HOT ICE: Complete Sporting Romance Series

by Lily Harlem

  “Here, oh yeah, just here. Fuck me here, Matthew.”

  His legs parted farther, and there it was. I got the briefest glimpse of his finger skimming over the dot of his anus before his butt clenched, his hips arched off the sofa and long pearly strings of cum shot from the head of his dick and splattered onto his stomach.

  I couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe. Each heartbeat was like a roll of thunder. My orgasm was there, sharp and desperate. Every muscle in my body tensed and my ribs expanded fully. In one almighty surge, semen rushed up my cock, releasing all that bliss I’d been storing. “Oh, yes, yes,” I hissed, jet after jet of warmth landing on my abdomen.

  I stared at Todd’s image as I gulped in air. He, too, had a shiny mess on his stomach. He was still clutching his cock and his hair had flopped forward messily.

  “That was fucking awesome,” he said, his flushed face cracking into a grin.

  “Yeah, I’ve never had so much fun on my own in a hotel room.”

  He laughed, reached for his underwear and wiped it across his stomach, scooping up the mess dripping around his navel. “Everything we do blows my mind,” he said breathlessly.

  I left my cum on my stomach, enjoying the feeling of it cooling in the air- conditioning. “And we haven’t even got to the best bit yet.”

  His heavy blue eyes settled on mine. “We’re getting near, though, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah. We are, very near.”

  A muscle flexed in his cheek.

  “And,” I said, “I’m going to make it so good for you, Todd. When I put my dick inside you for the first time it will be fucking incredible.”

  He nodded and pulled at his still semi-erect cock.

  “Don’t be scared.”

  His eyelids grew heavy and his gaze captured mine. “I’m not. I know you’ll make it special.”

  “It’s not just me who will make it special, it’s both of us. Being together.”

  His shoulders relaxed a little more and he sighed. “You’ll call tomorrow night?”

  “You can count on it.”

  *****

  The next day of shooting in the desert was every bit as arduous as the first. The heat was intense and everyone cantankerous. To make things worse, I spoke to Todd only briefly that night because he was at his father’s and they were just starting on their second movie of the evening.

  He sounded positive and upbeat despite the fact there’d been even more gossip all over the Internet about his sexuality and questions of my identity. National and international papers were all over the story, the reporters having a wild time with their sensational headlines. More gay groups had joined in the debate as well as several prominent sports personalities, a mixture of for and against gay athletes.

  Before I checked out of Caesar’s on Wednesday morning, he called me. “They know who you are,” he said.

  “Who does?”

  “The press. I’m sorry, Matthew, I was hoping this stuff about your identity would blow over and they’d find another story to follow. But they’re like Rottweilers, once they get their teeth into something, they just don’t fucking let go.”

  He sounded so distressed, his voice hard and sharp.

  “It’s okay, chill.” I looked out the window at the white-hot Vegas sky.

  “You’re on the front cover of the New York Post. There’s a biography of you and stuff about your work and the exhibition this weekend. I should never have dragged you into this shit.”

  “Calm down, I knew what I was in for.” I paused. “Besides, so what if I’m on the front cover of the New York Post? It’s only for today and tomorrow it’ll be old news. Now they know who I am there’ll be something, someone else for them to obsess about.” I sounded calmer than I was. The thought of my face on the front page of a newspaper was unnerving. I wasn’t as used to public attention as Todd was.

  “Yeah, I guess.” He sounded placated but still tense and worried

  “Besides, the publicity might even benefit my exhibition.

  “Do you think?”

  “Yeah, lots of the images feature gay romance and some in the second wave gay erotica. If the press decide to run stories on those images it’ll be free publicity.” I laughed to try to further relieve the strain I could hear in his voice. I could just imagine his broad shoulders hunched up around his ears and a frown line plowed between his eyebrows.

  “I hope so. I’d hate to think that I’d done you any damage.”

  “No. We just have to weather the storm and if we can find some positives then that’s only what we deserve.”

  “I’m glad you’re practical. My head’s all over the damn place today.”

  It was the first time I’d heard him anything other than super-confident and bare-boned determined. It made me want to hold him all the more. But I couldn’t, not from here, and I had to accept that. “Just as well you’re not playing until tomorrow then. You’ve gotta keep up your performance on the ice. Otherwise it’ll give the press more ammunition.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m going to hit the gym now and burn some of this excess energy driving me nuts.” He paused. “So do you need a date for the launch on Saturday?”

  I hesitated. “Well. I—”

  “That was stupid,” he said. “Forget it.”

  “No, no, too damn right I need a date.” I sat on the edge of the bed. Fuck, the thought of walking into the exhibition with Todd. Being surrounded by my favorite images, being with my best friends and Todd at one of the biggest events of my career. “I’d love you to come with me. There’ll be a ton of press, though. Theodore’s has already organized coverage.”

  “But once there’s no big mystery around us they’ll move on. Once they’ve seen us together for real, asked their questions and taken their photographs, they’ll leave us alone.”

  “Yeah, then we can be old news and just be together.”

  He hesitated. “Matthew, thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For always saying the right thing to me.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” I smiled.

