Both of the fan favorite books in the Training Season series now available as a box set!
TRAINING SEASON
Can a cowboy’s firm hand discipline this feisty figure skater—on and off the ice?
Matty Marcus fears he doesn’t have what it takes to achieve his Olympic dream. His self-esteem is at an all-time low after figure skating coaches and skating judges have told him he’s not skinny enough, good enough, or masculine enough to win.
Matty wishes he could afford the kind of coach he needs, a top-notch one who specializes in keeping their skaters focused. But those coaches are ridiculously expensive, and Matty is financially strapped.
Until a lucrative house-sitting gig brings him to rural Montana.
And to Rob.
No one has ever looked at Matty the way rural cowboy and single dad Rob Lovely looks at him. No one has ever touched him, loved him, and healed him from the inside out. No one has ever made him feel so valuable and adored. Worthy. Strong.
No one has ever taught Matty how to fly. Or how to lose.
Rob might be a cowboy who knows nothing about figure skating, but after only a few months, he’s trained a new kind of bravery into Matty’s soul.
However, to achieve his Olympic dream, Matty will have to face the ultimate test. Has he truly learned what it means to win—on and off the ice—during his training season?
Training Season is a MM romance with a feisty, flamboyant figure skater and an easy-going dominant cowboy, opposites attract, hurt-comfort, single dad, winter holiday highlights, love beyond reason, multiple steamy scenes, and a well-earned happy ending. This book contains BDSM elements.
TRAINING COMPLEX
Can Rob help Matty defeat his inner saboteur for good?
It’s summer in the city and figure skater Matty Marcus is still desperately in love with Rob Lovely. Although he misses the thrill and pressure of competition, he couldn’t be happier in their new life together, so he doesn’t understand why he’s secretly indulging in his eating disorder again and requesting harder, more intense BDSM scenes. Matty’s scared he’s losing control, and he has to believe that Rob, as always, will save him.
Rob is equally crazy about Matty. He finally has the vivacious man he adores in his arms every night. But taking it to the limit has always been the name of Matty’s game, so Rob’s love must be stronger than Matty’s self-sabotage. Even when Matty’s inner demons try to take control, Rob is committed to find their way back. Together.
Loving Matty isn’t always easy—but for Rob it’s always worth it.
Training Complex is an MM romance about a feisty, self-sabotaging former figure skater and the steady, strong man who loves him. It features opposites attract, hurt/comfort, domestic discipline, chastity play, and a heartfelt and epic happy ending. No cheating, no threesomes, and no breakups—just two amazing men fighting for their love!
Content warning for disordered eating, misapplied BDSM, and mental health issues.
Training Season #1
Chapter One
Early Fall
“Montana? You must be joking.”
“It’s beautiful there.”
“So?”
“And you’ll be paid eight thousand dollars a month,” Matty’s mother replied. “Where else are you going to find that kind of money? To skate at the Olympic level again, you’ll need to hire coaches, trainers, and pay for costumes. You’ll have to consider the cost of a choreographer, not to mention rink time. You know this.”
“Yeah, but do I look like a rugged, plaid-shirt wearing, Brokeback Mountain kinda gay? No, I do not.” Matty rubbed his lower back. The injury still ached, but it wasn’t breathtaking anymore. At least he could skate again and wasn’t stuck in bed, sweating in pain every time he moved.
“For eight thousand a month, Matty, you can’t afford not to be.”
Matty sat down on his bed and looked around the room. Pictures and posters still decorated the walls in a juvenile profusion of color. Gifts from his fans cluttered the vanity and desk, and filled the big trunks lining one wall. Everything from handmade dolls of himself to cross-stitched Christmas stockings featuring him as a skating Santa were in those trunks.
Matty’s mother wouldn’t let him throw any of it away, and so the gifts collected in the most attractive antique trunks he could find. He loved all of it, of course, but if his dreams of returning to form came true, his mother might need to start renting a storage unit for all of the memorabilia.
At this point, there wasn’t much Matty wouldn’t do for money. Okay, peddle his ass—that he wouldn’t do. Theft, drugs, or gambling—no. He wouldn’t even know where to begin a profitable life of crime, and seeing the inside of a jail cell was a sure way to never skate again. Many had thought his back injury was career ending, and the last thing he needed was to finish his career by being a moron.
He’d looked into getting a job—like, a real one—but nothing paid enough to get him back on the ice, and he was under-qualified by several degrees for anything that would. But… Montana?
“Margaret is doing you a giant favor. You’ll have to apply for the job, though,” his mother said as she paced around his room. Her blouse and slacks hung on her whip-thin form, and she ran her hands through her brown-and-gray bob. “She’s on board—she wants to see you skate again. That’s the entire reason she contacted me about this. Well, one of the reasons. The other is that they really do want someone to look after the ranch while they’re in Europe. Her grandsons used to do it when Margaret and her husband travel, but they’re away at college now.”
“How do you even know this woman again, Donna?”
“Don’t call me by my first name and don’t be difficult, Matty. You know she’s been a fan of yours for years. She’s followed your career and she’s come to your competitions and shows. You’ve met her quite a number of times.”
Matty shrugged.
