Page 73 of Crease Collision

“Bedroom?” he asks, his voice already wrecked.

“We said we’d eat,” I whisper.

“Eat later?”

I can’t find words, so I nod. He presses his lips to mine again, then puts his mouth near my ear and whispers something in Swedish.

“Fuck, Oskar.”

Then he takes my hand and leads me away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

OSKAR

“Oh God. Please, please. Yes!”

Kai’s face is covered with sweat, his eyes burning into mine, the pupils blown wide with lust. He bounces faster, stealing my breath and robbing me of my thoughts. There’s nothing left but instinct.

I grunt with every brutal descent as his body seals around my cock like he was made for it. His ass grips me tighter every time, pulling me deeper inside.

“Fuck!” he cries. “Oskar! Oh God!”

I love how he loses himself completely when we have sex. It’s the one time his perfect control shatters. As he fucks himself on my dick, his head falls back, exposing his throat. The desperate, beautiful sound of his cries makes my balls ache. He leans over and covers my mouth with his, swallowing my groans as he rides faster. His tongue fucks my mouth in the same rhythm our bodies have found.

I can’t stop myself. My hips buck up to meet his, driving into his perfect ass. We’re a frantic, feverish machine, using each other’s bodies, chasing the same explosive release.

“Punish me.” His voice is shrill and desperate as his hands claw at my chest, nails scraping away a layer of skin while his ass clenches around me.

I growl as I slam into him, and though his rhythm falters, he catches it again.

“Easy,” I say. “Let me use your ass.”

His eyes are desperate, like he doesn’t know if he can do it.

“Take it,” I command.

He rears up as I pound him, and I grab his hands to keep him from falling off.

“Fuck!” he yells, then lets out a high, plaintive wail.

I’m nearly out of strength, but it’s too good to stop.

His eyes go wide, and he throws his head back again. “Goddammit!”

Cum spurts out of his cock, drenching my chest and splattering onto my cheek. It’s too much—his face twisted in pleasure, his urgent sounds, the way he twists on me while he comes. I slam into him one last time and freeze, grunting hard as I fill the condom inside him.

We gradually come to a stop, and Kai looks down into my eyes. He’s almost floating above me, and then crashes down and rolls to the side. I move over and throw an arm across his chest.

“Herregud.”

“Hell yeah, whatever that means.”

“Ja,” I say. “That’s what it means.”

The next morning, I fall asleep before the team plane leaves New York. The last thing I remember is the click of my seat belt and memories of Kai’s face when we dragged ourselves out of bed. We had not slept much.

Charlotte, two hours later. My body is heavy in the pleasant, worn-out way that follows a great night. My teammates are louder than usual as we board the bus, but I hardly notice. We’re headed straight to the arena for practice, then to the hotel for lunch and a nap before tonight’s game. Tomorrow, Nashville. Life in the HFNA moves much faster than Swedish hockey ever did.