes flashing. That molten gold gaze pins me in place like a butterfly.
“It is if it gets me benched,” he rumbles. “I saw what happened to Emerson. He’s great off the ice, but me? I would make a terrible coach.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it.
It hits me then. Erik is worried about losing his place on the team by having to wait out a serious injury. I could tell him until I’m blue in the face that it won’t happen, but we both know better. Missing too many games is a death sentence for any professional athlete’s career.
“Maybe it isn’t that bad,” I start. “What if —”
“I won’t risk it.” He interrupts in a tone that leaves no room for argument.
Then he’s moving again, those long legs moving at a brisk pace while he tries to outrun his injury by pretending everything is alright. He walks through the changing room without stopping, pushing through the double glass doors and heading straight toward the jogging path that leads to the residential neighborhood on The Nest campus.
I take off behind him, scrambling to keep up. Erik’s house is the first in a row of two-story brick colonials set along the tree-lined path that leads back to the practice arena.
“Hey. Hey!” I stomp up the drive behind him, the concrete cold beneath my socks. “You stubborn asshole. We’re not done!”
Erik whirls and tries to grab me again, but I’m ready this time. I duck under his arms and tackle him around the waist. It doesn’t move him an inch, of course. I’d have to weigh twice as much and train twice as hard to even nudge this mountain of a man.
But my fingers dip down, my thumb resting lightly over the inside of his thigh. There’s a sudden hiss above me, an intake of breath so sharp it cuts through everything.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I frown at the tiny sound of pain. “Groin strain, right? That’s no joke, Erik.”
I look up into his face and it hits me. In my determination to get Erik to admit the truth, I pushed along on instinct. But now I’m standing with my hand on his inner thigh, staring into Erik’s amber gaze. Heat suffuses my body. His heat. Even through layers of clothes, I can feel it.
Erik’s cock is hard, straining down the length of his pants. Restrained, but barely. I snatch my hand back like I just burned it on a hot stove. I swallow in a suddenly dry mouth as every drop of moisture in my body heads south for the winter.
Erik reaches down and tips my chin up with one big finger.
“Yes, Payton.” He answers my question— and the one I haven’t asked yet. “There are a lot of things I can’t do right now. Things I want, very much, to do. Do you understand now?”
Suddenly, a lot of things make sense.
I can feel the heat creeping up my cheeks. I’m no wilting violet— I’ve been in too many locker rooms for that. But something about Erik’s smoldering gaze is making my entire body blush. I can feel the heat spreading out from my core, licking along my skin like roaring flames.
“Oh,” I say simply as the fight drains out of me. “I thought maybe it was Sawyer? Or my job? Or, you know—” I swallow hard. “I thought maybe you just didn’t like me like that.”
Erik slowly raises an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk.
“Like you? No. I do not like you, Payton.” He laughs, but there’s nothing but fire in his eyes. “I long for you. I ache for you.”
My heart thunders in my ears as Erik goes on.
“The pain of this —” he grabs my hand and presses it against his strained inner thigh “ — is nothing compared to the pain of this.”
His hand shifts, dragging mine over to the bar of steel that is his constrained dick. Fuck, he’s thick. Long. I instantly want to spring it free of its terrible confinement. My pussy is plotting a jailbreak, and it’s already baked the file into my cake.
“But —” he snarls, an animalistic sound that sends a shiver down my spine and a flood of desire down my thighs. “I can’t. We can’t.”
When I don’t answer, Erik drags a hand through his hair, muttering something in Swedish below his breath. I have no idea what he says, but it sounds as filthy as I feel. When he speaks again, his accent is thicker, his speech heavy with the weight of desire.
“You noticed my issues on the ice—” Erik’s golden eyes are alight with lust and willpower. “They’d follow us to the bedroom, Payton. I can’t— I wouldn’t be able to perform right now. Not the way you deserve.”
I bite my bottom lip and I stare, unable to form words yet. Erik has been the object of my every fantasy since I first laid eyes on him. Hearing him confess that he wants me to is almost too much to bear. My hand squeezes instinctively around the steel bar in his pants.
He groans, and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. I need more of that. I need to make this man lose all control.
“Erik, you’re a fucking idiot,” I snort, narrowing my eyes as I drag my fingers over him.
