Copper and Salt, page 18
“Almost fat, my ass,” he murmured, and felt the laughter that vibrated through Alex’s frame. Oren smiled and kissed his way down Alex’s chest, stopping at his waist and sitting up to reach for his belt.
Alex watched as Oren tugged the belt free and unzipped his pants, lifting his hips so Oren could pull them down.
“Is it creepy to tell you I’ve jacked off to the thought of this?” Oren asked, looking up.
Alex smiled, wide and delighted. “I have too,” he admitted. “I have wanted you for so long, Oren—”
“You have me, gorgeous,” Oren said, crawling up Alex’s long body. “What would you like from me?”
“All of you,” Alex said, reaching up and pulling Oren’s head down. “All of you.”
Oren lowered his body, feeling Alex’s hard length pressing against his belly as they kissed, and he couldn’t resist rolling his hips in a slow, filthy grind that had them both gasping.
“You think you could fuck me?” he whispered.
Alex’s eyes went wide. “You want me to—”
“God yes,” Oren breathed against Alex’s throat. He kissed his way down his chest again, teasing his nipple into a hardened nub as Alex gasped, his back arching. “Are there… supplies?”
They found massage oil in the bedside drawer and Oren popped the cap. The scents of rosewood and vanilla filled the room, but before he could pour the oil on his fingers, Alex sat up with shocking speed and grabbed the bottle.
“I want—can I?”
Oren gulped. “Yeah, of course.” He flipped over and lay down on the bed, face against the mattress, spreading his legs and listening to Alex settling between them.
One slick finger touched his hole, and Oren canted his hips so that the tip slid inside.
Alex spread his free hand across the jut of Oren’s hipbone, anchoring him, and kissed the curve of his buttock as he pushed his finger deeper.
Oren sighed, relaxing into the intrusion.
“Okay?” Alex asked.
“Mm.” Oren slanted a smile at him over his shoulder. “More than. Keep going.”
Alex smiled back and added a second finger as Oren hardened under his attentions, until he was leaking onto the bedspread and rocking back against Alex’s hand.
“Yeah,” he gasped as Alex found his prostate and rubbed and fireworks went off behind Oren’s eyes. “Oh god, Alex—” He tried to work a hand between himself and the bedspread, but Alex caught his arm, pulling it away from his body.
“No.”
“Please.” Oren was finding it difficult to form words, and then Alex added a third finger. Oren bucked at the stretch and burn, almost sobbing.
“Is good?” Alex’s English was deserting him, Oren noticed distantly.
“Yes, but please, can I touch—”
“Not yet.”
Alex found Oren’s prostate again, sliding over it, and Oren decided he wasn’t going to survive. He was so hard it hurt, a constant throbbing that pulsed in time with Alex’s fingers, and still Alex stretched him, slow and methodical and merciless.
“I’m ready,” Oren gasped when he couldn’t bear it any more. “Please, baby, please—”
Alex pulled his fingers out and curved himself over Oren’s prostrate body, laying butterfly kisses up his spine until he was on top of him, lowering himself until he could nip Oren’s ear.
“I’m gonna die,” Oren informed him, and Alex huffed a warm laugh.
“You want me to fuck you?” he murmured, rubbing their cheeks together.
“Pretty sure that’s what I’ve been begging you for,” Oren retorted.
Alex nipped his ear again, sharper this time, and Oren jerked.
“Ah—fuck—come on, Alex, what do you want from me?”
Alex hummed and dropped a kiss on Oren’s cheek before levering himself up and catching Oren’s knee. “Over,” he directed.
Oren obeyed, rolling to his back. A glance assured him that Alex was just as aroused as he was, his shaft flushed a dark red. Oren’s mouth watered.
“Next time,” Alex said. He moved closer, running his hand up Oren’s thigh. “So beautiful,” he murmured.
“Alex Costea-Acevedo, I swear to God, if you don’t get a move on—”
Alex laughed, his head falling back and pure joy pealing forth, and despite Oren’s state, he couldn’t help but laugh with him, exulting in the sight of his lover so cleanly happy.
