I can feel his energy…his thrust…his possessiveness as he claims me as his own.
“Take me,” I scream, unaccountable for myself or what happens on from this point forward.
I feel those thick digits of his lock on to my waist as he slides me up and down horizontally on his rod as I ride him.
He’s too big for me and even though he goes deep I can feel that he’s not balls deep. I only felt a tinge of pain when he first entered me, but that was immediately washed away by the feeling of pleasure and the thankfulness that he doesn’t thrust with everything he has.
But he knows me and he loves me and he knows he can claim me without going too far, although when I look up at him and see the look on his face I realize he’s damn near as gone as I am.
When his pupils dilate I know his mind has come back to the present and that he’s going to be coming in another way really soon.
“You feel so good. So perfect. We’re going to make the perfect baby,” he says. “I want that son, but I don’t care. All I care about is that it’s your baby. Our baby. That I’m making it with you.”
I lean forward and try and grab his hips but he’s too powerful and too in control and I know I’m seconds away from losing control myself…again.
“I’m gonna…,” I say as I clench my teeth and feel the wave forming again knowing what comes next because he’s already showed me the way just minutes before. He held my hand and led me through that process, even though I still haven’t fully processed what’s happening between us. The depth of our connection and the depth with which I’m able to accept him.
I feel his thrust deepen slightly and his fingers dig in more as he suddenly stops.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck,” he says and I suddenly explode covering his cock as he fills me with his own climax.
Our bodies twitch in time together like a dance of destiny as we stare into each other’s eyes as our souls are bared and our most vulnerable emotions are on full display for the other.
As this continues for another five, then ten, then fifteen seconds, before finally another tremor, and aftershock, and a final milking of his cock where I take everything from inside him and accept his superior swimmers into me so deep I swear they need a scuba suit.
And then he collapses, right on top of me and I feel the bed bounce slightly as the cherry wood headboard makes contact with the wall as his chest heaves against mine pinning me to the mattress.
“Stay right there,” I say.
“I’m smothering you.”
“I like your weight. I like the feel of it. And I like the feel of your chest going up and down knowing you’re searching for air because I took your breath away.”
“You damn sure did,” he says. “And my body weight isn’t the only way I can smother you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Just watch me smother you with these kisses,” he says as he covers my face in gentle kisses for seconds that turn to minutes which turn into hours of both lovemaking and steaminess until the sun comes up.
And every time my body wanted him last night he came up, and rose to the occasion.
And when he leaves for the morning walkthrough at the stadium he gives me a kiss on the forehead as I hop in the shower.
And when I hop out I find a note with a rose on top.
I open it and all it says is one word.
Mine.
And he’s right and I’ll never forget it…the magical night when I became his and he became mine in Montreal.
And I just wonder how many more cities will claim us with their romantic charms as we claim each other all night long.
And the best part is that’s an unknown adventure that we’ll explore together, as we continue to explore each other as our love grows stronger and stronger.
And my stomach grows bigger and bigger…with our first baby.
It’s not a matter of if…just a matter of when.
And how often because we both want a big family to cherish and enjoy and explore this incredible world with us.
As our own little team. Together.
EPILOGUE
Hazel
Nine months later
The last nine months have flown by.
But these next two minutes are going to take forever.
It’s game seven of the Stanley Cup finals and the Gotham Guardians are clinging, by the skin of their teeth at a one to one tie with two minutes left in regulation here at T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas in front of seventeen thousand five hundred screaming hockey obsessed fanatics.
And that’s just the official count. I swear a few people have snuck in as there are people standing in the aisles and walkways. You can feel the energy as people are stomping and jumping trying to propel none other than the Boston Bears to a last second victory which is looking highly probable now that the ref has sent not one, but two Guardians skaters off the ice.
The Bears aren’t just on a power play, where one team has more men on the ice then the other, but they’re on a two-man advantage or a five to three, which is nearly a death sentence against a high quality team like the Bears.
And to make matters worse I swear the ref is getting paid off for those two penalties he called. I’m starting to become very suspicious of the fact that we’re in Vegas and he called a roughing penalty on us when there was a clear embellishment, or diving, penalty that should have been called against the other team.
And to make matters worse ten seconds later he calls a hooking penalty when a Bears player wraps himself around the stick of one of our players and pretends like the stick is holding him back.