  “I swear this is the longest week of my fucking life. Friday can’t come quickly enough.”

  “We’ll be together before you know it. Now make sure you whoop the Penguins’ asses tomorrow.”

  He laughed. “So you’ve finally seen the light.”

  Chapter Twelve

  My flight back to New York was mercifully less bumpy, though I couldn’t help feeling at odds knowing Todd was flying away from New York as I was coming in.

  As soon as I landed, Theodore’s called.

  “Hey, Carmen,” I said, pulling on the Caesar’s Palace cap I’d bought from the gift shop and slotting on my shades.

  “Bloody hell, Matthew,” she said in her French accent. “You really know how to drum up business, don’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” I strode past a newsstand, trying and failing not to be affected by seeing my face on the front cover of the New York Post. My heart rate rattled up and a flush settled in the base of my neck. It was weird being on the other side of the lens, it was weirder that the shot they’d used was my Facebook profile picture—one Tony had taken when we were in St. Kitts. Not that I’d used my Facebook account for over a year now. I just didn’t like sharing my every move online.

  “I’ve had the press on the phone all afternoon. Everyone wants an invite to Saturday night and I’ve had to organize more security for the whole event.”

  “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.”

  She laughed, a high-pitched giggle. “Don’t apologize, this is great. Everyone will be talking about you and your work being exhibited at Theodore’s.”

  “Yeah, that and my love life.” I couldn’t help a groan.

  “Of course, but that too is wonderful. Your audience has just multiplied tenfold, probably one thousand-fold. You better get the third wave of pictures planned and sent off as soon as possible. I’ve already been asked for previews and if it’s possible to reserve before t
he opening.”

  “You have?” I strode out the revolving doors into the cold, damp afternoon and grabbed a cab.

  “Oui, I have a good feeling about this, Matthew. Where are you now?”

  “JFK. Hang on a second.” I gave my address to the driver.

  “No, no, don’t go home,” she said, “come straight here, we have things to organize.”

  *****

  Forty minutes later, I was standing in Theodore’s. The gallery was closed and big blackout screens hung at the enormous windows.

  Carmen was smiling and as she spoke her high chestnut ponytail swung. I could almost feel waves of excitement coming from her.

  “So what do you think?” She gestured around the place, her towering heels clicking on the hard tiles as she spun in a circle.

  “Great, more than great.” My pictures were even bigger than I’d thought they would be and looked stunning lit with spotlights. Each one had a small plaque by it giving details of the subject and the date it was taken. The one of Joel and Gareth standing on the beach naked caught my attention. I went up close and studied the pixels. “They did a great job at the printers.”

  “Yes, we have always been more than happy with them.” She joined me in my study, peering forward and scrutinizing the bottom left-hand corner of the canvas. She smelled of coconut and mango, a fruity perfume that made me think of Caribbean holidays.

  “You’ll notice that we’ve sectioned them off.” She straightened and turned around. “Landscapes, people and animals. Though I’ve kept the more risqué ones in this back section. Doesn’t matter too much now but when the second wave comes through you have some that are…” She paused. “Considerably more erotic.”

  I nodded. “Good idea. Viewers can choose what interests them that way.”

  She smiled. “You did tell me how many personal guests you’re bringing to the opening. Has that changed? Do I need to send more VIP invitations?”

  “Er, yeah. There will be five now instead of three. But don’t worry about invitations.”

  She made a strange squeaking noise and rubbed her hands together. “Oh, please tell me one of the extra tickets is for Todd Carty. Please, please.”

  I smiled at the mention of his name. “Yes.”

  “Perfect, I was hoping you would say that. I’ve made some alterations to the timings that will make the evening go with more of a bang. Can you arrive at seven instead of six?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Good, it will be much better. We can let the press check out the photography then shoo them outside. When you and Todd are here, in the gallery, it will just be art world press. They’ll be more interested in your work than your relationship. A much better balance.”

  “Good idea.” A wave of relief washed over me that Carmen was so professional.

  “Like I said, I’ve organized extra security so once you’re in here you and Todd won’t be hassled more than you want to be. But you have to get here.” Her face fell serious. “I’ll send a limo to your apartment for you and your guests. When it pulls up outside Theodore’s there will be a roped off, red-carpeted walkway leading to the door and plenty of security lurking about.”

  I burst into laughter. “Red carpet. Don’t you think that’s a bit over the top?”

  She frowned. “No, Matthew. It’s your debut solo exhibition and you’re dating a sports superstar. Red carpet, champagne and press coverage is part of the deal.”

  She looked so perturbed by my amusement that I forced my face to straighten and nodded seriously.

  “So naturally there will be press waiting for you when you arrive,” she said. “Just look your best, smile and answer questions you want to answer and ignore ones you don’t. You can go into technical detail with the journalists I’ve vetted once you’re in. Out there,” she waved toward the door, “it will be a free-for-all, but only for as long as you and Todd want it to be. Just remember, be nice, these guys could make you a million bucks if you play it right.”

  “I’m always nice.”

  “You’re an artist, artists get cranky.”

  I held out my palms. “And when have I been cranky with you?”

