Face Offs & Cheap Shots (CU Hockey Book 2)

Fuck, I love being on the ice.

I always have.

But this year is different.

The shift happens during our first practice. I’ve always had this pull toward the game, and for the first time since I started playing, a future in it is not only possible but within reach.

I might not be going pro, but there’s no doubt about it. My future involves hockey in some capacity.

Knowing that makes the successes bigger, the losses more gut-wrenching, and that’s only in preseason.

I’ve already got half my plan in place. I organized more classes with my advisor, and even though it’s going to be an insane schedule to fit it all in before I graduate, I have to take my shot. I have to try.

The only thing I haven’t tried to do yet is tell Jacobs about it, and that’s because I’m scared he’ll think my idea is dumb. I also don’t know where this idea will lead me or what it will mean for us next year.

We haven’t talked about a definite future, but I know he wants to be close to his family, and they’re two hours away.

Every time I try to bring it up, I chicken out and swallow his dick instead.

I’m not sure if he’s noticed my distraction or not, but he sure as shit isn’t complaining.

The team gets cocky when we win the traditional pre-preseason game against the University of Vermont. In the past, that’s worked as a good-luck charm. Anytime the team has beaten UVM in that game, we’d make it to the Frozen Four.

That is until last year, when we smashed that theory out of the water by losing the first game in terrible fashion but taking out the championships anyway.

Jacobs and I have had a full-time job reeling in the team and telling them that just because we won, that doesn’t mean we can become complacent. Especially when we lost half our official preseason games.

We need to work our asses off, and I’m working doubly hard with the extra classes I’ve picked up.

Tonight’s our first official game for the season, and even though it’s a tight match and we’re down by one goal, the buzz under my skin doesn’t let me dwell on it. I may be exhausted and skating on fumes, but the craving I have for the W puts me in the right headspace. It makes me focused.

I was secretly worried Jacobs and my animosity was the reason we worked well on the ice and that changing our dynamic off the ice would mess with that, but it’s only better.

We’re more of a team.

We’re more in sync.

We have that thing that he used to have with Grant where they could sense each other and know where to send the puck instinctually.

Everything is better when we get along, but that doesn’t stop me from taunting him. Because nothing beats that spark between us when we’re sniping at each other.

“Hey, honey? See the net? Yeah, it would help if you shoot the puck inside of it. Outside doesn’t count, ’kay?” I smack his ass as I skate past him and get in the team box.

“You’ll pay for that later,” he says as he takes his spot next to me.

I’m counting on it.

Our guys get a shot on goal, and we all jump out of our seats.

Simms puts one through the goalie’s legs, bringing the score up to 3-3.

I lean in close to Jacobs. “If you sink this next one, I’ll let you sink one in me later.” I wink.

He groans. “Sometimes I hate you. I can’t be thinking about that right now.”

“Good. Hold on to that and take it out on me after the game.”

He snorts.

“Only if you get this next shot.”

“Otherwise you’ll hold out on me?”

That would only torture both of us. So not going to do that. “Yup,” I bluff.

And he buys it.

New determination flashes in his eyes, and as soon as our skates hit the ice again, he’s a man on a mission.

He sinks the puck in just over a minute.

We crowd him with hugs, but I can’t help laughing.

“Let’s hope it’s not that quick later,” I mutter to him.

“It won’t be.” He leans in closer. “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk.”

My skates wobble as my knees try to fall from beneath me. That kind of promise would’ve scared me not that long ago, but now I want to call the end of the game so we can get out of here.

When I was a kid and Baby and I would play together, I’d always try to quit while I was ahead so I could say “I win.”

I’d really appreciate it right now if we could do that.

We’re winning. All we have to do is run out the clock.

But I want to go now.

I want Jacobs’s dick inside me.

The buzzer can’t come soon enough. And when it does and we take out the win, Jacobs and I are first in the showers and first out the doors, telling the guys we’ll meet up with them for celebratory drinks later.

