Two Man Advantage

by Samantha Wayland

  Rhian’s back arched off the bed, his hands fisting in the sheets, his head thrown back.

  Garrick spread his fingers and a low, fierce whimper tore from Rhian’s throat.

  There it is.

  Garrick smiled and groped for the other item he’d fished from the drawer. At last his fingers curled around the new, smallish butt-plug. It was no wider than one and a half of his fingers and perfectly curved to nail Rhian’s prostate.

  He pulled his fingers from Rhian’s ass and slipped the plug into place.

  Rhian’s groan of disappointment ended with a sharp grunt. His eyes snapped open and he sat up, grabbing Garrick’s arms to hold himself steady.

  “What the fuck is that?”

  Rhian tried to make sense of the sensations storming his body. His ass felt full, but not as much as when Garrick had slid his fingers in and spread them. Now there was a crazy heaviness which it took Rhian some time to recognize as steady pressure on his prostate.

  He blinked and looked up at Garrick.

  “You okay?” Garrick smiled. He appeared quite pleased with himself.

  Rhian nodded slowly. Even that miniscule shifting of his weight sent lightning bolts firing through his body.

  Holy crap, he needed to come so badly, he thought he might suffer permanent damage if he didn’t do it soon. Garrick didn’t look much better off, the head of his erection flushed a deep scarlet that appeared almost painful.

  Rhian fell back on the bed, momentarily blinded by the shockwaves roaring through him. He licked his lips. “Come here,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  Garrick lifted one brow. Generally he was the one in charge—and Rhian had no complaints about that whatsoever—but Rhian was at the end of his rope. He knew what he wanted and he wanted it now.

  Hell, he’d beg for it. “Please.”

  He grabbed Garrick’s thigh and spun him so that they were going in opposite directions.

  Garrick looked at him over his shoulder. “You sure?”

  Was he fucking ever. With another tug, Garrick straddled his head, his mouth hovering above Rhian’s erection, hot breath rushing over the excruciatingly sensitive head.

  Rhian arched his neck and, using one hand to guide him, slid Garrick’s cock all the way down his throat.

  Garrick gripped one of Rhian’s thighs painfully hard. “Oh Jesus Christ, Rhian! Oh, fuck! Oh god! Ohshitshitshit!”

  Rhian couldn’t smile or laugh, but a bubble of pure joy worked its way through his system, joined by surging endorphins as he swallowed around the thick shaft blocking his airway.

  “Rhian!”

  He used both hands to ease Garrick back, sucking in air before he stretched his neck and pulling Garrick down for another deep thrust into his throat.

  Garrick trembled above him, crying out his pleasure. He wrapped his hands around Rhian’s thighs, lifting and spreading them wide, until Rhian’s feet were planted on the mattress and his junk was on display. It felt shameless and wicked. And perfect.

  Then Garrick clutched Rhian’s hips and bore him down into the mattress with his full weight.

  Rhian fell back to the bed, Garrick’s cock springing free from his lips. “Oh! Fuck. Oh—”

  Fuck. The plug shifted, doing unspeakable things deep in his ass. The pressure on Rhian’s prostate was amazing. Intense. As if that wasn’t enough, Garrick chose that moment to slip the head of Rhian’s cock past his soft lips and into the furnace of his mouth. His velvet tongue bathed the crown, whisking away the constant ooze of pre-come.

  Then he bounced Rhian’s ass on the bed again.

  Rhian roared.

  Garrick took up a steady rhythm of shoving Rhian’s plug-jammed ass against the mattress before sucking his cock into his wicked mouth as Rhian bounced back up.

  “Oh Jesus, Garrick.”

  He couldn’t catch his breath. Couldn’t think. He needed a distraction. Something to keep him from coming in the first ten seconds. He threw his elbows out and shoved Garrick’s knees apart until Garrick’s cock was pressed to his lips.

  He didn’t dare try to take Garrick deep, afraid he’d choke or bite when another surge of pleasure swelled up out of his ass. Instead he licked the shaft once, twice, slicking it for his hand before nudging Garrick forward and sucking the tender skin of his sac into his mouth.

