Last Defense, page 5
I could lie here, tell her I was there for a dog, but I couldn’t give a pet a home now. It would just have to be rehomed if anything happened to me.
“No, this is a personal visit.”
She blinked at me—clearly that was a new one to her—and then she looked indecisive, her eyes glancing right, to where I assume Ben was working. I could just walk over and find him, but that was going to get her all worked up about security, I could tell. I interrupted her train of thought.
“Can you tell Ben that Max the hockey player is here for him?"
She nodded and turned to leave, but she didn’t need to.
“It’s okay,” Ben called from a path to the right of us. “Come on over, Max.”
I grinned at Diana, and we parted with her looking a lot less worried.
He shook my hand. “Sorry about that. The vandalism has us all on edge.”
I wondered what itty-bitty Diana would do against a big guy like me. I thought maybe they needed to up their security and not let idiot hockey players in through the gate. I didn’t say that, though. I was too busy holding Ben’s hand and not letting go even when he tugged his away.
For a moment we stood there, and he tilted his head a little in thought.
“It took you a bit of time to find me,” he said, with a soft and secretive smile.
“Sorry, I had some hockey to play.” I released his hand, and he stepped back and away.
“Want to see some puppies?”
I was hoping that was a euphemism for sex, but no, he really wanted me to see puppies, seven of them, fat black lab puppies in a writhing group of noisy yaps and jumps. I didn’t know why they were there or what their story was, but I was lost, and fuck me if I wasn’t ready to take them all home. Right then. In the passenger seat of a cab, and the back seat, and anywhere they wanted to sit.
When I looked at Ben, he grinned at me, and shit, I was lost.
Because that smile was powerful stuff.
Chapter Five
Ben
What amazing eyes the man had.
That was what was pounding around my head as I scooped up a wriggling black ball of fur and handed it to Max. His were brownish-gold. Stunning, really. Always hot. Like a low-banked wood stove. I enjoyed looking at his eyes. Hell, I enjoyed looking at his everything. I’d always been a sucker for jocks. Liam had been one hell of a tennis player and had even entertained thoughts of going pro, but elbow issues during college had stalled those plans.
Hey, dipshit. Stop thinking about Liam. Focus on this man here. The living, breathing one with the killer smile and incredible arms.
“You like dogs?”
Max nodded, allowing the pup to slather his face with kisses reeking of puppy breath. “Oh yeah, love them.”
That was a large tick in a massive box.
“Cats?”
“Sure.”
Another box checked.
Now I had nothing. Shit. I looked around the back of the kennels, eager to find anything to talk about. Max was enjoying his face-washing, so the awkward silence dropping over us like a cloak wasn’t noticed by him as much.
Two kids on bikes pedaled past. “When I was ten, I took a header over my handlebars. Had to get ten stitches right here.”
I pointed under my chin. Max reached out and tipped up my chin with two beefy fingers.
Then he kissed the scar. Lust flared to life low in my stomach, the heat creeping out to warm my extremities, which included my dick.
“Uh, okay.” I just stood there, puppies bouncing over my shoes, and allowed the man to place a few more kisses to my throat, the one on my Adam’s apple sliding into more sucking than kissing. My cock thought the sucking was mighty fine.
“When do you get off?” he asked, voice as rough as sandpaper.
“As soon as we find somewhere to be alone.”
That made Max chuckle and me blush. I’m usually not that forward with men. It had taken me weeks to fumble-bumble around Liam, making a fool of myself, until he took pity on me and asked me out.
“I didn’t mean that.” He released my chin, and our gazes met. One eyebrow crept up his brow. “Obviously, I did mean it, but it wasn’t supposed to come out. You make me sloppy.”
“How about we get something to eat, talk a bit, and then go find somewhere to get you off?” He placed the pup down with its litter-mates.
“I need to finish getting these guys into the shelter files.”
“I can wait.” He moved back a few inches, which was a relief. Sort of. “Why are they here?”
I dashed off some notes on my iPad. “They were dumped under the Market Street Bridge.”