Still. Oren hooked his heel around Alex’s hips and pulled him forward. Alex caught himself with a hand on either side of Oren’s shoulders, laughter cutting off but a smile lingering.
“Thank you,” he said, bending his head to kiss him.
Oren arched up into it, arms snaking around Alex’s neck and his tongue delving greedily inside Alex’s mouth. “Please fuck me,” he whispered against Alex’s lips.
“Bine,” Alex said, and sat up on his heels. He scooped up the massage oil and slicked himself thoroughly and then guided himself to Oren’s entrance.
Oren gasped as Alex pressed in, stretching and filling him to overflowing as he slid home in a slow, controlled glide.
“Oh, Jesus,” he choked, clutching handfuls of the bedspread. Alex hilted himself, flattening a hand on Oren’s stomach, and a tense, waiting silence fell over the room.
Alex sucked in air. “Okay, Oren?”
“Better than, so much better than, come on, baby, don’t make me beg.”
“But I like it,” Alex said, teasing rich in his voice, and Oren opened one eye a slit and glared at him.
“At some point, we’re going to have to discuss this seriously toppy kink you’ve been hiding from me,” he said. “Right now, I’m in dire need of a good fucking.”
Alex laughed again, delight vibrating through him, and began to move. He set a steady rhythm immediately, pulling almost all the way out and back in, punishingly strong thrusts that had Oren’s eyes rolling back in his head as the head of Alex’s cock dragged over his prostate and more fireworks went off.
“Alex,” he panted. “Please, can I—”
“No,” Alex said, and Oren gave serious thought to crying in sheer frustration, but then Alex’s hand was wrapped around his cock and he was stroking in counterpoint to his hips, thumb gathering up the pre-come as he swept it over the tip.
“I’m gonna—’m gonna come,” Oren choked, drowning in sensation, the familiar tightening in his balls his only warning before the lightning gathered at the base of his spine burst outward.
He came in heavy, desperate pulses onto his stomach, bliss shivering along his nerves, and dimly aware that Alex had driven home, dropping his face to Oren’s throat as he spilled deep within him, hips jerking in needy, graceless time to his own orgasm.
Alex collapsed on top of him and Oren reached a wavering hand up and stroked his silky hair, floating on endorphins and joy.
It was a while before Alex stirred and pulled out with a groan and Oren sighed at the loss as Alex rolled off the bed and padded naked to the bathroom. When he came back, it was with a warm, wet towel to wipe Oren down in quick, gentle movements.
Oren cooperated dreamily, half-asleep, groping clumsily at whatever part of Alex was close, and Alex avoided his pawing with more laughter.
“Come back to bed, catâr,” Oren begged.
Alex tossed the towel into the bathroom and obeyed, gathering Oren in close and tugging the end of the blanket over both of them.
“I love you, dragă,” he whispered in Oren’s ear.
“What does that mean?” Oren said, rubbing his nose against Alex’s collarbone.
“Darling,” Alex said, pulling him closer. “Dearest, sweetheart. It’s all—everything I feel for you.”
Oren kissed Alex’s clavicle. “Luckiest bastard alive,” he mumbled, and Alex’s chest shook with silent laughter.
There was so much to do. After their honeymoon, they would go home to Flora and Mihai. Alex and Mihai were both studying for their high school diplomas, and Mihai was already talking about colleges—although he wasn’t willing to consider looking outside Wyoming just yet. Oren was sure his mother had a list as long as her arm of things she needed fixed around her house. He still had orders to fill, and he’d be able to start work on them in Texas.
And when they got back to Cheyenne, he had a house to rebuild, this time with an extra bedroom for Mihai.
So much to do. Oren smiled to himself, Alex’s heart thumping steadily against his ear. He couldn’t wait to get started.
Acknowledgments
Aaliya, who was there for me when I wrote this book. Even when I doubted every word, you never lost faith in it and me. Tell Gary I love him. Chris is okay too, I guess.
Sarah, who listens to what I want out of a cover and somehow magically produces either exactly what I was envisioning or something even better. I don’t know how you do it but I live in awe.