Donna sighed and rolled her eyes. “We email and keep in touch. She’s a bit eccentric in the way of old, wealthy people, but she’s a good woman, and she’s willing to change your life for the price of a few months light work in Montana. Think of it as patronage.”
“It’s not patronage if she wants more out of me than just my artistry.”
“Fine, think of it as a grossly over-paid job and suck it up.”
“You realize she just wants me to be her pet, don’t you? This could all be some sick tactic to get me alone in the wilderness with her. It could end up like that Stephen King novel. She’s going to kidnap me and make me into her own private skater! She’ll force me to perform for her pleasure! If I don’t, she’ll cut off my foot.”
“Matty, that’s not going to happen.”
“You don’t know that. It totally could.”
Donna puffed out her cheeks and rolled her eyes again. “Do you want to skate again, or don’t you?”
Across from his bed, in the place of honor on the wall opposite, was the tattered Ice Castles poster, old when he’d gotten it off eBay at the age of ten. It was the movie that had inspired him to skate. He’d wanted to be Lexie so badly, and he’d experienced the first deep stirrings of lust when he imagined being in Nick’s arms. He stared at him now, feeling the old thrum of longing.
His eyes skimmed over the photographs of skaters pinned all around the poster. They were a mixture of those he’d admired and some he’d loathed, but all competitors he’d been determined to bury. And he had. Until he hadn’t.
He’d spent too much time depressed after his injury. Stuck in his bed with no exercise, and, worse, he’d eaten more food than anyone could justify. He’d never weighed so much or been so out of shape since he’d started skating at the elite level when he was eleven. He was still slim by most standards, but skating had its own rules.
There was so much work to do to get back into fighting form, and sometimes the thought of it exhausted him. Still, if he never made a comeback from his injury, he’d never prove himself. Never make up for his failures. He glanced around at his mementos and sighed.
While his room at his parents’ house in Norfolk was comfortable, he still regretted moving out of his much more tastefully decorated apartment in New Jersey. After he got out of the hospital, there’d been no choice but to move back home to Virginia.
Things had been tight for the family since Matty’s injury. He’d been out of competition for a whole season, missing out on prize money and also his usual income from ice shows in Japan, Russia, and South Korea. Since he wouldn’t be able to compete this season either, he’d lost his funding from the Federation and would have to prove himself all over again.
His father hadn’t been able to work since he’d nearly lost his right leg in a car wreck when Matty was nine. The money he’d received from the resulting lawsuit had all gone into Matty’s skating career years ago.
Without Matty’s income, his mother had taken on a second job. He knew how miserable she was making phone solicitations five nights a week just to make ends meet. Worse, his brother, Joseph, had dipped into his college savings a few times to help with the bills.
If Matty wanted to get life back on track for all of them, he needed the cash this job provided. He gazed thoughtfully at the Ice Castles poster again. If Lexie could skate again after losing her sight, then he could come back from this. And he would. Or he wasn’t Matty Marcus.
“So, what do I have to do?” he asked his mother, who waited patiently.
She sat beside him on the bed. “Not much. Margaret wants to give you this opportunity. Consider it an extravagant and wonderful gift. But her husband needs a little convincing.”
“What does that mean?”
“Basically, he just wants to make sure you’re responsible and there won’t be any parties, or unwelcome visitors. That kind of thing.”
“Unwelcome visitors? You’re talking about Elliot.”
“I’m talking about Elliot, Joanna—”
“She’s my agent!”
“She’s not invited to Montana.”
“Strict.”
“Not just Elliot or Joanna, though. I’m also talking about Heidi, or Zarah, or Franklin, or anyone else. Matty, these people are willing to pay you a lot of money and it’s only six months. I think you can do without seeing your friends.”
“What about my training? After all I’ve been through, six more months off the ice could be the end of my career. It’s already been more than a year, Mom. I’m twenty-one. This is probably my last shot at medaling at the Olympics. It’s only two and a half years away.”
“There’s a rink twenty minutes from the ranch. You could start training again right away. Margaret said she’d ensure you had rink time, and she’d even pay for it in advance if you let her know how many hours a week. This is huge, Matty. This is so much more than eight thousand a month.”
“Assuming I get the job,” Matty said. “I still have to convince her husband.”
“Show up, look your best, demonstrate that you can take care of the horses, be polite, and say ‘sir.’ I think you’ll get the job.”
“I have to apply in person?” Matty asked.
“I bought your plane ticket this morning. You leave tomorrow.” Donna patted his leg and stood up. “Don’t pout. It’s only Montana, not Moldova.”
“If it were Moldova, I’d be able to practice speaking Russian, and, if I was really lucky, I could become a victim of human trafficking and get sold into sexual slavery. That could be really hot.”
Donna groaned. “Hello, honey? Mouth-brain filter? Engage.”
Matty sat up straighter. “Wait. Mama, how did you pay for the ticket?”
Donna patted the door frame. Matty saw her bare ring finger and tears came to his eyes.
“You should start packing for Montana, Matty. If our luck turns around, this time next year you’ll be preparing for Cup of Russia.”
Matty stared after her, a lump in his throat.