  Garrick’s muffled groan vibrated up Rhian’s cock and into his gut.

  Rhian pumped his hand along Garrick’s shaft in time to his bouncing on the bed. He quickly worked a finger into his mouth, wetting it thoroughly, then dragged the tip up the seam of Garrick’s perineum until he found the tight knot of muscle protecting Garrick’s ass.

  Garrick froze. Rhian’s cock slipped from his mouth.

  Shit.

  Rhian wanted to growl, furious with himself. He’d killed the moment.

  Garrick sucked in a deep breath. “Are you going to do it?”

  Rhian stopped pulling his hand away. “Do you want me to?”

  “Fuck. Yes.”

  Rhian tapped against Garrick’s hole one, twice, almost laughing at how Garrick’s entire body twitched with each contact. Then Rhian twisted his finger and groaned when it slipped into Garrick’s tight, hot ass. Garrick groaned, too. He tossed something onto the bed beside Rhian’s head.

  The lube. Rhian smiled.

  Seconds later, his slick finger sank into Garrick to the hilt. Holy fuck, it felt amazing. So tight. So hot.

  Garrick resumed his torture of bounce and suck with a vengeance. Rhian could barely function while Garrick pounded his ass down on the bed, no longer letting Rhian’s cock slip from his lips, but running his tongue along it over and over.

  Rhian shoved his finger farther into Garrick’s ass and thumped Garrick’s prostate soundly.

  Garrick’s long moan bowed Rhian’s spine right off the bed. He desperately tried to stave off his orgasm, clenching his ass and realizing too late that with the plug in, it had the opposite effect.

  He shoved a second finger in with the first.

  Garrick threw back his head and howled Rhian’s name, his full weight grinding Rhian’s ass down on the bed. The arch of Rhian’s spine planted the plug firmly into the mattress and shoved it high in his ass. Ecstasy burned through his veins, lighting him up until his legs shook, his eyes watered, and his balls clenched up tight. From one breath to the next, his climax exploded outward.

  Never in his life had he made a sound like the one that flew from his mouth. His nose buried against Garrick’s balls, he cried out, his fist clamping down on Garrick’s shaft as the waves racked him.

  Garrick shuddered above him, groaning his name as spots of wet heat landed across Rhian’s chest and abs.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Garrick drove out of the arena parking lot three nights later and wondered if he’d been wrong. Again. Maybe persuading Rhian into more than a one-time thing had been a bad idea. Maybe being with him at all was a mistake.

  Not that he hadn’t loved every damn minute, but if the cost was days of Rhian avoiding him, it wasn’t worth it. Rhian struggled with so much about their relationship—even the friendship. Garrick feared he was just making it worse.

  At least the past few days hadn’t been as bad as last time. Rhian still sat with him at practice and meetings, their lockers were back to being next to each other even when they’d traveled to Fredericton yesterday. They still hung out with their friends together. Or at least as much as Garrick could these days.

  But at the end of each day, Rhian had told him he needed to go home, to be alone, and Garrick hated the look in his eyes when he said it.

  It was supposed to be fun, damn it. Not scary.

  To top it all off, guilt gnawed at Garrick. If Rhian would agree to spend ten minutes alone with him, Garrick would tell him everything. And then it probably wouldn’t matter how much he wanted Rhian. Rhian would know Garrick had been lying to him.

  If he had learned nothing else, he knew how rare trust was for Rhian. The longer Garrick wait
ed to confess, the bigger it grew in his mind. The more he feared Rhian’s reaction.

  He wouldn’t be able to tell Rhian tonight either. Garrick had a meeting with Rupert—who was finally in town—and Reese at his farmhouse. Rupert would start as the full-time manager tomorrow, and they had a lot to discuss, not the least of which was the roster. With a heavy heart, Garrick had accepted that Justin needed to be cut loose.

  Another betrayal for which he could only hope to be forgiven.

  Sighing, he pulled onto the highway headed out of town. He’d barely gotten up to full speed when his phone rang.