But this season has been us against the world. And just like all the people who have been trying to drive a spike between my brother and my man, neither of them are having it.
They’ve been professional and great teammates from the start.
And right now my brother is in goal taking shot after shot as my man stands just outside “the crease” by the goalie which allows the goalie the field of view to track the onslaught of shots while my man defends from as well without getting in my brother’s line of sight.
It’s a tricky situation. If my man gets too close my brother won’t be able to see and the other team will likely score easily.
But if my man stays too far away then the five on three skater advantage will allow too many of the opposing teams skaters to get too close to the goal and also score easily.
Not good, but luckily my man is no regular defenseman. He literally taught my brother all his tricks this year and has those eighteen years experience in goal himself.
But the two of them can only do so much.
And right now so much looks a whole lot like everything.
If the Guardians can just defend like madmen for another minute and a half we go to overtime and they get their two players back and maybe, just maybe, we’ve got a chance.
But another minute and a half is an eternity right now as a puck flies through the air and bounces off my brother’s chest only to be shot again off the rebound and only to find his chest again.
It’s like human target practice out there as I wince at what I’m seeing. At this point I’m actually concerned for his safety as the Bears players are able to cock back and really unload some serious slap shots.
“One minute remaining. One minute,” bellows out from the public address announcer.
I cross my fingers on my right hand…and then cross them on the left.
And when I say finger I mean all two sets of crossed on each hands, and then I cross my thumbs for good measure.
“Ma’am, Mr. Magnusson asked me to keep an eye on you and I have to ask you to sit down.”
“I’m fine!” I yell, making me realize I’m completely not.
But I’m due any day now and this stress probably isn’t the best for me, but then again there’s no way I’d ever miss this moment.
The crowd oohs and aahs as shot after shot goes up and gets defended by my brother and my man, but my
brother can’t catch it in his glove, and my man’s not able to clear it meaning the shots just keep raining down.
Suddenly the crowd goes quiet as the center on the other team cocks back for yet another slap shot that will seal victory and just as suddenly Henrik yells something that echoes through the complete silence of the arena and just as the center’s stick comes forward with a force so great I have no idea how his pads can even absorb the shot that’s about to come my brother dives forward out of the goal!
What the heck?
The shot leaves the stick like it was shot out of a cannon and miraculously it makes a beeline right for my brother’s glove!
But he doesn’t catch it, it ricochets right to Henrik!
All the offensive players and defensive players are forward trying to score which gives Henrik a straight shot at the goal.
Time stands still as goose bumps cover every inch of my body and hands all across the stadium come up to cover people’s faces, including mine, as Henrik prepares for his one on one with the goalie.
I sneak a peek at the clock and see three seconds remains just as he crosses center ice.
“Shoot baby! Shoot!” I yell, and as if my words travel straight from my mouth to his ear he cocks his stick back and brings it forward so hard that when he hits the puck his body goes flying horizontally like something reminiscent of another defenseman in a Stanley Cup Finals…Bobby Orr.
But this time the hero isn’t a twenty-two year old for the Boston Bears, it’s the twenty-two year old I grew up with, played G.I. Joe with in the sandbox, went swimming at the beach with, and I’d never tell anyone but the same guy who helped me dress up my dolls when I had no friends.
My brother.
And the man who started the play that has led to that puck flying towards the goal right now!
The goalie raises his glove to catch the puck, and just then the horn sounds signaling the end of regulation.
The goalie brings his glove down to look at it and when he opens it there’s nothing inside.
All eyes go to the back of the net and what is slowly sliding across the ice?
The game-winning goal!
“Get me down there!” I yell to the man who’s in charge of my security. I hate to be demanding, but no way I’m missing this moment with my family.
Five minutes later they’re carefully escorting me onto the ice and suddenly a man from NBC Sports is right there next to us as my man hugs me carefully as my brother hugs me from the other side.
“Wow! What an ending!” the announcer says. “Henrik, can you tell me what this moment means to you?”
“Everything, Steven. Everything,” he says as he gives me a big ol’ kiss right on live television that’s being broadcast in more languages than I can count in more countries than I’ll ever be able to visit in one lifetime.
The announcer turns to my brother.