She’d sold her wedding ring—and who knew how much of her other jewelry. Her never-ending faith sometimes made him made him feel deeply ashamed. His parents had already eaten through their retirement accounts, their savings, and given everything they had to his skating. In his estimation, he hadn’t paid them back at all. He’d been distracted and irresponsible, and squandered his opportunities.
After his disappointing performance at the last Olympics, and his injury, he was humbled that his mother still believed in him so completely.
Montana it was.
***
Matty called his best friend as soon as humanly possible, which, given the short notice afforded by his travel plans, was the moment the plane touched down in Missoula. Elliot was not pleased.
“You’re in Montana? What the fuck, bitch?”
Matty told him about the job. “It’s in some place called Whitefish.”
“Where’s that?” Elliot asked.
“God only knows. Probably just this side of hell.” He remembered the sight of the snow-dusted mountains as he’d flown in. “A beautiful hell, but hell all the same.” Matty paused by an airport kiosk to pull a mirror out of his bag. He checked his carefully tousled brown hair and smoothed out his eyebrows. His brown eyes shone clear in the mid-morning light from the windows, and his full lips were rosy as he touched up his lip gloss. “Just think of what you know about the kind of people who go fly fishing and drive cattle and then put me in the middle of that vision. I’m probably going to experience a hate crime here.”
“For sure,” Elliot drawled, sounding amazed. “If you get the job I guess you won’t be at my unbirthday party this weekend.”
“Not unless it’s in Montana.”
“Sucks. I bought a great Mad Hatter hat for you.”
“Mad Hatter? I don’t think so Elliot. I was supposed to be Alice.”
“You’re Alice every year. It’s my turn to be Alice, you queen.”
“Whatever. You can be Alice all you want because I’m in Montana. Kill me now.”
“I can’t. Your mom would be mad.”
Matty snorted.
“So, like, are there gonna be horses and shit?”
“And horse’s shit.”
“Oh, girl.”
“Yeah.”
Near the baggage claim, Matty spotted a medium-height, dark-haired woman with liberal gray woven in, wearing a fur coat and big glasses. She held a sign that read Matthew Christopher Marcus. She looked about ten years older than his mother, and she started waving her arms like mad trying to get his attention.
“I need to go. I’ve got to be responsible and charming. Wish me luck.”
“Luck,” Elliot said with a lack of sincerity that made Matty think Elliot had already lost interest in his situation. Elliot had a short attention span that way. Matty couldn’t really blame him. He’d always been distractible since they’d met in third grade and bonded over the box of glitter crayons the art teacher allowed only her favorite and most fabulous students to use.
“Matty, darling,” Margaret Page said as she enveloped him in a massive, Dior J’Adore-drenched hug. She was taller than him by an inch at least, and Matty rose on his toes so that his chin fell against her shoulder. “Look at you! Fit as a fiddle now, aren’t you? How do you feel? Strong? Ready to train?”
She patted him all over as she talked, grabbing his arms and pulling them out from his sides, examining him like she was a long-lost aunt looking him over to see how much he’d grown.
But Margaret was nice enough, and Matty had no trouble keeping up his end of the conversation during the nearly three-hour drive from Missoula to the ranch. As they drove through miles and miles of farm land with the glorious mountains pulling Matty’s attention constantly, she’d interrupt their conversation to wave her hand out the window and say, “This is Kalispell, a good place to look for things you might not find in Whitefish,” or “That’s Flathead Lake, the biggest freshwater lake west of the Mississippi.”
This last she said with great pride in her voice. Matty, overcome by the beauty of the lake, the mountains, and the vast, endless sky, only nodded mutely. It wasn’t like him to be left speechless, but the natural beauty around him took his breath away.
During their drive, Margaret asked him some hilarious questions about who was “dating” who in the skating world. The air quotes were Margaret’s and she clearly wanted to know who was getting it on. He dished a little dirt to make her happy—and he hoped to get the job—but he kept the biggest insider secrets to himself. He did have a tell-all book to pen one day, assuming he could get back in the game at all.
Whitefish, the closest town to the ranch, was about as quaint as one could imagine, tucked as it was beneath the imposing, impossibly beautiful Big Mountain, and surrounded on all sides by the Rockies. It sort of made Matty want to throw up a little in his mouth. Not because he couldn’t appreciate the loveliness of it, but because he was going to end up with a boot in his teeth before this thing was done. He just knew it. Gay boys like him didn’t belong in rugged towns like Whitefish.
Margaret drove out of her way to show Matty the ice rink. “It isn’t much, darling, but the Stumptown Ice Den is what we’ve got, and it should do the trick. Time’s paid up through March. Twenty hours a week—just schedule in advance when you’ll be there, of course. If you need more, you can work that out with management.”
“That’s too much,” Matty said.
“Nonsense, consider it a bonus for doing this for us. Your mom said you could use the money and the time to focus. I want to see you take the gold at Worlds next year, Matty. Make a big comeback. And when you’re in the Kiss and Cry, and the camera is on you, it wouldn’t be amiss for you to mouth, ‘Thank you, Margaret,’ all right? I might just wet my pants if you did that.”
“Mrs. Page, I sincerely hope I don’t deny you that particular dry cleaning bill.”