His eyes widen in shock, his mouth opens to say something — and he groans again as I give him a harder squeeze.
“My stick handling isn’t bad, right?” I ask coyly.
He doesn’t answer with words, but actions.
His mouth crushes against mine, his lips full of savage, primal hunger. It’s a rough kiss, greedy in all the best ways. I melt against him, opening my mouth to slide my tongue against his. We kiss like we do everything else: back and forth, bordering on a fight.
For once, it’s a fight I’m happy to lose.
He scoops me up, and I want to protest, but I can’t. My pussy is driving now— and she’s doing 90 with the top down.
Erik carries me inside his place. It’s as spartan as my own. Not somewhere to live, but a rest stop. Not a home, but a house. There isn’t much in the living spaces beyond a television and one long sectional couch.
The only exception is the bed.
Dominating the middle of Erik’s spacious master bedroom, the four-poster mahogany frame is filled with a thick mattress and piles of soft, warm blankets. It’s huge, sturdy, and luxurious— the perfect fit for a man like Erik.
My Viking throws me onto the bed without another word. I land hard and bounce twice. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s exactly the right amount of rough that I’ve always craved.
He fixes me with another one of those piercing looks. Nailed in place, I can’t help but squirm for him.
“Are you sure about this, Payton?” Erik asks, patient as ever. “We can stop now. We can wait until I’m fully healed.”
I shake my head, unable to find words in my dry throat. My bottom lip is swollen from kissing Erik and gnawing away at it nervously. Being around the sexiest man alive will do that to you, I guess.
“I want as much of you as I can take, Nordstrom.” My voice is as shaky as the rest of me, but I can’t stop talking. It’s a confession, spilling out of me as I gaze up at my would-be priest. “I’ve ruined every pair of panties I’ve worn around you. I can’t think around you, can’t stop craving the things you’ve promised.”
His brow furrows.
“I haven’t promised anything,” he says, crossing his arms across his big chest.
I narrow my eyes at him, cocking my head to the side.
“Every argument we’ve ever had— every time I annoyed you by being right. This is how you wanted it to end. What we both wanted.” I shrug, but there’s nothing casual about it. “Even today, out there on the ice, this is what you were thinking of, wasn’t it? Me, in your bed, begging.”
Erik’s nostrils flare as he sucks in a huge breath. He uncrosses his arms before reaching down to pull his shirt off. Fuck, he’s huge. He doesn’t have a barrel for a chest, he’s got a whole fucking tank. Instinctively I spread my legs, my own hands dropping down to fumble with the hem of my shirt.
“No.”
No is a complete sentence, but it’s a damn frustrating one.
“Why not?” I ask.
Insecurity flirts with me. I like my body, but I know I’m not every guy’s idea of perfection. Maybe Erik doesn’t want to see all of me?
“Because, Payton. If you take your clothes off, I won’t be able to stop myself.” His mouth is a hard line as Erik’s eyes drag across my body in the middle of his bed. “I’ll have to fuck you— injury or not. And that will only make it worse.”
Ok, scratch that insecurity.
“Alright,” I move my hands off my clothes and watch the show. “That might be the wildest line I’ve ever heard, but damn was it hot.”
Erik holds my eyes while he strips the rest of his clothes off slowly. It isn’t quite a striptease, but he’s not rushing, either. It’s slow and deliberate. The way he does everything. Methodical.
He’s watching my eyes, so he sees them dip down to his cock.
There are a lot of words that come to mind. Big. Thick. Monster. But the one that escapes my lips is—
“Perfect,” I breathe it out like a prayer.
Because I’m still staring, I see his cock jump, bobbing up and down. The veins crisscrossing it are standing out so much that I want to trace them with my tongue.
My eyes cut back up to Erik’s, seeing the smirk there. Well, he certainly has a body worth being smug about. He summons me with a crook of his finger, like a king or a pharaoh or a chief. I go willingly, eager to get my hands on him.
“I’m glad you’re hurt,” I tell him honestly, looking up at his eyes.
He frowns again, that same look of consternation appearing. It gives me a little thrill every time I confuse him. It’s scoring another point in a game we’ve been playing since we met.
“Why?” he asks.
“Because there’s no way I could take this tonight,” I reach out and grasp his cock with both hands. “You’re huge.”