Ioana, my Romanian cultural advisor. This book really does exist because of you. Thank you for lending me your lovely language and helping me make Alex and Mihai as real as possible. Any mistakes are my own.
And all my readers, on Tumblr, Twitter, and Facebook—thank you for embarking on these journeys with me and keeping me so excited to give you more. I’m grateful for you all every day.
About the Author
Michaela Grey told stories to put herself to sleep since she was old enough to hold a conversation in her head. When she learned to write, she began putting those stories down on paper. She resides in the Texas Hill Country with her cats, and is perpetually on the hunt for peaceful writing time.
When she’s not writing, she’s watching hockey or blogging about writing and men on knife shoes chasing a frozen Oreo around the ice while trying to keep her cat off the keyboard.
Tumblr: greymichaela.tumblr.com
Twitter: @GreyMichaela
Facebook: www.facebook.com/GreyMichaela
E-mail: greymichaela@gmail.com
Want to find out when her next book comes out? Sign up for her newsletter here or follow her on Amazon here
Also by Michaela Grey
Beloved Scars
Broken Halo
Broken Rules
Broken Trust
Broken Promises
Blindside Hit:
A Toronto Wolverines Novel
Odd-Man Rush: A Seattle Kingfishers Novella
Keep reading for a sneak peek of Blindside Hit, available now and the beginning of Cold Stone Heart, coming soon from Michaela Grey!
Blindside Hit
Sneak Peek
Center Ice was a well-known gathering place for hockey players, and it catered to that demographic shamelessly, with signed pictures and jerseys of famous players on the walls and huge flat-screen TVs in every corner, playing whatever game was on. During the off-season, they played highlight reels, Liam told Etienne, towing him to a table in the back.
A cheer went up at the sight of the three of them and Etienne stopped dead in shock at the sight of most of his team gathered there, all grinning at him.
“Why?” he finally managed.
Liam clapped him on the back, hard enough to knock him forward a step. “Because you don’t know how to have fun, and we’re gonna help with that.”
Rudy pointed to a chair, a smile on his dark features. “What are you drinking?” he asked as Etienne settled beside him with a nod to Logan.
Etienne shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“You may be a lost cause,” Johnny said. “Tibs, get us a pitcher of beer, would you?”
Liam headed for the bar and Etienne looked around the table. Next to Logan was Broussard, and Theo, unfailingly as sunny as Broussard was sour. Jax and Wyatt were in the corner talking, but they spared a moment to wave at Etienne.
“You guys really all came out just to make sure I’d have a good time?”
Rudy gripped his shoulder, grinning at him. “You work too hard, Tenny. You need to relax.”
“I can relax!” Etienne protested.
The faces around the table didn’t look convinced. Liam returned with two pitchers of beer and flopped down beside Johnny, who absently curved his hand over the nape of Liam’s neck.
Rudy followed Etienne’s gaze to Johnny’s hand and cleared his throat. “Ah, Tenny….”
“They told me before they press-ganged me,” Etienne said.
“And you’re okay with it?”
Etienne almost laughed at the echoing of his own question. “Seeing as I am too, yeah.”
Rudy relaxed and glanced around the table, meeting everyone’s eyes individually. Each in turn nodded as Etienne watched, confused. Finally Rudy turned back to Etienne.
“In that case, you should know most of us here aren’t straight either.”
Etienne’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry, what now?”
“Me, I’m bi,” Rudy said.
“Knew I was gay when I was twelve,” Johnny offered.
“I don’t know what I am,” Liam said. “I like hot people.”
“Kinda ace,” Theo said, shrugging. “But when I do feel… whatever, it’s guys.”
“Fuck off,” Broussard snapped.
Theo sighed. “Robert.”
Broussard glared. “Whatever. I’m gay, I guess. Probably.”
Logan signed something. Rudy watched his hands and turned to Etienne.
“He says he’s gay. Also, that reminds me, I need to get you and the rookies enrolled in the next sign language class at the university. Logan will go with you, give you some extra signs you’ll need to know to be able to talk to him.”