“I think since you’ll be living in my house, dusting my trinkets, eating on my plates, and taking care of my horses, you can call me Margaret. In fact, I insist on it.”
“Done,” Matty agreed. It certainly sounded like he had the job.
The ranch itself was another twenty minutes outside of Whitefish, and Matty’s back was starting to ache from sitting before they even got there. He’d need to stretch plenty once he got settled to prevent a setback. He dug around in his bag for ibuprofen and a bottle of water, and downed a few pills.
“I’ve done my share of traveling,” Margaret said. “And I’m getting ready to travel again, but let me tell you, Matty, this land is some of the most beautiful in the world, if I do say so myself.”
Matty had done his share of traveling, too, and he had to agree with her.
“George and I moved here after his heart attack. He was only forty-two at the time and I somehow just knew that living here, in the fresh mountain air, he’d heal up just fine. That was twenty years ago now. He’s strong as an ox, Matty. That’s what Montana does for a person.” She patted his knee and smiled at the road ahead of them. “I hope it works its healing magic on you too.”
When they pulled up alongside two long driveways that seemed to stretch back into forever, Margaret got out and opened the blue mailbox. Before getting back behind the wheel, she knocked the snow off the red one next to it.
“Rob’s box,” she said, as though that explained a lot.
Matty just nodded.
As she drove up the pine-lined drive toward the house, she muttered, “Bills, bills, I swear that’s all we get. I’ve got giant, pre-addressed and metered envelopes in a file in the desk in the library. I’ll show you when we get inside. Just dump the bills in there every week and send them to our accountant. There’s another file with envelopes for the other mail—except for junk mail, which I trust you to sort out—and you can just send that along to my sister every week. She’ll handle it from there.”
“I’m inspired by your organizational skills,” he said, feeling warm and fuzzy toward her. “I’m kind of a freak about that kind of thing myself.”
Margaret looked pleased. “Listen, you’ve got the job, okay, hon? So long as you don’t offend George, and I’m sure you won’t. But, just… well, be yourself.”
Matty smiled. “I can’t be anything else.”
George Page met them in the driveway in front of the two-story, log and stone ranch house, wearing a cowboy hat, a white button-up shirt, and carrying a rifle. He was not smiling, and he eyed Matty like he was John Wayne about to challenge him to a gun fight.
“So, you’re the skater.”
“I am, Mr. Page. Sir,” Matty said, shivering in the cold air. He pulled his coat around him a little tighter and smiled, willing the man to love him like every good and righteous human being in the world ought. “I also love horses.”
The man’s eyes became less narrow. He rested the butt of the shotgun on his foot as he said, “Horses?”
“Yes, sir. In fact, I had a horse as a kid. I adored him. His name was Butterscotch Brier.” Matty smiled fondly. He’d had a soft yellow-ish mane and a smooth caramel-colored coat. Matty had loved standing on a stool to brush him down. The methodical work had soothed him. He’d also loved how the wind had rushed over his skin as he rode, digging his heels into Butterscotch to go faster. The sensation of flying through air was something he loved about skating too.
“What happened to him?”
“Well, I had to sell him once I started my figure skating career. He wasn’t getting enough attention.”
“Hmmph.” George looked unimpressed.
“But I grew up in the country. Before my dad hurt his leg, we had a small farm in Virginia,” Matty went on, forcing likeability into every molecule of his body. “I’m excited to get some time away from the city. I’ve missed the countryside. Though this,” he motioned toward the mountains and the piney brush that fell away into beautiful strips of land, “is so different from where I’m from. It’s stunning.”
George’s face registered something that appeared to be interest, so Matty forged ahead. “Oh, and I love mucking out stalls. It’s satisfying to get them fresh again. Makes me feel like I’ve really accomplished something.”
George said, “You got the job when you said you were familiar with horses. Don’t go lying about liking to muck out stalls. Blowing smoke up my ass isn’t gonna win you any points.”
Matty could see why this guy was rich. He didn’t tolerate any nonsense. Still, Matty hadn’t been lying. He’d never been exactly normal in his fetish for cleanliness, but his horse had always appreciated it.
“I’m a clean freak,” Matty said. “I really do like cleaning horse stalls.”
George was speculative, but he finally said, “Okay, then. Margaret wants it to be you, and I don’t have time to deal with this, so I’ll let her have you as her little pet project. Let me tell you the rules, son. No parties. No friends from wherever to keep you company. I’m taking a risk on you, not your boyfriend or your best girlfriend, got it? If you need help with the horses, Rob Lovely’s ranch is next door, and he’s trustworthy. Bought this land offa him after his daddy died. You can rely on him if you have any problems. You agree to that and you’ve got eight thousand dollars a month in your bank account, a car to drive for the next six months, and a place to live. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes, sir,” Matty said, sticking out his hand to shake on it. “We most certainly do.”
Training Complex #2
Chapter One
The thudding of Mr. Wegman’s footsteps on the floor above woke Rob from a dream of snow-capped mountains and brilliant sunlight. In the dream, Rob had sat astride a horse and watched Matty skate his old Olympic program on a frozen-over pond surrounded by daisies. Blinking his eyes open, Rob drifted in the space between the dream and their small New York apartment.