His eyes rounded. “Like tossed into the river in a bag?”
“No, thankfully. Just left by the water in a box.” I might have raised a lip.
“Fucking people suck.”
“That they do.” I lifted my attention from the admission information. “We’ll gather them up and put them in an isolated part of the shelter for new arrivals. Tomorrow our vet will come out and check them over, give them shots, worm them.”
“And then you can help them find homes.”
I smiled. “Fingers crossed. Puppies go fast. It’s the old dogs that no one wants.”
He seemed to drift for a moment, perhaps thinking back to an old canine friend he might have had. Then, just as fast as he’d left, he was back. Eyes snapping to me, that familiar fire kindled in the depths of amber and brown.
“Sorry, I was somewhere else.”
I waved off his concern, and we toted the puppies into solitary, which was a stretch of kennels that were separate from the main runs. No outside areas, since we didn’t know whether incoming dogs were safe for human interaction. The pups rolled over each other, glad for the bowls of chow and water Diana had set out for them. She stood off to the side, her mouth twitching, her eyes moving from me to Max as he and I talked about the pups.
Then he turned to Diana. “Think I can steal him away?”
“I think so.” She gave me the sauciest wink, then padded off.
“So, food. Did you eat lunch?”
“Ah, no, not yet. I meant to, but I was up to my ears in paperwork. Coming out to admit the pups is really Diana’s job, but I begged to do it. Being cooped up works on me after a few hours.”
“I get that.” He stepped around me and pulled open the door leading to the offices and medical room.
“Let me just get Bucky and we can go.”
“Bringing your dog?”
“I can’t leave him behind.” I tugged open my door and Bucky trotted out, tail wagging, eager to greet Max again. The big man ruffled his gray fur with a large hand between the ears.
“Going to be hard to find a place to eat with a dog,” he pointed out.
“Just leave that to me.”
An hour later we were strolling along the paths at Wildwood Lake, a wonderful park that featured wetlands, bike and running paths, and was dog friendly as long as your pooch was leashed. Max and I sat on a bench in the shade of a hundred lush trees, just off a running path, eating some hoagies we’d picked up as Bucky sat at attention, on the watch for squirrels.
I learned a lot about the man I’d been so intimate with. We both talked about our childhoods, our plans for the future, and our shared love of sports. He told me a couple of humorous stories about old girlfriends and boyfriends, which answered that big question as well.
Our tastes in music were sort of similar, although he confessed he wasn’t big into music. We liked the same movies and watched a few of the same shows on TV. He wasn’t much of a reader anymore, he admitted, but did enjoy thrillers. I had a weakness for all things Stephen King even though they scared the wits out of me. Max smiled easily, laughed even more easily, and touched me in soft, private ways he didn’t seem ashamed of.
After a small brush of his fingers over my forearm, I leaned over to press my lips to his. He never shrank back or acted afraid of being seen kissing a man.
“You ready to go get naked?” he asked, his words dancing over my lips.
“Yeah.” I had been dreaming about this big man spread over my bed, thick legs and strong arms akimbo, offering all that hairy burly man to me to do with as I wished.
We made the drive to my place. Feeling guilty as all hell, I called the shelter just to make sure my staff was okay with me stealing a couple of hours. This had never happened. Ever. I threw a peek sideways, caught sight of Max and my skin flushed. That man had some kind of wild effect on me.
I noticed the parking space for my aunts was empty and thanked God and all the angels that my aunts were off picketing some poor senator or congressman or judge today. Yes, they still drove. No one at the DMV dared to take their driver’s licenses away.
Once inside my tall, skinny house, I nervously went around opening the windows as Max meandered about, looking at the well-worn furnishings.
“Nice house. Homey. This your husband?” He lifted a picture of Liam and me back in college, both soaked from a tumble from our canoe on a trip we’d taken one spring along the Tioga River in upstate Pennsylvania.
“Yeah, that’s Liam.”
Now I felt icky. Like I was cheating on Liam somehow by bringing Max to our house.