  She laughed. “Never, but there is always a first time. Have you seen this?” She walked over to a sleek white desk and dipped into a briefcase. She pulled out a copy of the New York Post.

  “No, but Todd told me about it.”

  “Do you want this copy? It will save you a funny look at a newsstand.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ve read it. There’s nothing much to it. No dirt, as they say. Just some stuff about your work and your relationship with Tony Harding. Nothing else.”

  “There isn’t much else. It’s not as if they’re going to find a load of exes to print quotes from. I’ve haven’t had many relationships.”

  She put her hand on my arm. “So this is serious, with Todd?”

  I looked down at her. Studied the way she had attached a whole other layer of eyelashes over her real ones. “Yeah, it’s serious.”

  “I’m delighted for you. Really I am.” She grinned. “I can’t wait to meet him on Saturday and I really can’t wait to see what people make of your work. Your pictures are sensational.”

  *****

  I wore my cap and shades the next afternoon when I walked to Rizzles. Raymond hugged me as soon as I stepped through the door. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yeah, course I am.” I plucked off the shades and took my usual perch at the end of the bar. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “You sure?” He looked disbelieving.

  “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not a shock to anyone who knows me that I’m in a gay relationship.”

  “I know, but you’re in a relationship with Todd Pretty Carty. That’s big news.”

  “For crying out loud, don’t call him that.”

  “I won’t to his face.”

  I tutted then nodded hello to Joel, who was serving at the other end of the bar.

  Gareth appeared. “Hey, I was wondering if you’d be here to watch the game.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” I said. “Haven’t seen him all week because of the fucking trip to Vegas.”

  “How was Vegas?” Raymond asked.

  “Shit. I hate the place.”

  He sighed as though exasperated with me. “You go to these glamorous locations, Matthew, and you just don’t appreciate it.”

  “It’s work. It pays the bills. It wasn’t a holiday.”

  “Well you won’t need to work if you stay with Todd. He must be loaded.”

  “I’m sure he is, but I’ve always looked after myself financially. I’m not about to change that now, am I?”

  Joel plonked a beer in front of me. “What time does it start?”

  I glanced at my watch. “Now. Turn it up.”

  “Here.” He passed me the controls and I cranked up the volume on the plasma TV hanging on the end wall. There were a dozen or so other patrons, mostly faces I recognized, the usual suspects, and all heads turned to the screen.

  The commentator was excitedly reeling off player names as they fired from the tunnel onto the ice.

  “Colin is still coming on Saturday,” Raymond said.

  I turned to him and smiled, clinked the base of my bottle of beer with his wine, suddenly feeling mean for being short-tempered with him. “Yeah, I got your text and that’s great news. I told Theodore’s there’d be an extra two guests on my list.”

  “Two?” He widened his eyes.

  “Yeah, Colin and Todd.”

  “Todd’s coming. Oh, fan-fucking-tastic.” He did an excited jiggle on his seat. “Finally we get to meet the man who has stolen our Matthew’s heart.”

  I grinned as excitement bloomed in my chest. I hoped that when Todd met my friends those last bolts of fear would fall away. I didn’t want to feel scared anymore.

  “There he is,” Gareth said, resting his elbows on the bar. “There’s your man.”

  I glugged back a
mouthful of beer and studied Todd circling the arena. Head down, back stooped, stick at the ready. The crowd was cheering, music was playing. The Penguins logo was flashing over the ice.

  “And this is the one we’ve all been waiting for,” the commentator shouted. “The Rangers have been kicking butt lately and will the Penguins be able to hold on to their four-game winning streak?”

  I tried to listen to the noise behind the commentary. Hear if there was any reaction to Todd from the crowd. The Rangers fans were going wild in one small section of the stadium. The camera panned over their eager faces and then shot to the opposition fans. A whole heap of yelling and fevered excitement was going on and there also seemed to be some chant coming from the back corner. I couldn’t make out what it was exactly but “Carty” was definitely one of the words.

  “They’ll thrash ’em,” Joel said.

  “You reckon?” Gareth gave a frown.

  “Yeah, they’ve got Carty, don’t they?”

  “He’s playing well,” I said. “I just hope all the crap that’s gone down this week in the papers hasn’t distracted him.”

  “Do you think it will?” Joel looked genuinely concerned. “The Rangers need him to be on his game.”

  “Nah, he’s been more worried about his father and me,” I said. “But he’s spent time with his dad and I’ve done my best to reassure him.”

  “So you think he’ll be able to get his head into the zone then?” Joel asked, twiddling his thumbs together. “Even with that chanting going on?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. It’s what he’s trained to do. I’m just glad Gatsby’s not playing. It might have got ugly then.”

  “Why?” Gareth asked.

  I laughed. “Because I told Todd I fancied him.”

  “You idiot,” Raymond said, smacking my shoulder. “You’ve got the hottest athlete on the planet in your bed and you tell him you fancy Sid Gatsby. You need your head checked.”

  “Well, that’s not quite how it happened.”

  There was a sudden cheer on the screen and a whoop from patrons in the bar. I glanced at the scoreboard. The Rangers had scored in the first minute of the game.