At the sound of Mr. Wegman’s boots coming off in a one-two thump as he tossed them on the floor, Rob willed his mind back to the image of Matty leaping into the air, dark hair twirling, smile radiant and strong thighs taut with effort. Mr. Wegman coughed loudly, and his unsteady bed made a grating groan. Then it was quiet. The sounds of the city at night were held at bay by the white noise of the standing fan, and Rob pulled Matty’s warm, naked body closer. The darkness of their ground-floor bedroom tugged at him, urging him back into the liminal place that promised more of Matty’s sunshine-smile.
The smell of evergreens lingered, and he rolled his head, sleepily recognizing that the scent wafted up from his pillow. Oh, yes, his shampoo. Still new. He’d purchased it with Ben a few weeks before because it’d reminded him of home. And Matty had liked it too, calling him his cowboy and riding him hard. Rob’s dick stirred at the memory, and he slid his hand down Matty’s side, dragging him flush against his own naked body. He pushed his hips against Matty’s muscled ass, and felt him respond in his sleep.
He didn’t know what time it was. If Mr. Wegman had just come back from his bar, it must be after eleven but probably before two in the morning. The clock by the bed had a book propped in front of it to block the glowing numbers. He’d put it there the night before to block out that little bit of extra light, trying to get the room as black as possible in the city. Matty stirred against him, arching his ass back to push against Rob’s cock.
“Sweetheart?” Rob whispered, reciprocating the thrust. “You awake?”
“The stomp-monster woke me up.” Matty’s voice was sleep-blurred and warm.
Rob snorted softly, tucking his nose into Matty’s hair and breathing in. “You smell good.”
Matty’s soft giggle caressed Rob.
He opened his mouth to press a wet kiss to Matty’s throat. “Yummy.”
Matty shivered under the thin green blanket and pushed his ass back again, a hint of amusement under his next words. “Oh, no. I hope I’m not yummy enough to eat.”
“Mmm. I think you just might be.”
Matty’s cock was hard in Rob’s hand, curving perfectly against his palm. “I hope you aren’t the Big Bad Wolf,” Matty whispered, his tone playful and falsely earnest. “Here I am, a poor lost boy in the evil, bad city. Can you help me find my grandmother’s house?”
Rob laughed against Matty’s shoulder, kissing his soft skin, and running his hands up and down Matty’s back, feeling each dip of muscle and bone, each inch familiar and his. “I’m always happy to help a lost boy find his way,” he said gruffly, his cock sliding between Matty’s ass cheeks. The friction was wonderful as he rubbed it up and down Matty’s warm crack.
“So you won’t eat me?”
“Well, I can’t promise that.”
Matty sighed and moved his hips to work Rob’s dick between his cheeks more. “Will it hurt?”
“Maybe. But only if you like it to hurt.”
Matty turned in his arms, Rob’s cock sliding free from the warmth of his cleft, and pressed their chests together. Rob reached to hold Matty’s cock in his hand again, treasuring the rightness of it. In the soft, ever-present city light that slipped under the blinds, Matty’s smile glinted. “Oh, Mr. Wolf, I like it to hurt so much.”
Rob kissed him hard, holding his jaw and rubbing his fingers against the growing stubble. Pulling away, he pressed his forehead to Matty’s, feeling his breath against his lips. He slid his fingers down Matty’s neck, touching the place where his pulse beat so firmly.
“Do you love me?” Matty asked quietly. “As much as I love you?”
“Yeah. More.”
“No, I love you more.” Matty kissed him again and Rob let himself fall into it, reveling in their bodies moving together, their cocks pushed side by side, and their gasps and sighs filling each other’s mouths.
Matty broke away, kissing a line by Rob’s jaw. “You’re not so mean, Mr. Wolf. I thought you said you were going to eat me and make it hurt.” He bit gently at Rob’s earlobe. “But I don’t feel any teeth.”
“Still want to play, huh?”
“Yeah. That okay?”
“That’s fucking great, sweetheart. You want the Big Bad Wolf to eat you up? Use his sharp teeth until you cry? Hmm, poor little Matty lost in the city?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“All right.” Rob took hold of Matty’s hips and rolled him flat on his stomach, sliding beneath the covers to spread his ass and breathe on his asshole. “This looks delicious. Have you ever let anyone taste it?”
“Oh, no! Oh please don’t!” Matty laughed softly as he said the words, unable to stay in character. “It’s not right, Mr. Wolf. It’s a naughty place.”
“Naughty places always taste the best.”
Matty caught his breath as Rob licked his hole. “Don’t do it again, please. Please, Mr. Wolf.”
Rob drove his face between Matty’s ass cheeks, closing his eyes and pressing his tongue to Matty’s hot asshole. He pushed Matty’s legs apart and rubbed his own cock against the soft sheets as he continued. He opened Matty’s hole with his tongue, chewing at the tender skin with his teeth.
Matty bucked beneath him, stifling his sounds with his pillow before lifting up to say over his shoulder, breathless and eager, “Oh, Mr. Wolf, that feels so good. Fuck, eat me harder. Bite me. Make it hurt.”