“Rusty. Wow! What possessed you to dive for that puck? That was the riskiest move I’ve ever seen.”
“It was, but Henrik and I have been practicing that a few times a week all year just in case we found ourselves in a position like this.”
“But there’s no way you could have been expecting it here in the final seconds of game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals.”
“I could have dreamed about it as a kid, but you’re right. I never could have thought about it…until Henrik brought it up a few weeks ago. As a veteran player he told me to always be ready for anything and everything, just like the way he was when I was traded to the team. And without him I never would have had the season I had. His dedication to learning a new position when the team decided to move me into his…I can’t put that into words. He never complained. All he ever did was work harder and harder and show me what it means to be a true professional. He’s really like a brother to me.”
Henrik keeps one arm wrapped around me and with the other takes the microphone from the announcer.
“Rusty, how about instead of being like a brother to you I become a brother to you?”
Henrik pivots on his skate to face me and puts both of his hands behind his neck.
What the heck.
He lifts his hands up and carefully unhooks a platinum chain. He never wears chains.
Then he drops to a knee and as he removes the chain out from underneath his jersey I see there’s a humongous engagement ring on it.
“The longer we’re together the more I realize that things really do happen for a reason. Before the third period I knew our team needed a spark…and I’ve always known that I needed you.”
Every single woman in the place simultaneously says, “Awww.”
“I got this the day that we met because I knew you were the one. I wanted to give it to you right away, but I didn’t want it to feel rushed or forced into our hectic schedules during the season. I wanted the perfect moment. I was waiting for that perfect moment and that perfect moment is now.”
“It’s more than perfect,” I say.
“I decided to put it on first and let it rest against my heart for that last period of hockey because you are my good luck charm as you have been every step of the way…period. Full stop.”
I bring my hands to my face to try and stop the tears but it’s no use.
“Beautiful, I love you and I love us,” he says as he brings a free hand up to rest on my stomach. “This is the happiest moment of my life, not because of what happened, but because I’m able to share it with you. And I want the world to know we’re going to share everything together for the rest of our lives.”
I’m practically balling at this point.
“Everyone at home watching this thinks I’m the luckiest guy in the world right now…and they’re right, but only if you say yes. Because this is the perfect opportunity to show the entire world that you’re mine and only mine. Will you be mine forever. Will you marry me?”
I nod and somehow the microphone is back in the announcer’s hand and close to my face, but not intruding.
“Yes,” I say and hear it echo through the stadium.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I say and the crowd roars just as loud as they did when we won.
Henrik slides the ring on my finger and I use the ice as a convenient excuse to “accidentally” slip and fall right into his arms.
He very, very carefully lifts me high and even more carefully spins me around like we’re the gold medal winning pair skating team at the Olympics just as my brother lifts the Stanley Cup Trophy.
Henrik holds me high as he skates the perimeter of the ice as I extend my hands out like Superwoman as I show the crowd my new ring.
I’ve never felt so much like I was living a real fairy tale in my life until this very moment.
And it’s all because of him and my crazy hockey obsession for my grandiose goalie, my dynamite defenseman, and my perfect partner in life of the ice.
As we skate back around Henrik stops as the announcer continues to interview my brother.
“Just one more thing,” Henrik says. “As of this moment I’m officially retired. We’re going to skate off into the hockey sunset and this time next year we’ll be watching hockey on the couch together…as a family as we satisfy our hockey obsession…together.”
EXTENDED EPILOGUE
Henrik
Ten years later
“Right there, baby. Oh that’s perfect. Oh my god, you’re the best,” I say to my wife as she uses her physio wonders on me as she gets the knots out of my back.
I swear she’s the best physio I’ve ever had and she’s definitely the only person in the world who I’ll allow to lay so much as a finger on my body.
But the best part is now it’s time to lay my fingers all over her.
“Switch places?” I say.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “And can you give my—“
“Legs and hips some extra attention?” I say finishing her sentence.
“At what point did we stop communicating verbally and just do everything telepathically?”
“I’m ready when you are?”
“What am I thinking about right now?” she says as I get up off the massage table and she takes her position.
“How much I love you,” I say. It’s a statement, not a question.
“Okay, daily double Mr. Smarty Pants. What am I—“
Hockey Obsession: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 76) Page 9