I think they all know we will not meet up with them later.

We’re quick to get back to the dorms, faster to get out of our clothes, and before I know it Jacobs has me kneeling on the bed, bent at the waist with my hands flush up against the wall above the headboard, and he’s opening me up with his mouth and his fingers.

“Fuck!” I cry out.

There’s no finesse, just all tongue and spit and his thick digits pushing into me over and over again. The sensation is overwhelming.

I don’t want him to stop, but I need more. I breathe hard. I need all of him.

“Topher, I … Fuck …”

“Are you ready for me?” Jacobs asks.

“Yes, fucking, yes. Hurry up.”

“We need lube and a condom.”

I let out a breathy, “Screw it, no we don’t. I …”

He hasn’t removed his fingers, and I fuck myself on them.

“I don’t care, do it now.”

Jacobs stops completely.

“No! What are you doing?”

“Are you sure?” Jacobs’s voice is quiet and uncertain. “No lube will hurt. And the condom …”

I look at him over my shoulder. “Fine, lube yes, condom no. I want to feel all of you.”

He still seems hesitant. “Have you ever not used one before?”

“Never. I promise.”

“I trust you. I haven’t either.” He reaches for the lube, and then he’s filling me again with his fingers, making sure I really am ready for him.

I’m a shuddery mess at the first brush of my prostate.

I can’t talk. Hell, I can hardly breathe.

“You’re so hot like this,” he rasps. “Ready and open for me. Begging for my dick.”

“Fuck you, I don’t beg.” I might beg. But not right now.

“Not with words.” Jacobs’s hand runs down the middle of my back. “But with your body.”

“I swear on all that is holy, if you don’t fuck me right now, I will hurt you.”

He slaps my ass. “You’re forgetting I like that.”

“I hate you,” I chant. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You never did.” He finally puts me out of my misery, lining up his cock.

I feel the head at my entrance, and I crave the burn. I crave him deep inside me, turning me inside out until I can’t walk like he promised.

He goes slowly—too slowly—and I rock back on my knees to take him deeper.

He lets out a groan I feel all the way to my toes, and that’s nothing compared to when his cock is finally inside me.

The guttural noises coming from both of us are animalistic.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “It feels … different.”

He’s barely moved though.

“Fuck me,” I demand.

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yes, you do. This is your chance to take out all the frustration I’ve caused you the past three years. All the taunting. All the immaturity. All the—”

He pulls out and slams back inside so fast, I’m not expecting it.

“Yes,” I hiss. “Do it.”

Jacobs does it again and again, each thrust harder than the last.

One of his hands grips my hip while the other holds on to my shoulder to keep me in place as he fucks my hole.

“God, you really must’ve hated me,” I grit out.

All I can do is take it as he pushes into me over and over.

“Too much?” he asks.

“No. Never too much.”

“I won’t be able to do this for long. You’re too tight. Too warm. It’s … indescribable.”

“Keep going. I’ll get myself there.” I move one hand from the wall and reach for my aching cock.

The higher we climb, the closer to the edge I get, and the more my mind fuzzes over.

I go numb.

When it’s him and me like this, nothing else matters. When his hands brand my skin, and he takes my body like he owns it, it becomes just the two of us.

School doesn’t exist.

Hockey is only a sport.

Everything fades away except one prominent thought cutting through the din.

I’m in love with Christopher Jacobs.

And that wasn’t supposed to happen.

Oops?

Jacobs grunts.

I love you, my mind replies. To a grunt.

I shake it off and focus on my hand working my dick.

Jacobs’s sweat drops onto my back, and his rhythm falters.

I know he’s getting close.

“Teddy, I … I …”

The anticipation of him saying the exact words I’m thinking builds until I can’t hold back my orgasm anymore.

“I’m coming.” I explode all over my hand and the headboard. Not to mention his pillows.

Again, oops.