  Rhian stood in the bitterly cold wind of the arena parking lot and frowned at his car sitting on the pavement. Literally. All four tires had been slashed, leaving his rims firmly planted on the ground with black rubber pancakes pinched beneath them.

  Shit.

  He fished the card for the detective assigned to the break-in at his apartment from his wallet and dialed the number. It wasn’t until he was relating the details of this latest fiasco that he noticed a note tucked under his windshield wiper.

  He plucked it loose as he hung up the phone, having assured the detective he would wait for the police to arrive. It was a simple piece of white lined paper torn from a spiral notebook. The handwriting was neat and unremarkable. The message, terrifying.

  $5000 or we tell the press, the Bruins, and your fancy agent you’re a faggot.

  There followed instructions to leave an envelope of small bills taped under a bench at the local shopping plaza tomorrow.

  Rhian was hardly aware he’d dialed his phone again until Garrick’s voice was in his ear.

  “Rhian? Are you okay?”

  Garrick probably assumed he would only call if the shit hit the fan, and he was right.

  I’m such a jerk.

  Rhian wished, not for the first time, he could get over the fear that hounded him when he was faced with his decisions in the bright light of day. When he didn’t have Garrick’s arms around him and his lips distracting him.

  “Rhian?”

  Fear or no fear, he couldn’t deny the truth. “I need you.”

  “Where?”

  No hesitation. No explanation needed. The squeal of tires was loud over the phone.

  “Garrick, be careful.”

  “Where are you?”

  Rhian told him, so fucking relieved Garrick was coming back. Only after he hung up did it occur to him that the best response to someone trying to out you was probably not to have your lover come riding in like a knight in shining armor.

  He scanned the parking lot. Was he being watched?

  Dave and Chris were cutting across the rows toward their cars. Rhian waved them over.

  “What the fuck!” Dave exclaimed when they arrived at Rhian’s side and saw what was left of Rhian’s tires.

  Rhian relaxed a little, glad to have some company—particularly teammates who had been in the arena with him when this happened, so they couldn’t possibly be responsible. He hated the cynical thought, a terrible reminder of the constant suspicion he’d honed while living in the group homes.

  He’d shaken free of so much of that, damn it, and now this ugly shit. He searched the parking lot again.

  Chris cocked his head. “What are you looking for?”

  Rhian shrugged.

  Dave caught on. “Chris, go see if anybody is over there.” He pointed at the rows between them and the fence. “I’ll look this way.” He took off in the opposite direction.

  Rhian wanted to call them back, unwilling to risk their safety, and yet was so damn grateful for their support he could feel an alarming sting in the back of his eyes.

  Holy Jesus, he needed more sleep. He’d spent the last three night tossing and turning, hardly getting a wink. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since…

  Well, whatever. He wasn’t going to think about that right now.

  A police cruiser pulled into the lot, lights flashing, and Garrick’s SUV tore in right behind it. Rhian flagged down the officers while Garrick’s truck rocked to a stop in the first available spot. He leaped from his car and ran toward Rhian.

  For a moment, Rhian was afraid Garrick was going to do something crazy like crash right into him and hold on.

  Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

  Rhian turned to the officers. Garrick came to stand at Rhian’s shoulder without saying a word. The barest brush of Garrick’s hand against his hip settled Rhian’s nerves.

  He assured the cops he knew nothing more than when they’d met at his apartment, ignoring the blackmail note burning a hole in his pocket.

  The police went to talk to Dave and Chris. As soon as they were out of earshot, Garrick’s hand came to rest on his back.

  “Are you okay?”

  Rhian quickly stepped away and turned to face him.

  “It’s not what you think,” Rhian said, desperate to wipe the hurt from Garrick’s face. “We need to talk.”

  How the hell was he going to tell Garrick about the note? Christ, what if there was proof? Only one other person could be in any pictures or, god forbid, video.

  What the fuck have we done?

  Garrick glanced at his watch and swore. “I have to get home. Will you come with me? Please.”

