Seduced by the Game (48 page)

"I’m good, I’m
good," I told the goalie coach. The man tugged on the knot of his tie. He
looked to the corner. I tensed when I felt Cam lean over to whisper something
in my ear. He smelled clean. I smelled like a sweaty shoe with a rancid
athletic supporter hidden inside it. "I’m good," I told the veteran.

"You are. You’re
damned good. Too damned good for my peace of mind," Cam whispered as the
fans chanted, stomped, and made some real noise. "Don’t let our shit fuck
this up for you."

"Our shit?" I
asked, not daring to look at anything but the trainer dabbing some goop under
Tony Vicente’s eye.

"Yeah, our
shit," he said before he clapped a hand to the back of my sweaty neck.
"Now find your fucking center, focus, and show these assholes what you can
do."

I pulled back, stared at
him for a full moment, then returned to my net. Right.
Our
shit. When
had it become “Our shit”? Probably when he kissed me. Yeah, that would have
been the moment. I worked my crease on instinct. I dug deep, pulled out my
concentration from the wall of confusion it had been hiding behind, and
resigned myself to playing the best hockey I could for the next five minutes.

Four-on-four hockey
commenced. I not only found my center, I bitch slapped the Marauders with it. I
blocked four shots in one ten-second assault on the net. Two minutes into
overtime, Brad did what Brad does best. He pulled Michael Dewey, the Marauders’
tendie, to the left after a breakaway. As Dewey surged left, Brad deked to the
right then flipped the puck into a two-hole shot that made me wince in
sympathy. The fans fell silent as the red light behind the Marauders’ goal lit
up. I tossed my arms over my head in celebration. Within a second the whole
bench was in my space. I accepted a pat, rub, and even a few kisses to my
helmet. The stadium was like a morgue. The rush was incredible! I was flying so
high I barely noticed the warm hand settling into mine as the congratulations
began to ebb.

"You did one hell of
a job, Jacobi." Cam’s smile was brittle.

"That was some pretty
intense mentor-y shit you passed on," I replied, trying to keep in mind
that photographers were snapping pictures by the hundreds. Cam patted my head.
We left the ice, me following him, to the visiting team locker room.

I emerged from the chaos
an hour later, still smiling, to board the bus. The vibe was cheerful, the win
really helping to boost confidence as well as morale. I dropped into a seat
toward the back. The window at my right was cleared from the heater running
full bore. Someone reached over the back of my seat, ruffled my wet hair, then
sat back down. A body plopped down beside me. Brad began talking. I nodded at
the appropriate times, laughed when it was necessary, and joked when the time
called for it. But the celebratory mood was lacking until Cam climbed onto the
luxurious chartered bus. No matter that there were close to thirty men crammed
into the motor coach, he didn’t take a seat until he had located me. I inclined
my head an inch. He dropped down then fell into a rather animated conversation
with one of the trainers. I had to wonder where my “Fuck it!” resolve had gone.

Brad talked until we
entered the hotel, and even on the ride up to our floor. I was sharing a room
with a big Finnish D-man by the name of Likka Erola. Likka maintained a massive
bevy of puck bunnies even though he shaved his head and wore clothes that were
at least forty years out of date. See, Likka, for all his flaws, had the
biggest dick I have ever seen that was not in pornography. The first night we
were here, he sauntered out of the bathroom after a shower, naked as the day he
was born. I couldn’t help the way my eyes bugged out of my head when I saw the
baseball bat he called a cock dangling down the inside of his thigh.

"Big dick, ya?"
I nodded dully. He roared with pleasure, took the anaconda in his hand and told
me that American women were huge fans of his big prick. Personally, I tend to
shy away from something that looks like it should be found under a Clydesdale,
but dayum, that dick of his
was
impressive.

"So,
Jack-Oh-Bee," Likka said as I swiped my key card through the lock, "I
have two hot babe coming up. You do good for team, I do good for you. You pick
which to fuck."

"Oh, wow, thanks,
Likka." I threw my duffel onto the double bed I had claimed. "But you
do know I’m gay, right?"