It’s really hard to care when my prostate is being pounded to the point I almost can’t take it anymore.

I take deep breaths and ride out my orgasm while Jacobs continues to take what he needs.

My hand on my cock stills. It’s all too much. Too much stimulation. Too much … everything.

Jacobs pulls out and flips me onto my back, and I know without a doubt I now have cum hair, but I don’t care.

Jacobs lifts my legs and slams back inside me.

“Fuck!” His hooded eyes scrunch closed, and it only takes three more thrusts before the sexiest moan falls from his mouth and warmth fills my ass.

He rolls his hips, milking the last of what he has left.

When he eventually pulls out and collapses on top of me, we both struggle to breathe.

His hot mouth peppers kisses along my collarbone as he makes his way up to my mouth, while his fingers slip between my ass cheeks. He circles my hole, then slides one finger back in.

“What are you doing?”

“Pushing my cum back inside you.”

Fuck me.

I cup his head and pull him into the kiss, pushing my tongue into his mouth.

Jacobs makes a noise at the back of his throat that sounds part whine and part needy, but then he pulls away and rolls off me.

He lands next to me and wraps his arm around my waist, bringing me as close to him as I can get. “That was …”

I lie in his arms, still reeling from the major revelation.

I’ve never been in love before, but that’s definitely what this is.

I think.

All I know is I’ve never felt this way about someone.

Instead of elation or clarity or any of those good things I should feel about it, all I can think is love at our age always ends.

For the first time in my life, I’m allowed to take everything into account and choose what I want to do.

My original plan was moving to New York. Jacobs probably still thinks that’s what’s going to happen.

He doesn’t know that I have an out, and he doesn’t know my future is up for grabs.

If he did and didn’t want to be a part of it … I don’t have the time or energy to go through heartbreak this year. Not with my new course load.

We lie like that in silence for a while until Jacobs recovers.

He leans up on his elbow. “I haven’t seen you for ages.”

I laugh to cover my anxiety over us. “Was it not me on the ice with you?”

“You know what I mean. We live next door to each other, we have practice and games together, but it’s like I never see you.”

“I’ve been super busy with studying. A shocking thing about me that you would have never guessed is I didn’t plan my classes accordingly, and now all my hard subjects are this year. I’m talking back-to-back lectures every day.”

Jacobs smiles. “That is such a Beck thing to do.”

I swallow hard. “Where are you thinking of getting a job when you graduate? Here in Burlington or …” I know the answer before I finish the question. “Near Dorset, I’m guessing.”

“That’s the plan. I want to be close to the farm so I can help out on weekends. Mom and Dad don’t have the money to employ more people, and my brothers aren’t going to be around forever. Rafter will be in college in two years.”

The distance between Colchester and Dorset isn’t a big distance—it’s about the same between Grant and his boyfriend, and they’re making it work.

“Maybe if I get out from underneath my father, your parents can adopt me and make me work on the farm.”

Jacobs scoffs. “You’ll need to build usable muscle, not the gym-made shit you’re carrying around. Besides, isn’t there more chance of pigs flying than getting out of working for your dad?”

Tell him about the deal.

“Yeah … probably.”

Idiot.

I know my reasons for keeping it from him are thin, but I guess I’m not ready to face it all yet.

I’m not ready to admit aloud that I’m terrified of failing.

I’m scared of admitting that if my father doesn’t accept my plan and tries to make me work for his stupid company, I don’t know how to live without my money. My choice would be picking between toeing my father’s line or learning to live on a budget. And honestly, that’s probably the scariest thing I’m facing. No way in hell am I complaining about that to Jacobs. It’s the ultimate definition of privilege, and money is the barrier that kept us as enemies for three years.

Jacobs’s finger traces over my frown line. “You look exhausted.”

“I am.”

“Close your eyes.”

He rubs my temples, and I think I’m in heaven.

“Go to sleep and get some rest.”

I practically pass out before he finishes his sentence.