“Do you still want this?”
My gaze snapped from the old cork coasters on the coffee table. Liam had bought those when we’d gone to New York City for a Yankees game four years ago.
“I do, yeah.” I offered him my hand. His abrasive palm slipped over my damp one. I led him upstairs to one of two bedrooms—mine, the largest. A soft summer breeze wafted in when I threw the window open. The sounds of the neighborhood drifted in. Kids playing, the steady drone of traffic, someone shouting, the wail of a far-off siren. City noises. Max pulled his shirt over his head. I reached behind me to place my wedding picture face down.
God, but he was a lot of man. Wide where he should be, lean where it counted. I stood riveted to the carpet, my ass resting on the dresser, as he nonchalantly peeled off all his clothes while his gaze and mine remained tangled.
“Looking a little rough in the daylight, huh?”
I shook my head. “Not at all.” Yeah, he had some scars. Didn’t we all? Nothing that turned me off. Far from it. All those nicks and dents from life added to his appeal, just like the small wrinkles by his amazing eyes.
He made his way across to me, long-legged masculinity and cocky walk, my cock plumping up more with each step closer.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, his hands sliding up under my shirt, pushing the collar to my chin and then tugging my shirt over and off my head. I reached for his cock, slid my fingers around it, down to the base and then back up, palming the smooth head.
Time slowed, or it seemed to. His mouth slanted over mine, his fingers plucking at my nipples as I stroked him. Then time sped up, tossing me into the bed with Max under me, my pants lying over the dresser, his cock weeping, streaking my cheek with salty precum as I rubbed my face against his prick.
We rolled and grappled, teasing with touch and tongue, laughing lightly at his knee popping or his shoulder creaking when I raised his arms over his head and nibbled my way over his biceps to the thick mat of underarm hair and then down his ribs.
“I want to fuck you,” I panted against his navel. He arched up. I speared the small indent, and he groaned. It was a thrilling sound, at least to me. Rasping and breathy, it went right to my balls, making them feel heavier.
“Yeah, fuck me, Ben.”
I slithered up over him, sweaty chest gliding over sweaty chest, and fumbled around in the drawer of the nightstand. There were no condoms, only lube.
“You got any protection?” I asked. He nodded.
“Wallet.”
A moment later I was back in bed, easing his knees up to his chest and then booting up, his tight hole on display for me. My hands were shaking so badly that rolling the condom on was tricky. I got a bit too much lube on my fingers, but he didn’t seem to care when it trickled down the crack of his ass. I guess my fingers slipping in and out of him kind of made a damp spot on my covers inconsequential.
“Get in me, Ben. And do not play around with being gentle. I can take what you got and then some.”
I threw him a defiant look. He gave me a quirky smirk. “Okay, so this is a dare is it? Like my dick can’t fuck you hard enough to make you speak in tongues?”
I took my cock in hand and patted his slick opening.
“Take it as you want, gorgeous.”
So I did. I took it just as I wanted. Thrusting into him, going as deeply as I could. Max growled in pleasure, his fingers tightening on his knees. I pushed in deeper yet, grinding my pelvis in small circles, eager to hear him make that snarling, passionate sound again. I got it. And that made me feel like a king. Pulling out, I went deep once more, and was rewarded with another guttural groan.
“Do that until I come all over myself. No going slower. Fuck me, Ben. Make me know I’m alive.”
I lifted my gaze from where we were joined. His amber eyes were ripe with emotions I couldn’t place. Lust for sure, but something else. Sadness? Fear?
He clamped down on me, squeezing my cock with his inner muscles, and I stopped worrying about much of anything. My focus fell to the rhythm, the speed, the pull of his body on mine as I pumped in and out of all that tight, hot man.
“Shit. Ah shit, shit, shit,” I huffed when I felt the surge of an impending orgasm sparking to life. Max lay under me, slick with sweat, pumping his fat cock in perfect time with my thrusts. And just like that I blew apart. Using my knees for purchase, I wiggled up even further, mad to bury myself in him far and hard. He grunted long and low and came on his chest and stomach. A few pearly drops landed on his chin. Even gripped in the madness of a world-class release, I dropped over him, losing some depth but gaining the rich, heady taste of his cum on my tongue. I lapped at the hair on his chin, then dove into his mouth, tongue slipping over his.
