Behind the Net: a grumpy sunshine hockey romance

“FUCK,” Jamie mutters again, jaw tightening.

Lust and affection weave together in my chest as I stroke him, watching his focused frown. Jamie’s so special, and he deserves to be taken care of the way he takes care of everyone else. And with the expression on his face right now, so trusting and desperate for me?

I love this guy so much.

His hands sink into his own hair as I play with his length. His cock is undeniably perfect—thick and long, smooth and hard, and when I lick the liquid off the end, more appears.

“You’re going to wear my jersey while you suck my cock.” He says it like he can’t believe it, and I smile again.

“Yep.”

I slide my lips around him, watching his eyes gleam with intensity and focus. He’s thick in my mouth, a snug fit, and my intimate muscles squeeze. I take his length as far as I can before my cheeks hollow out with suction, and his head falls back with a tortured groan.

I smile around him before I do it again. Slow, so slow. I know he’s had blowjobs before, but that flame in my chest that’s gotten brighter these past few months wants this to be the best fucking blowjob of Jamie Streicher’s life.

I suck Jamie’s cock at an agonizing pace. I want him to think about this one for a long time.

“Songbird, you’re killing me here.” His voice is guttural, and torturing him is making me wet all over again.

“You said slower, earlier.”

He huffs out a sharp, pained laugh. “Fuck.”

I keep my pace slow and steady, running my tongue over his tip each time I pull back before taking him all the way to the back of my throat.

He groans, and his fingers settle in my hair, so gentle but flexing each time I add suction. “Jesus fuck. This is going to make me come so hard.” His gaze falls to my jersey. “You sucking my cock while wearing my jersey is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Pleasure twists through me, and I smile around him. I love this. I love making him feel this way. I love having this man at my mercy.

He lets out a low moan, and he pulses in my mouth. I don’t speed up, though. I just keep this pace, keep taking him to the back of my mouth, keep dancing my tongue over him. The noises he makes are incredible—low moans of anguish like he’s wounded, like he’ll never recover from this.

“Yes,” he gasps, moaning again, watching me with fascination. “Yes. Now. Going to come, Pippa.”

My gaze is encouraging as I hum in approval, and he tenses, abs rippling.

“Fuck, baby, fuck. Yes,” he grits, spilling salty liquid into my mouth. His fingers twitch against my scalp. “Pippa. Fucking love this.”

He fills my mouth and I swallow it down. He watches like I’ve stolen his soul, and he’s not even mad about it. He pulls back, heaving for air, gaze still on me as I drag my finger over my lips, catching any spillover.

In a rush, he hauls me to my feet, and his mouth is on mine, tongue stroking into me, hands in my hair, walking me back to the bed.

“So fucking good,” he growls against my mouth between kisses. “That’s the hardest I’ve ever come. My legs are shaking. Get this off.” He lifts the jersey over my head before he lowers us to the bed and tucks me into his chest, one arm under me and one locking around me.

We look at each other for a long moment.

I want to say it, but now that we’re in this, the thought of losing him terrifies me. I know he’d never do any of the things that Zach did, but there’s no guarantee what we have right now won’t fade away one day. Telling him I love him would make a breakup so much worse. I’m frozen like I’m standing on a crumbling cliff, rocks breaking off around me, and any sudden movement will bring the whole thing down.

Tomorrow, we drive up to Whistler for the charity gala. I can picture it—his hand on my lower back, the private smile he reserves just for me. My heart aches. I want it to be real and forever.

Jamie’s eyes flicker with an emotion I can’t pin down.

“I want to tell you something,” he murmurs.

My heart stutters.

“I—” He stops himself, searching my eyes.

I wait, and it feels like I’m standing on that cliff edge again, clinging to it. I’m equal parts terrified and excited at whatever is about to fall out of his mouth.

He blinks like he’s pulling himself back, reining it in. “I’m really looking forward to going to the gala with you.”

Even if that asshole is there, we’re both not saying.

“Me too,” I whisper.

His lips press to my forehead, and we fall asleep like that.