Page 35 of Edging Coach
“I mean that when a defenseman inevitably gets hurt—hell,when one so much as gets a hangnail—I would bet my left nut they’ll be asking for you.”
His lips parted. “They… really?”
“Yes. Which means you need to shine on the ice. And you’re already doing that. But you need to keep your nose cleanoffthe ice, too.”
He gulped. “So… not fooling around with my coach.”
“Exactly.”
Devon nodded slowly, chewing his lip.
“I won’t pretend I don’t want you,” I said, barely whispering, “but Ican’tbe the reason your career gets derailed.”
Avoiding my gaze, he nodded again. “I, uh… I appreciate that.”
“So we’re on the same page, then. We’re going to cool it. For real this time.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we are.”
“All right.” I gestured toward the door. “You should finish getting your gear on.”
He didn’t budge. Instead, he looked right at me. Though we were the same height, I hadn’t put on my skates yet. He had, and they pushed him to just above my eye level. I hated how much I liked that. How much I wanted to be looking up at him.
Devon’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “You know we shouldn’t do this. But if I texted you tonight and told you to jack off for me… you would.”
“Then don’t text me.” I tried for irritated but it came out pleading. “Please, Devon. Something tells me you’re a lot stronger here than I am.” I swallowed hard. “Don’t. Text me.”
The nod was subtle, but there.
He still didn’t move.
I shifted my weight. “Devon…”
“I’m not going to do something you don’t consent to,” he saidsoftly. “If you don’t want me to text, I won’t.” He inclined his head a little. “But there’s something here”—he gestured at himself, then me—“that you keep coming back for even when you know you shouldn’t. Maybe you should think about what that is.”
I searched his light-brown eyes. “Why do I feel like you know the answer?”
“Because I do. And I think you do, too.”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t fucking breathe.
“I need to finish putting on my gear.” Devon brushed past me. “I’ll see you on the ice.”
Then he was gone. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall. I needed to put on my skates, too, but first…
First, I needed a goddamned minute.
He’d hit the nail right on the head. Yes, there was something I needed from him. Something he gave me as if it were the most natural thing and not some nebulous, undefined craving I couldn’t articulate.
The first time he’d put me on my knees, my whole world had felt right in ways it never had. When he made me call him “Sir,” it gave me a thrill I’d never known before. When he got himself off on camera while my rock-hard dick was painfully neglected, he’d taken me higher than I’d ever been.
I didn’t know how to spell out to someone else what it was I needed or why I needed it. I didn’t even know how to explain it to myself. Since when had I wanted someone to bark orders at me or call me a “good boy”?
Since for-fucking-ever—I just didn’t know it.
Out in the hall, skates clomped on the floor. Voices carried through the wall.
Fuck. I needed to get my head together and my skates on. This weird dynamic with Devon could wait. The Abbotsford Grizzlies could not.