Etienne nodded and Logan gave him a smile surprising in its sweetness.
“Hey, so what’s the deal with Coach?” Etienne asked Rudy.
Rudy’s eyes tightened and he took a sip of beer.
“Come on,” Etienne said. “He almost never comes out of his office unless it’s to yell at us. You do all the actual play-making and strategy sessions. What’s up with that? Why is he even employed?”
Rudy sighed and set his beer down. “It’s not something I can talk about. Don’t cross him, though.”
A shiver of unease slid down Etienne’s spine. “Why not?”
“Just trust me,” Rudy said.
Someone roared with laughter from two tables away, making everyone turn and look. A group of men were clustered together around another, standing and holding his mug of beer in one unsteady hand.
“Hey,” Johnny said, eyes narrowing. “Isn’t that….”
“Adam Caron?” Etienne said. “Yeah, I think it is.” He couldn’t look away. Adam was even better looking in person than on the ice, his dark hair falling over a high forehead into big, dark blue eyes. He was grinning at something one of his companions had said, those full, kissable lips curving into an infectious smile that somehow lightened Etienne’s mood just by looking at it.
“Is that—are those the fucking Freeze?” Broussard said, craning his neck to see.
“So it would appear,” Theo said. He sounded faintly starstruck. Logan patted his shoulder, lips twitching. “I’ve only ever seen Adam skate,” Theo said. “Goddamn he’s hot. Ow!” He rubbed his thigh as Broussard glared at him. “I’m allowed to think other guys are hot, Rob. It doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly stopped thinking you’re hot.”
“Speech, speech!” someone shouted.
Adam laughed and shook his head.
“Didn’t he just get called up permanently by the Wolverines?” Johnny asked.
“That must be why they’re celebrating,” Liam said. “Let’s invite them over.” He was out of his chair and heading for the other table before anyone could stop him.
“Gosh, I love how impetuous he is,” Johnny said into his beer. “That never backfires ever.”
Liam was talking to the other group, which turned as one to inspect their table. Rudy and Johnny waved as Etienne tried to figure out how to make a run for it, but it was too late. All six men were on their feet and following Liam back over.
“Rudy!” Adam said, eyes sparkling. Rudy jumped to his feet to greet him.
“I honestly wasn’t sure you’d remember me,” he admitted.
“Have you seen you skate?” Adam demanded. “Of course I remember you!”
“Adam and I attended a training camp together last year,” Rudy told the table.
“And you’re just now telling us this?” Liam said, sounding betrayed.
“Join us?” Rudy asked Adam.
For several minutes, it was a mad scramble of finding chairs and rearranging to make sure everyone had room enough to sit down, and when the dust settled, Adam was sitting next to Etienne, crammed in so tight their legs were pressed together under the table.
“Hi,” Adam said, offering a hand. “Adam Caron.”
Etienne stifled a laugh. “I know who you are. Etienne Brideau. I play for the Thunder.”
Adam nodded sagely. “I’ve heard your name.”
“You have?”
Adam had clearly worked his way through more than a few beers. His eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed, and he swayed ever so slightly when he moved.
“Mm-hmm,” he said, leaning toward Etienne. “The new left wing. Footwork like Astaire and a right hook like Ali. You’re going places.” He grinned. “Like me. I’m going places. I’m going to the Wolverines. Did you hear?”
“Yeah,” Etienne said. His head spun, and he didn’t think it was the beer he’d barely touched. Adam Caron—the Adam Caron—had heard of him. Had heard good things about him. He dragged himself together. “Sorry, uh—congratulations, man, that’s amazing news.”
Adam’s smile widened. “Thanks. I’m celebrating.”
“I can tell,” Etienne said, fighting a smile.
Adam leaned in, lips to Etienne’s ear. “I saw you watching me. Do you want to celebrate with me?”
Etienne froze. He hadn’t heard right. There was no way Adam Caron had just hit on him. But Adam was smiling at him from an inch away, the intent clear in his eyes.