Rob plied Matty’s cheeks even farther apart, biting harder than usual. Matty surged back, crying out, “More! Again! Please, please, Rob. Oh, please bite me hard.”
Rob bit the apple of Matty’s right butt cheek and then hauled himself up, covering Matty’s slim back with his chest and sliding his cock into Matty’s spit-slick crack, stroking over his hot hole again and again. He lowered himself fully and kissed Matty’s neck, biting at his shoulders and clasping both of his hands in his own.
Matty gripped back. “Love feeling you, Rob. Love you on top of me like this. Feel so safe with you.” He sounded strained, like it was harder to breathe, but he wrapped his ankles back over Rob’s calves, holding him there. “Want you to come for me. Are you gonna come for me, Mr. Wolf?”
“How does a lost boy like you know about dirty things like that?” Rob whispered and Matty laughed again.
“Maybe I’m going to eat you instead,” Matty murmured. “Maybe my ass will devour your cock and make you come so hard you forget everything else in the whole world. And you’ll be my love slave forever.”
“Mmm, how would that work?”
Matty lifted his ass up as much as he could with Rob’s weight against him. “Fuck me and I’ll show you.”
Rob stretched over Matty far enough to get the lube from the bedside table drawer, and then kissed him, messy and sideways, while he slicked his dick and rubbed lube over Matty’s asshole.
“Yeah, I’m ready. Please, just—yes, oh yes. Fuck.” Matty moaned, and Rob let out a low groan as he pushed the head of his cock against Matty’s asshole and the ring of muscle gave around him.
“Not so dangerous now, huh, Mr. Wolf?” Matty gasped, but he sounded strained and his asshole was tight on Rob’s cock.
“Oh, I’m plenty dangerous, sweetheart.” He plunged in harder, and Matty writhed under him. “Feel that? Enough bite for you?”
“Fuck, Rob, so good.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, fuck yes.”
Rob smiled. In their safe room, darkness curving over and around them, Rob breathed in the scent of a no-longer-sleepy, fully-aroused Matty, and held him tightly as he fucked him hard. Each gasp, each jolt of pleasure, each touch a reminder of their love and connection. His heart bloomed with love as the game fell away and it was just him and Matty, just their pleasure and affection, their kissing and tender touches.
“I love you,” Matty whimpered.
“Can you come for me?” Rob muttered, rolling onto his back and pushing Matty off his cock. “Ride me. Come on my chest. Hold my hands and don’t touch yourself.”
“Fuck,” Matty said, clambering onto him and seating himself eagerly on Rob’s dick. The heat of his ass swallowed Rob’s cock and he groaned, biting his lip and gazing up in the half-light to watch Matty’s beautiful body writhe and twist. He gripped both of Matty’s hands, twining their fingers together, and watched as Matty worked, angling himself for the most pressure on his prostate, the most pleasure from his cock bouncing as they fucked.
“Show me. I want to see it. Shoot for me.”
“Oh God…”
Matty tossed his head back and then dropped his chin down again, staring Rob right in the eye and saying with radiant intensity, “This is how I love you.”
Rob opened his mouth to say he loved Matty too, just like this, on him, over him, taking his cock like the beautiful champion he truly was. But before he could, Matty’s asshole gripped him tightly, the rhythmic pulse of his orgasm starting there. Rob’s balls drew up, his pleasure drawn aching and tight, and he stared up at the shadows of Matty’s face as they came together. Matty crooned, his eyes on Rob’s, and his stomach and thighs convulsing. Hot splashes of come spurted against Rob’s chest as he pumped his release into Matty’s tight, clenching body.
“Yes, Rob,” Matty moaned. “Yeah, yeah.”
Matty squeezed Rob’s fingers and then released them to grab his own cock to prolong the last of his cresting pleasure. When Matty started to quake, Rob drew him down for a kiss. “Love you,” he whispered against Matty’s soft lips. “Love you so much.”
“I’ve captured you now, Mr. Wolf. You’ll be my love slave forever.”
Rob laughed and held Matty to his body, still trembling. “Isn’t that the truth?”
The city carried on around them, but they were quiet, safe, and tired. Matty left the bed to get a wet washcloth and cleaned them both up, and then Rob pulled him over to his side of the bed, away from the windows and the dawn that would come too soon.
“G’night,” Matty whispered. He yawned, curling his back against Rob’s side and pulling the extra pillow between his knees the way he liked it. “Was it good for you?”
“Loved it, sweetheart. Always love it with you.”
Matty smiled sweetly and made a soft, sleepy sound. The darkness and the groan of the pipes slowly lured Rob back to sleep, and though the snow-capped mountains never returned to his dreams, he rode in a forest wearing a wolf-fur coat, looking for Matty in the trees.
***
Matty’s iPhone read twenty minutes after four in the morning and played Miley’s “#GETITRIGHT” through its tinny little speakers. He danced around their little Brooklyn bathroom while he touched up his face, adding a hint of glossy lip shine and a touch of color to his cheeks. Dancing through his favorite part, he swung back around to the mirror, lip-syncing and batting his eyelashes.