“Oh shit,” I said yet again when the kiss broke.
Max slung a big arm over my lower back, then stretched his legs out, grimacing slightly. He rolled us over, tacky cum sealing our chests, and plundered my mouth as if he’d never kiss a man again. I clung to him like a climbing rose, wanting nothing more than to keep this fiery intimacy going. But it couldn’t linger forever. Life had to ease back into our little afternoon delight. I snorted at myself for even thinking of that song at this moment. I touched his face with my fingertips, smoothing out the lines on his forehead as I began humming that silly song.
“Oh Christ,” Max chortled, falling to lie beside me as a warm summer wind worked on drying our skin. “You’re an idiot.”
That made me laugh out loud. “This is the kind of lunch break I need every day.”
“Tell me about it.” He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. “Morning skate, food, sex with a hot man, and a nap. Perfection.”
I snorted, then had to leave the bed, and the sexy man, to take care of the condom. I pattered out to the hall, then ducked into the lone bathroom. When I came back, Max was pulling his jeans up over his ass. Seeing that made me a little sad. I’d been hoping to steal a little more time with him.
His sexy gaze touched mine. “You think you might want to come to the next game?” That made me feel a little better. “I mean, I know we’re not freaking Washington or anything.”
He couldn’t hide his smile. Neither could I.
Which was how I found myself wedged between a glittery figure skater in makeup wearing a funky green hat with feathers, and a round little Asian woman in an orange Flyers sweatshirt at the next game.
“Ah! You see that?! That dirty pool! What you look at?”
I quickly averted my gaze from the irate woman shaking a fist at Max for leveling one of the Flyers.
“Lola, stop pestering Benton.”
I tried to look back at the other women around us—who I assumed were wives and girlfriends—but the long pheasant feather on Trent’s hat poked me in the eye.
“Oops! Sorry. Damn my feathers.” Trent handed me a lime green handkerchief to dab at my watering eye. “So, dish. Tell me how you and Max became an item.”
“Oh, well, uh…we’re not really an item. Just friends.” As if I was going to discuss Max and me with a man I’d just met thirty minutes ago.
“Mmm-hmm. Friends with benefits. Lola, what did I tell you about making that gesture at the Railers?”
“I flip off Rowe. He make bad move on my man!” The tiny woman held both middle fingers way over her head.
Trent sighed. “She never listens.” I’d never seen a more flamboyantly out man in my life, and I was thirty. “Right, so back to you and Max.”
“There is no me and Max,” I said once again, nearly missing an amazing shot on goal the Flyers goalie barely managed to block. Man, Tennant Rowe was fast. If this team faced Washington in the next round, it was going to be bedlam around the goal of my beloved team.
“Oh yes, right. There is no you and Max. I wonder why he forked up the cash for these special seats if he’s not diddling you—or you’re not diddling him—in the derrière. Lola! I mean it, you stop doing that with your mouth right now! There are children nearby!”
The pudgy woman in bright orange sat down, muttering in her native tongue. I didn’t want to know what she’d been doing with her mouth.
“Listen, Trent, I know this is going to sound rude, but can we not talk about what Max and I are doing in bed and just watch hockey?” I waved my tissue at the men on the ice.
“Ah! So you and Max are diddling each other in the derrière! I knew it! I have a sixth sense for gay naughtiness. I want details. He’s a big, bad boy in bed, I bet.”
I gaped at the man in green and yellow. “No. I’m not sharing details.”
“Spoilsport,” Trent said, then laughed lightly. I suspected the man would have all the dirt on Max and me before the night was over.
Midway through the game, my phone vibrated. I pulled it out of the pocket inside my sweater and saw it was Diana calling. Which was odd. She rarely called unless it was an emergency.