  Rhian shifted uncomfortably. He needed to talk to Garrick alone, but another night at the farmhouse might draw him deeper into whatever this thing was between them.

  Friendship. Sex. These didn’t feel like the right words anymore, but Rhian couldn’t come up with better ones. All he had was the burning desire to run away and the overwhelming need to get as close to Garrick as he possibly could.

  Jesus, he was such a fuck-up.

  Garrick cocked his head, waiting for an answer.

  “Didn’t you have plans tonight?” Rhian hedged.

  “I do. I’m meeting some people at the house, but you can come with me. I’ll explain on the way home.”

  That sounded less intimidating than going home with him alone. “Okay.”

  Once he agreed, Rhian felt nothing but relief. And excitement. Which was stupid, but par for the course these days. Even in his most freaked-out moments, the low hum of desire had never once deserted him. He wanted this man to the point of distraction.

  Of course, once he dropped the bomb about the blackmail, there was a very good chance Rhian would be delivered back to his apartment with all possible haste.

  He checked in with the officers again while Garrick called a friend who owned a garage to come get Rhian’s car. Four new tires would be pricey, especially on top of replacing the stuff that had been ruined during the break-in. It probably said something about him that the first thing he’d done was order a new TV.

  Garrick ended his call and immediately dialed another number.

  Rhian wondered when he’d decided a TV would make his sad little space a home. And when had he started to want that anyway?

  “Just hang tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Garrick said quietly into his phone. He glanced at Chris standing a few feet away and turned his back, stepping closer to Rhian. “Okay, thanks. Sorry for the delay. I’ll explain when I get there.”

  Garrick hung up.

  “I’m sorry I screwed up your plans for tonight.”

  “This is more important.”

  Their gazes tangled and held, Garrick’s warm brown eyes soothing something deep inside Rhian. His fears, the knots of tension that had lived in his gut since they’d last been alone, eased. At that moment, all he wanted was to go somewhere private where Garrick could lie down on top of him.

  Garrick pulled his SUV out onto the highway with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

  It was time for him to confess.

  “Rhi—”

  “Gar—”

  They laughed and fell silent again.

  Rhian turned to him. “You go first.”

  Great.

  Garrick struggled to find a way to soften the news, or at least the delivery. H
e’d like to have finessed this one into the net, but it was going to be a slapshot.

  “I own the Ice Cats.”

  “What?”

  “Actually, I only own one quarter of the Ice Cats.” The clarification hardly mattered, but he’d try anything.

  “What?”

  Garrick’s heart sank. He considered pulling over so he could grab hold of Rhian and try to explain that he’d made a huge fucking mistake. But then, his touch might not be welcomed. And goddamn Reese and Rupert were waiting at the house—thus why he was doing this at sixty miles per hour and not once they were home.

  When Rhian said nothing, Garrick laid his hand over Rhian’s fist on the center console. Rhian whipped his arm away, leaving Garrick to stare out at the empty highway with what felt like a boulder lodged in his chest.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rhian tried to wrap his head around what Garrick had just told him. He blurted out the first clear thought that landed. “Holy fuck, you’re my boss.”

  “I am not.”

  Rhian glared at the stupid man. “Yes, you are. You can sign me, terminate me, trade me, promote me. You name it. Jesus fucking Christ, Garrick, I thought you were my friend.”

  His voice echoed in the small cab.

  Garrick’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His voice was low and rough. “God, Rhian. I am your friend.”

  Rhian turned away when Garrick looked at him.

  Goddamn him.

  Rhian barely had a handle on how this shit was supposed to work, but he knew this wasn’t right. He’d trusted Garrick. Told him…well, told him more than he’d ever intended. More than he’d told anyone else.

  Goddamn him.

  “I’m not supposed to tell anyone, Rhian. Not until the deal is finalized.”

  “I bet Savannah knows.” He wished he could take the words back the second they left his mouth.

  Garrick’s silence was answer enough. Rhian didn’t expect any further explanation. It wasn’t as though he’d had any illusions about what this was between them.

  “She knows because she’s the one who found the other buyers,” Garrick said at last.