Still shaking his hips, he picked up the eyeliner and mascara, preparing to brighten his dark eyes and darken his long lashes. But as Miley faded out and a heartfelt ballad began, he remembered he’d be teaching Sabrina for what was probably the last time. He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out. He set aside the eye makeup. He’d be a big enough mess when he said goodbye without the added drama of eyeliner and mascara running down his cheeks.
He pressed skip on iTunes until he found something upbeat again. Running cold water over his fingertips, he dabbed them against his hot eyelids. Then he evaluated himself in the mirror, twisting a piece of his dark hair down over his forehead for a rakish, windblown look that would soon be made real enough. The hot summer breeze that tore down the corridors of the city had left him a frizzy mess the day before.
After checking for runaway makeup on his black running shorts and white tank, he paused the iPhone music, snapped off the bathroom light, and headed into the bedroom to grab the rest of his things for work.
Fragile near-dawn bled through the window over the bed. Rob’s blond head was half hidden by the thin green sheet wrapped around his body. Matty carefully clicked on the desk lamp to keep from tripping. Rob made a soft snuffling sound, and Matty smiled tenderly, tiptoeing closer to get a better look.
Rob might be five years older and wiser than when they’d first met, but he was also five years more handsome as far as Matty was concerned. Blond stubble grew on his strong jaw line and his lashes lay like small, gold fans against his cheek. The upturned edge of his well-proportioned mouth was made to fit perfectly against Matty’s own. Beautiful.
“What time is it?” Rob murmured, his eyes still shut and voice creaking sleepily.
“Four-thirty. You don’t have to get up yet. I just wanted to look at you before I left.”
Rob flung an arm out and dragged Matty down against him. Chest hair bristled against Matty’s cheek, and Rob’s warm, sweet-smelling skin felt so good under his hands that he wanted to crawl back in and make a morning of it. He kissed Rob’s chest and collarbones, resting his face against Rob’s neck and taking in slow, deep breaths. The peace and gentleness of Rob’s arms seeped into him. It was a balm against the tough world outside their door—against the demanding voice in Matty’s own head.
“Stay with me.”
Matty reluctantly pulled away. “I’ve got ice booked.”
Rob made a sad little sound but released him. “Missed you last night.”
Matty’s stomach did a silly little flip. How was it possible that Rob still made him feel so squirmy inside? “You had me in the middle of the night. Remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” Rob winked. “Don’t get lost in the city today.”
Matty grinned.
“But I meant yesterday evening. We barely had time together before we hit the hay.”
“Then you shouldn’t have stayed out so late playing with your ex-wife,” Matty teased, running his hand through Rob’s hair and down the side of his face to feel the stubble along his knuckles.
Rob snorted. “We were having so much fun talking finances I just couldn’t bring myself to break away.”
“Money. My favorite.”
“When it means you get to spend it, sure.” Rob sighed, his mouth hardening a little and tiny stress lines appearing around his eyes. “Which reminds me, I need to talk to Bing about the goats. If we aren’t going to get some kind of payout soon, I may need for him to buy me out of my investment.”
“No!” Matty squeezed Rob’s shoulder. “We’ll figure something else out.” He had a call in to Julien Alban asking about the possibility of skating some shows with him in Asia at the end of the summer. If he was lucky, he’d be able to bring in somewhere between three to six thousand dollars a show. Not enough to bring them up in the world, but it’d be a nice little bundle to help tide them over. “The goat farm will pay off eventually. We just have to be patient.”
“You? Patient?”
Matty punched his arm gently. “I can be extremely patient.”
“I know you can, sweetheart.” Rob rubbed knuckles over his tired eyes, which didn’t look green so much as gray in the low light. “You’re right. The goats are going to pay off. After all, it was a brilliant idea.”
“Your idea.” Matty chuckled.
“Yep. By the way, Anja sends her love.”
“Did hearts come out of her eyes? You always promised me hearts from her eyes, and I’ve never seen it yet.”
“They’ll come eventually.”
“It’s been a hard sell.”
Rob chuckled again. “Well, you did break my heart. But she’s almost over it.”
“Jeez, it’s only been three years, but okay.” Matty rubbed away the lip gloss trail on Rob’s chest, shoulders, and neck.
“She’s just overprotective. You know that.”
“L-oh-L. Understatement. At least she’s nice to me.”
“She’s coming around. Oh, and she wants to take us out to dinner for our anniversary.”
Matty swallowed down the objection that rose immediately to his lips. Anja’s idea of a good place for dinner was vastly different from his own. Everywhere Anja liked served plates with ten thousand calories per bite and so much extra fat cooked in that it made his arteries ache just thinking about it.
“Sounds good,” he murmured, not wanting to get into it with Rob. He trailed his fingers down Rob’s chest, smoothing over his crinkle of chest hair and tracing down to his morning wood. It was hot and hard, and Matty rubbed the backs of his fingers against the rigid, velvety length.
Rob captured his hand and held it in place. His cock swelled even more under the combined pressure. “She’s thinking next week or the one after. Speaking of, you haven’t tried to trick me into telling you where we’re going on our trip lately.”
