Chapter 8
EIGHT
JULIAN
We’d ridden to the stadium, had a walk-through, and while the players worked their pre-game routines, Coach evaluated my player development knowledge.
The problem was, I couldn’t focus while Volkov dressed for the game and ran through his stretches.
His body was a thing of beauty, and after tasting him, I found myself addicted.
“Julian, eyes over here.” Coach stood beside me at the end of the locker room, snapping his fingers. “I asked you about Gagnon.”
I cut my gaze from Volkov, pulling his jersey over his head, and focused on Coach Henderson.
“Yeah, the new goalie. I think you should play him for at least half the game today and maybe for two entire periods. We need to assess his skills and decide if we want to work him in tandem with Ace during the season. I’ve heard his consistency improved a lot last year.
” It had helped to sit with Crosby and Little Hopkins at breakfast.
“My thoughts exactly.” He patted my shoulder. “You’re coming along, Mercer.”
“Thanks.” I returned my watchful eye to Volkov.
I sat in the press box with some of the other game-day personnel. It was my job to track shots on net, goals, and penalties with our statistician, giving a second pair of eyes and an elevated view of the game.
Coach began with the rookies and several guys from the AHL affiliate. They were unfamiliar to me, so I had to keep finding their jersey numbers on the roster to see who they were. I typed into my laptop, resting on my lap, when the horn blew.
“Goal.” Jenkins, a team statistician, said, sitting beside me. “Did you clock that? It was Addison.”
“Oh, okay.” I logged the goal. This was relatively boring. I’d rather be behind the bench with Coach Henderson, hearing what orders he was barking at the team.
During the second period, Volkov took to the ice and sped toward the puck.
I sat on the edge of my seat. I’d seen him skate before, but in a game, he appeared twice as fast and three times as agile.
As Volkov stole the puck from a Vegas forward, he shifted to break away from the boards.
A Vegas D-man charged his left and slammed him against the glass.
“Fuck.” With my pulse kicking, I stood up. Was he hurt? Why were they hitting so hard in a preseason game?
Volkov struck the ice, falling onto his side. After rolling around for a moment, he hopped onto his skates and sped toward the Coyotes’ goal and Gagnon, preparing to block a shot.
“He’s okay.” Blowing out a long breath, I dropped into my chair.
“Don’t worry about Volkov. The guy is tough as nails,” Jenkins said, peering into his laptop screen and typing.
Judging by the way he’d returned to the game after the hit, Jenkins was correct. “He sure is.” Volkov could also be surprisingly tender and endearing. I clenched my hand into a fist. I was not falling for him. I was not. We had a purely sexual relationship, and it needed to stay that way.
By the end of the second period, it was clear Volkov wasn’t playing as well as he should, and Coach Henderson pulled him from the ice, leaving Big Hopkins and Jarvis to play with a rookie winger.
We were down by a point, and though Volkov had plenty of shots on goal, he’d failed to land even one on Vegas’s backup goalie.
I swung my gaze to the bench and Volkov, rounding his back and hanging his head.
He wasn’t happy. Leaning toward Jenkins, who had direct communication with Coach Henderson via his headset, I asked, “Did Coach Henderson take Volkov out because he’s not playing well? ”
With a quick nod, he said, “Yeah, he’s seen enough. Let’s hope it’s just preseason rust he needs to work off.” He gave me a knowing look.
Was it my fault? Had I somehow upset the pregame routine Volkov had perfected?
No, that was stupid. Missing one nap shouldn’t have hurt him this much…
right? I gnawed at my lower lip. Except, would Volkov blame his performance on me?
What if he wanted to put distance between us now?
My gut knotted. He wouldn’t do that. We had an arrangement.
After the game, we boarded our charter flight to San Jose. Our flight included a catered meal, and we’d stay at the Hotel Valencia in the Santana Row district of San Jose. I’d called ahead to be sure I had a reservation this time. But I’d be happy to spend the night with Volkov again…
I’d slept on the plane, and after landing, they bussed us to the hotel. I’d sat beside Jenkins on the ride and listened to him prattle on about tonight’s stats. Some rookies looked promising.
When the bus arrived at the hotel, I peeked out the bus window at the Mediterranean-style architecture with Spanish colonial influences, the iron-railed balconies, and red-tiled roofs. The street pulsed with life, as expected on a Saturday night.
“Okay, time to go.” Jenkins rose beside me, hefting his laptop bag over his shoulder, and made his way down the center aisle.