The towering man studied
me intently. "Ah!" he said as his light blue eyes grew wide with
understanding. "So that is why you are so dumb with my dick! I am sorry,
Jack-Oh-Bee, but I do not do the man sex thing."

"That’s cool," I
grinned, already backpedaling to the door since Likka was unzipping his pants
to free the monster. I rushed out the door, said hello to the twin redheads,
then closed the door behind the giggling women. "Oh man." I snorted
then looked down the corridor. Cam was just stepping out of the elevator. He
paused, surprise at finding me alone in the hall clear on his handsome face.
"Likka is entertaining," I said.

"Ah," Cam
replied knowingly. "Would you like to hang out in my room for a
while?"

"Oh, uhm, yeah sure,
that would be cool." I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my jeans.
Cam walked up to, then past me, his expensive cologne quite pleasant. I padded
along beside him, feeling underdressed. He was in a sleek blue suit. I was in
jeans and a Marianas Trench long-sleeved tee with a ski vest. Real classy,
right? At least my hiking boots were new. Cam ran his card through the lock,
never saying one word until we were safely ensconced inside his room.

Five

"Nice," I said
as I checked out the private room. "So how do I go about getting a suite
with no rutting Finn in it?" I asked, eying the neatly made California
king.

"Addendums to
contracts are wonderful things." Cam deposited his bag to the floor in the
corner. I was hunkered down checking out the contents of the mini-fridge when
he dropped an anvil on my head. "That kiss the other night… I can’t stop
thinking about it. Can you?"

I grabbed a bottle of
flavored water, stood up, then twisted the plastic cap off my drink. "Do
you ever gently lead up to something?" I asked before downing half the
bottle. Cam shook his head.

"No, I didn’t mean it
like that. Please, sit down." He waved at a brocaded chair in the corner
beside the bed. I lowered myself into the seat. Cam sat on the edge of the bed,
working at the knot in his tie. "I shouldn’t have done it. I know you’re dating
Brad–"

I leaned forward, my
elbows to my knees. "No, not really. We made out once, that’s it."

He stopped tugging his tie
out from under his collar. I nodded at the dull look he gave me. The room began
to feel overly warm.

"Oh. He seems rather…
He seems to think otherwise." Cam resumed pulling his tie free.

"Yeah, I know. I
guess…" I stared at my water bottle." I guess I’ve kind of let him
think something might happen, you know? I mean I like him, and he’s a good
kisser but, yeah, it’s not a thing."

"Do you find it easy
finding men to…"

"Sleep with?" I
leaped in when he tripped over it. I had never seen a man so conflicted. Cam
leveled a dark stare in my direction. "I didn’t mean to sound like I was
talking down, but if you can’t even be honest with yourself, how the
hell
are you going to ever be honest with someone else. Can you even admit that
you’re gay?"

"Yes!" he
snapped, shooting to his feet. He began circling the room as he peeled his
dress shirt off. He wore a pristine white wife-beater under his shirt. My cock
twitched as I ran an appreciative eye over his bared biceps. "I’m gay,
Jacobi."

"Good man." I
saluted him with my water bottle. "Now can you tell me what it is two gay
men do with, and to, each other?" I asked, placing my ankle to my knee.
The man resumed his pacing. He had a nice stride due to his long legs. My gaze
kept going back to his arms. Then they would drift over his shoulders. I love
nice arms and shoulders.

"Stop it." Cam
paused in front of the sliding glass door. The patio outside held several
inches of old snow. "You make it sound as if it’s so easy. Like coming out
is a fucking lark. Not all of us were raised in a generation of tolerance like
you were. Some of us… Hell, some of us can’t even begin to work out how to tell
our mothers that we’re gay." He began drawing something in the steam on
the slider. I felt horrible. I
had
been pretty glib.

"It’s not as easy for
the younger gays as you seem to think it is," I said to his back. "I
mean, yeah, it’s a lot better for young dudes now to be open, but it’s still a
stigma. We’re still facing oppression all over the world."

"I know." He
sighed, lowering his index finger when the most atrocious tree I have ever seen
drawn on a steamy window was completed. Cam Evans may be a goaltending god, but
he sucks donkey dick when it comes to drawing. "So, do you find it easy
locating partners? I’m tired of slumming around in men’s rooms or dark corners
in seedy bars."

