Chapter One
Nate entered the plush room on the fifth floor of the gentrified seven-story building. This suite was a little larger than the one he’d been given on his last visit to this club. Instead of cool blues, elegant greens dressed the decor. Textured pale green paper covered the walls. A light green broke up the dark emerald of the carpet in a honeycomb pattern. The king-sized bed sported a silky duvet with narrow stripes in alternated light and dark sage. Abstract prints provided added color and interest to the room. He found the visual presentation soothing, and some of the disquiet left his shoulders.
He took a seat at the shiny high-end cherrywood table and scrolled through his socials while he waited for the assigned Dom. His knee bounced, and he let it work. Hopefully, the club had chosen one of the two Doms he’d already seen before. NDA or no NDA, yet another person knowing who he was and what he was about was always risky.
The knock on the door stilled his knee, and he straightened. “Yeah, come in.”
The lock clicked, the door opened, and in stepped a familiar man wearing slacks and a white button-down, collar open and sleeves folded up to mid-forearm. Golden-brown forearms sported a light dusting of soft hair.
Nate’s pulse jumped and the last bit of tension left him. Ashton had been his Dom on his first trip, and Nate liked his bedside manner a lot. So much so, he’d requested him for this evening. Ashton had the looks to go with his personality as well. He was shorter than Nate by at least half a foot, but all-American boyishly cute with a slim though muscular build and long limbs. Nate suspected he ran to keep in shape. The low fade of his light brown hair looked recently trimmed.
Ashton’s green eyes twinkled when he spotted Nate. “Hey, cutie. Thanks for the request.”
Nate smiled and put his phone to sleep before standing. “Yeah. Sure. Good to see you.”
The two shook hands and Nate sat back down. Ashton took a seat across the table from him.
Nate had been in Omaha a mere two weeks the first time he’d visited the club, and Ashton had been the first Dom they’d paired him with. In fact, Ashton’s sweet, warm-hearted manner had engendered all sorts of good sentiments that had buoyed Nate’s mood for over a week afterward. Not getting Ashton the last time he’d scheduled a session had been more of a disappointment than he’d care to admit.
Too bad he couldn’t find an Ashton of his own. Doing that would not only jeopardize his career, but he wasn’t sure he could handle being discarded once again.
“Getting settled into your condo?” Ashton asked, poking at the tablet he’d brought in.
“Somewhat…” Nate shrugged and huffed a laugh. “No, not really. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the trade. It came out of the blue and happened less than a month after we won the Cup. If it weren’t for me standing on my head in a couple of those games, there would have been no Stanley Cup.”
“I’m sorry,” Ashton said, his face going soft and his tone sympathetic. “I can’t imagine what a shock that must have been.”
“I got the call from my agent on my Cup Day, so yeah, it was a pretty big shock.”
“Oh my God, that’s horrible.”
“Yeah, and my agent couldn’t not call me. I’d have heard about it on social media or from people blowing up my phone anyway.”
Ashton nodded. “Right.”
“I’m grateful they found a place for me to live, I really am.” Nate fiddled with his phone. “But I really dislike the place. I can’t bring myself to unpack.”
“Maybe there’s more to it than just the condo. Have you thought about counseling?”
“It’s crossed my mind, yeah,” Nate said. It really had. “But I just…it’s just one more thing I have to take charge of doing.” Moving would also require him to take charge.
“Which is part of why you’re here. To relinquish some control.”
Nate nodded. There’d been a bit of pillow talk during that first session—okay, a lot of pillow talk. Nate hadn’t revealed all the details of his fucked-up childhood, but Ashton understood why he sought out submission in the bedroom.
“Well, I think talking to a professional would do you a world of good, and if you need some help finding one, let me know.”
“Aren’t you a professional?”
Ashton rolled his eyes and smiled. “Here, yes; in the realm of mental health, not so much.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” With a nod, Ashton tapped the tablet’s surface with a fingertip. “I looked over the notes I entered into your profile last time we were together, read the notes from Brady. Are you looking for anything new this evening?”
“No.” Nate shook his head. “As per usual, I don’t want to be in charge of you or me or the sex.”
“All right. Is there anything on or off the table tonight that’s not already in your profile or that you want to alter just for tonight?”
Training camp was a month out, but there were team events and activities he’d be expected to attend and participate in. In addition to settling into his condo, he needed to bond with the team. Make some acquaintances at any rate.
Once the season ramped up, the more the spotlight would be on the team and on him as the new guy. Hockey was the only professional sport in town, so the team probably took center stage ahead of college sports, and the anonymity he currently enjoyed would disappear like a bottle of rum in his mother’s hands. He might have only one or two more chances to get a fuck fix before he became a known commodity to the city.
“I want anal penetration.” He didn’t do it often, but it’d been a while since he’d fucked or been fucked and being fucked by Ashton was suddenly, definitely appealing. A slight frisson of something more than physical arousal whispered through Nate. Ashton’s empathy and kindness spoke to him on a human level, and it’d been quite some time since he’d been the recipient of that kind of warmth and compassion. Nate found himself not only grateful but drawn to him as well.