The first thing I think is heavy. His cock has weight to it, a heft I wasn’t expecting. Toys and my fingers don’t have that same feeling. His skin is softer and warmer than I expected, but his steel core is as hard as ice.
He snorts, shaking his head.
“You flatter me. I’m not that much bigger than average,” he says.
I bite my lip as I move my face closer to him. I can feel the heat radiating off of him like a blast furnace, his chest pumping like a bellows, feeding it and making it flare.
“I wouldn’t know. I’m a virgin, Erik.”
He’s groaning before I press my lips to the head of his cock. It’s as swollen as the rest of him, and already a perfect pearlescent drop is forming at the tip.
He tastes better than he looks.
“Payton,” he groans.
My name on his lips is almost enough stimulation by itself. The whole situation is too hot, like some sort of dirty fever dream as I move one hand to the base of him and start exploring his body with the other.
His stomach ripples as I lick and suck at him. I can feel the muscles bunching beneath his skin, the barely restrained power. I caught him off guard with my confession, and now he’s playing nice.
I don’t want that.
“Come on, Erik. Don’t go all nice on me now,” I murmur as I trail kisses down one side of his shaft and back up the other.
His hands are opening and closing, his big fists aimlessly resting at his sides. He doesn’t know what to do with them, caught between his instincts and his desire not to hurt me.
“If I wanted sweet, I’d ask Sawyer to set me up with one of his Boy Scout friends,” I tell him.
He huffs out a breath, his mouth twisting up in that damn smile.
“No.” Something hot and primal flashes in his eyes. “This pretty little mouth that you love to run? It belongs to me now, Payton.”
He reaches over and brushes his thumb across my bottom lip. I take his thumb in my mouth and give it a quick suck before popping it free. My hand never stops sliding up and down the length of his cock. It’s a good thing I am used to a workout because it’s a long stroke.
“Open,” he commands.
His hand guides me to him, pressing his cockhead past my lips. It’s gentle, but firm.
I can feel my jaw straining as I open as wide as I can. One of my hands stays stroking him, but the other dips down the front of my pants.
“Naughty girl,” Erik croons. “Does sucking my big cock make you want to touch yourself?”
I pull him free with a wet, lewd pop that echoes in the room. The sound of it makes his dick leap in my hand, almost as if it has a mind of its own.
“Yes. I need you so much I can barely think straight,” I tell him honestly, working his cock as I do.
I press it against my face, rubbing his slick cockhead against my cheeks.
“You don’t need to think,” he growls, his deep voice making my pussy spasm beneath my fingers. “You just need to suck.”
I moan as I take him back in my mouth. His hands finally do what I’ve been anticipating and tangle in my hair. He slips them down to the base of my skull and holds me firmly. Not a sharp, painful pull but a firm tug that inches him deeper and deeper.
I gag, coughing as I pull off of him. His eyes are still on mine, burning with desire. I’m glad he never looked at me like that before, or I’d have been on my knees weeks ago.
“Are you ok?” He asks, his voice suddenly soft with concern.
“I can take it,” I tell him, insistent. My eyes are watering, but so’s my cunt. “I want you, Erik. I want to snap that self-control like a rubber band.”
Then I reach around behind him with one hand, grab his firm ass, and pull myself forward as far as I can manage. He hits the back of my throat and keeps going, cutting off breathing, thinking, everything but desire.
You could take my pulse in my pussy. It throbs with need as I work frenzied circles into my clit. I come before he does, but only just. The orgasm is still ripping through me as he pulls back.
Erik’s heavy balls jerk up as he pumps my mouth full. I swallow and swallow endlessly, greedily draining him dry. All the while he looks at me, a dozen thoughts and emotions flitting across his face as he groans his release. He looks shocked and amazed at me as I pull my hand off his ass and pump my hand up and down his shaft, making sure I get every last drop.
“If I’m yours,” I catch my ragged breath and look up into his handsome face. “Then that makes you mine, Erik Nordstrom. That makes all of you mine.”
His eyes are burning into me as I give the head of his cock a wet kiss.
“Even if I’m broken?” Erik asks after a long beat.
His voice is a hushed whisper. There’s a world of emotions in his quiet question— and none of them are good.
I take his hands in mine, bringing them to my mouth and kissing first his palms, and then his fingers.
“These don’t feel broken to me.”