I followed him into the hotel lobby and lost him among the players, already assembled and waiting for keys. I scanned the lobby, across marble floors and the dark wood accents on the walls. Where was Volkov? I hadn’t had time to speak with him at all after the game.
Standing under a massive iron chandelier, stood Volkov, next to both Hopkins brothers and Jarvis.
I should speak with him and check his feelings after that game. As I stepped toward him, our travel coordinator ushered us all into a conference room down the hallway.
The coordinator walked around the room, handing out keys. “Mr. Mercer? Here’s your key. You’re in room number 302.” She handed me the envelope with the key inside.
“Thank you.” I touched her shoulder as she turned toward Jenkins. “Hey, uh, what room is Volkov staying in?” I arched a brow. I’d find him after we settled in.
“Oh…” She glanced toward him, her lips pursing. “He’s in room 304, right next door to you.”
As a grin pulled at my lips, I said, “Great, thanks again.” Well, this would make things easy.
With a glance at Alex, I hoisted the strap of my laptop bag onto my shoulder and made my way to my room.
I’d give Alex half an hour and then check in with him.
Since we’d already had a game and had traveled, there was nothing else on the agenda for tonight.
I checked my phone for the time. I’d unpacked and changed into a team shirt and joggers, and half an hour had passed.
It was time to see Alex. After leaving my room, I checked the hallway, which was clear, and stepped to his door.
The guys were probably all exhausted from the game and retiring early. I knocked.
“Yeah?” Alex’s muffled voice filtered through the door.
“It’s me,” I whispered against the doorjamb. Could he even hear me?
The door swung open. “What are you doing out here?” Snatching my arm, he hauled me into the room. “Is anyone else in the hallway?” He shut the door and planted his hands on his hips.
“No, everyone’s in bed.” Biting my lip, I ran my gaze across his bare, muscled chest and down to his sweats, his satisfying bulge on full display. “My, you look, uh, tasty.” What was I here for again? My cock roused. I had him this afternoon, but apparently, it hadn’t been enough.
“Are you here for sex?” With a coy grin, he grabbed my wrist and led me into the room. “I might be interested in that after my fucked-up performance today.”
He turned, revealing a bruise on the lower side of his back. It looked painful. “Hey, are you hurt?” I ambled behind him, and we stopped at the foot of the bed.
“I think Anderson hit me with the butt end of his stick when he checked me into the fucking glass.” He dropped to sit on the end of the bed, spread his legs and pulled me to stand between them, wrapping his arms around my hips.
“I was wondering if you’d gotten hurt when that happened. Jenkins told me you were tough as nails and not to worry about it.” I combed my fingers through his bangs as he peeked up at me, and my heart wavered. God, he was gorgeous. “Should you ice it?”
“Already did, but I’m sort of glad you were worried about it.” He lifted the hem of my athletic shirt and placed soft kisses on my stomach. “I played like shit tonight. It was awful.”
“Yeah, your stats weren’t great. Coach pulled you from the game early, didn’t he?” As my cock thickened, I pushed on his chest and straddled him, sitting in his lap as he shifted back on the bed.
“He did. I couldn’t even sink a goal against their backup goalie.” He slipped his hands under my joggers and underwear to grab my ass. “Fuck, you have a nice ass, Julian.”
“Yeah? Maybe I’ll let you fuck me sometime.
” He’d said he’d only done hand jobs and blow jobs with guys, so he hadn’t done anal.
“If you want.” Bending down, I cupped his cheeks and claimed him in hungry kisses while heat burned across my skin.
I came here to check on him. But since he’d given me more, I’d enjoy it.
“You’d do that?” He nibbled on my chin and placed soft bites on my neck.
“I would. I’m vers, so either way is great for me.” Tilting my head back, I grabbed his nape as he kissed and licked across my chest. Rocking my hips, my solid cock rubbed against his rippled abs. Fucking hell, he really did it for me.
“I might, uh, I might take you up on that offer.” With a groan, he gripped my ass tighter as he flicked my nipple with his tongue.
As pleasure sparked from my chest to my dick, I gasped and a shudder rolled through my body, spilling precum into my briefs. “I’m on PrEP. But we can still use condoms.” I’d make it perfect for him when the time was right.
He halted, and his gaze rose to mine. “I’m on it, too.”
My brows swept up. “Y-you are?” How many guys was he hooking up with besides me? He wasn’t even having penetrative sex with them, so why—
“Yeah, I’m extra cautious with my health.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe we don’t need condoms?” Reaching inside my crack, he nudged a finger against my hole.