“We can do that. You ready to get started?”
“Sure. Yeah.” Legit desire flickered to life in Nate’s groin. His dick chubbed up and tried to shift and straighten, but the seam of his pants held it captive. His pulse fluttered eagerly in his veins.
Too bad he’d met Ashton under these circumstances. Maybe if he ever felt comfortable enough being out—his former teammate Elijah had made it seem easy—he could find a guy to meet his needs in the bedroom on a permanent basis. One he didn’t have to schedule an appointment with. Finding that guy seemed impossible.
He’d relish having a loving partner like many of his teammates over the years experienced. Instead, he carried a void in his innermost being. Unfortunately, a professional athlete revealing himself as gay was still a risky proposition despite the fourth-pairing d-man in Houston getting away with it. A higher-profile athlete like Nate coming out as gay and preferring a submissive role in the bedroom would be ridiculed and worse.
For now, clubs and a stack of NDAs were the only way to guarantee his privacy. If Ashton were always his Dom, Nate could live with that for a while.
“Why don’t you step into the en suite and take care of whatever business you need to and return naked.”
Meaning—clean out your rectum and polish up your anus if you haven’t already.
Nate’s stomach swooped; his pulse buzzed. “Yeah. Okay.”
* * * * *
The large bathroom was bright and shiny; the fixtures were an off-white porcelain with brushed silver accents. He’d taken care of business before he’d left his condo, but there was no way for Ashton to know that. Besides, he might as well take advantage of all the amenities the premium room had to offer. The products they used in these high-end suites smelled nicer than his own, so why not?
After a quick shower, Nate dried off with the large white towel that was as soft and fluffy as expected. He flexed once into the large mirror and turned for the door, as ready as he’d ever be.
The diffused lighting and the understated scent of vanilla and musk in the main room created warmth and coziness. The changes evoked a sense of tranquility; a stark contrast to his sterile condo.
“Nate, you’re a beautiful specimen of a man. Come here and let me look at you.”
Nate stood a hockey stick’s length from Ashton who now sat on the bottom corner of the king-size bed clad only in his unbuttoned button-down and his underwear. His tanned skin contrasted deliciously with the crisp white of his shirt and the bright white of his briefs, unlike Nate’s usual pale pallor.
He’d needed this outlet more than he needed the jogging trails or golf courses where he tended to get his sun fixes.
Ashton’s gaze traversed Nate’s body, not stopping at any one part for very long, but appreciation shone in his eyes. Nate’s cock stirred in response.
Ashton hummed. “Turn, please. Every inch of you deserves to be seen.”
Nate pivoted in place and allowed his backside to be inspected, his erection thickening further. He liked being looked at, liked having his prized possession appreciated, despite its resemblance to an ice surface. He worked damned hard to maintain game shape at all times. Of course, so did every other hockey player. They admired him, sure, but not for the way his body looked. His play on the ice was what drew the crowds.
“I never knew hockey butts were a thing until I met you. And those quads…amazing.” Ashton’s voice was light, playful, but dripping with authentic admiration.
The words weren’t scripted—Nate knew that—but they struck too close to the hollow places still starved for connection. Letting that warmth settle felt dangerous. Focusing on the physical was easier. Safer.
Rustling indicated that Ashton had moved and his closer proximity behind Nate was confirmed by warm hands on his waist. “Relax, Nate, let me make you feel good.” Soft kisses trailed from one shoulder to the other. Hands skimmed his side from ribs to waist; fingers feathered across his shoulders and down his back. “Are light restraints acceptable this evening?”
The thought of being generally immobile while Ashton did sexy things to him was a definite turn on. “Mmm. Yeah.”
“How about a blindfold?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Now, on your knees, eyes closed, hands clasped behind your back while I finish getting things ready.”
Nate dropped into position and complied. Cool air wafted over him as Ashton removed the duvet. More rustling sounded, the clunk of a drawer or cabinet, the crinkle of foil. His blood thrummed in anticipation.
“Nate?”
“Hmm?”
“Open your eyes.”
Nate blinked and focused on the door to the bathroom as his equilibrium adjusted.
Ashton appeared in his view and held out a hand. “Up you go.”
Nate gripped Ashton’s long smooth fingers and stood, was led to the bed. He took in the white sheets, the satin restraints waiting. A bottle of massage oil lay next to a purple silicone cock ring, a pink and blue paisley silk tie, and orange rubber nipple clamps on one corner. Lube and condoms on the bedside table. A shiver of anticipation rippled through him.
“On your back first…”
Warm hands on his waist steadied him, but they also sparked anticipation. The sheets were cool and smooth against his back and glutes, and the slight scent of starch and bleach reached his nose. The cuffs of the restraints were soft around his wrists and ankles. The silk blindfold slid smoothly over his face and eyes.
“Anything uncomfortable, Nate?”
Nate tugged and shifted. “No, it’s all fine.”
“Should that change, let me know.”
The mix of command and tenderness in Ashton’s voice promised both care and control, and Nate’s last vestiges of worry evaporated.
“I will.”
“Safe words?”
“Green, yellow, red.”
“Good. Let’s get started.”