I exhaled slowly. Man. I
turned my thoughts over for a few seconds. "Okay, first off, for me,
finding partners isn’t an easy thing. I don’t have time for cruising gay bars.
My whole life is this," I said as I swung my bottle of water in a circle
to encompass the room. Cam turned from the outdoors, his eyes settling on me.
"Hockey is all I can do at the moment .Sure, I want someone special, but
this break may be the only one I ever get. I worked my ass off to make it this
far."

"And I’m fucking this
opportunity up for you, aren’t I?" I quickly began to argue it, but the
man was too sharp. He held up a skilled hand. "Don’t deny it. I know this
bullshit is shattering your concentration. It is mine as well. I keep telling
myself that I need to come out before I put a gun to my head but–"

"Cam, do not ever say
that again. Ever." That he would even mention it scared to me my marrow.
He padded back over then dropped to one knee in front of me. My entire body
reacted to his closeness.

"I’m sorry. It was a
stupid thing to toss out like that." He reached for my hand, the one
laying on my thigh. His touch was electrifying yet soothing, if that makes any
sense. Like my fingers had been seeking out his for as long as I could recall.
"I don’t know what to do. Do I come out then find someone to love openly?
Or do I find that special someone before I come out? Would someone be willing
to be at my side as I batter down the closet door? Would they, Jacobi?"

"Yeah," I said,
my voice nearly nonexistent. "Yeah, someone would be willing to be at your
side for that, and so much more."

Cam lifted my hand to his
face. Eyes closed, nostrils flared to inhale my scent, he rubbed the back of my
fingers against his freshly-shaved cheek. My grip increased on the water bottle
when he placed his lips to my fingertips. I was now beyond erect. I was harder
than stone. My balls were beginning to ache. His dark eyes were finely attuned
to the task at hand, as it were. My breathing became jagged, raspy.

When the tip of his tongue
moved over the end of my index finger, I thought I would blow apart right then
and there. I didn’t though. My head actually fell back to the chair when he
slid that index finger into his mouth. I heard the heater coming on. The room
was way beyond warm. It was stifling. I had to get some clothes off. So did
Cam. Now.

"I want to take you
to my bed, Jacobi," Cam said then ran his tongue between my fingers.
"Did that sound totally archaic?" he asked after a groan rumbled up
from deep within me.

"God, no, it sounds
like… I do too, I mean, fuck… Yeah, it sounds good, Cam. Really good." I
found him staring at me. Right then it happened. Cam still says he felt it as
well. Call it what you want: kismet, destiny, fate, fortune, lot. At that
moment, in that suite with the ugly tree on the misty sliding glass door, two
men fell in love. My water bottle hit the floor. I reached for him, my fingers
weaving into that nicely styled brown hair. It was thick, springy, soft. Just
as I knew it would be. I used that hair to pull him up as I leaned forward and
down.

His eyes drifted shut
before mine did. His lips parted with ease. My tongue met his. They danced a
fiery dance. A flamenco, if one dance needed to be picked. When the kiss broke,
we were both gasping for breath. Cam pushed me back into the chair gently. His
hands moved over me softly, palms flat, fingers splayed. Even when I knew it
was coming, the moment his right hand moved over the bulge in my pants, my mind
left my body. Don’t know where it went. Maybe on the floor with my water
bottle? All I know is that I was nothing but a shuddering mass of nerve endings
that all cried out at once.

I have to give the man
props, he didn’t act like a man who had been mourning the loss of sexual
partners. Cam looked to be in total control. Until he freed my cock from my
jeans. Then his grasp on that famed calm, cool, and collected demeanor slipped
a bit. I lifted my ass in anticipation. He had a moment or two with the laces
of my boots, but eventually they were discarded, as was any other bit of
clothing I was wearing.

"I’m negative, just
so you know." He glanced up at me, his teeth toying with a nipple. My
balls contracted tightly. My fingers dug into the arms of the chair. Cam
grabbed the base of my cock. His fist tightened. I moaned loudly, my head
kicking back sharply.