“Are you going to tell me now?” A zip of curiosity almost overpowered the frisson of apprehension about the proposed dinner. Matty pried Rob’s hand free, and then teased the head of Rob’s dick with the tips of his fingers. Wetness welled up at the slit, and Matty felt an answering thrum in his own body. He slid his thumb over the pretty, mushroom head, smearing the drops around.
Rob’s voice was sandpapery with drowsy desire as he murmured, “No. It’s a surprise.”
Matty left off teasing and wrapped his fingers around Rob’s dick. He squeezed, eliciting a soft, encouraging noise. It was almost distracting enough to shatter the whirl of awakened anxiety, but not quite. Hopefully Anja’s dinner plans weren’t also a surprise. He needed to be able to plan in advance what he was going to eat. “Where’s Anja planning to take us?” Calorie counts whizzed through his head and he bit down on his inner cheek to try to silence them.
“She mentioned Otto.”
You will not have pizza. You’ll have salad.
“Oh.”
“You love Otto.” Rob frowned.
Matty took a slow breath and let it out, smiling and trying to shake off the intrusive thought. “No, it’s fine. You’re right. It’ll be great.”
You’ll have a salad and, if you’re very good, some of the olives.
Matty pulled his hand away from Rob’s dick and wiped his fingers on the bed clothes, moving to get up. Rob stopped him with a hand on his leg.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Rob offered, squeezing Matty’s thigh and sliding up farther. Matty grabbed hold of Rob’s hand and lifted it, kissing his fingers.
“It’s fine. I was just thinking about everything I need to do today.”
“Right.” In the low light, Rob’s eyes went sea-water soft. “Sabrina leaves for Colorado when? Tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“You going to be okay?”
Matty shrugged. “I’m always okay.”
Rob lifted his brows. Tweaking Matty’s tight tank top, he said, “You look hot. Jogging in?”
“No, walking to the station and taking the train the rest of the way.” He leaned down and kissed Rob’s eyebrow, then his other eyebrow, and then his mouth. Pulling away he wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. Morning breath.”
“You love it.”
Matty rolled his eyes. Admittedly, if he was going to get back in the bed to stay, it wouldn’t matter that much. As it was, he suddenly had other, very amusing plans. Matty pulled back the sheet to reveal Rob’s treasure trail slipping down to his thatch of pubes and his beautiful, still-hard dick below.
Rob took it in hand and aimed the fat, rosy head at Matty. “Too bad you have to go. Up for another round?”
“Can I be the wolf this time?”
“Sure.”
Matty licked his lips and bent down, kissing the head and taking it into his mouth, letting Rob’s slowly jacking fist bang softly against his lips as he suckled.
“Mmm, take control, sweetheart,” Rob murmured.
Matty grinned. “Okay. Roll over.”
“Hmm?”
“Just roll over for me.”
Rob complied, casting a saucy look over his shoulder, and Matty knelt between his slightly spread thighs. “Well?” Rob asked, rolling his hips against the bed, making his ass flex beautifully under Matty’s kneading fingers.
“Shh. I’m enjoying myself. And plotting dirty, naughty things for your hot ass.”
“Plot faster.” Rob lifted his hips, offering his hole. “It’s been a long time. Going to fuck me?”
Matty snorted as he ran his finger down Rob’s crack, sliding in the moist heat until he reached the soft, crinkled skin of his asshole. He pressed against it gently. “Don’t get your hopes up.” Matty glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “I’ve got to leave in exactly seven minutes if I’m going to get to the train on time.”
Rob chuckled and relaxed against his pillow, spreading his legs even farther. “Oh well, if you’re just having a free look at the goods, I’m going back to sleep.” He closed his eyes and went limp.
Matty slapped his ass. “You’ve only got a few minutes before your alarm now anyway.”
“Mm-mm. We’re having employee training this afternoon. I get to sleep in.”
Matty rubbed Rob’s asshole, feeling the muscle relax under his fingers. “Lucky bastard. I never get to sleep in.”
Rob grinned, his smile wide and shining even in profile. “So are you going to do anything with this seven minutes? Or is this hole teasing all I get?” Matty slapped his rear again, and Rob laughed. “Ow! I’m not the one into being hit, sweetheart. So if you’re trying to turn me—oh!”
Matty spread Rob’s ass cheeks wide and dove down, licking wetly over his asshole. Rob groaned and pushed back for more. He smelled a little musky, but otherwise he was still clean from his shower before bed. Matty nuzzled the peach-fuzz of hair on his ass cheeks, licking his hole sweetly. When Rob reached back to hold him in place, he went to work really eating him out. Teeth, tongue, suction.
Deep, wondrous grunts and growls of encouragement drove Matty on harder and faster. His own cock demanded attention. He didn’t touch it, though, or do more than concentrate on making Rob’s universe shrink down to the tongue in his asshole—until the clock said he had two minutes to get out of the apartment.
Slapping Rob’s ass one last time and wiping a hand over his face, Matty climbed off the bed and adjusted himself.
“No,” Rob moaned. “Come back. What the hell was that?”
“It’s a new game I made up. It’s called—” Matty darted into the bathroom again, calling over his shoulder, “Good morning, starfish, my tongue says hello!”
He brushed his teeth quickly, washed his face and mouth with his creamy cleanser, and swiped the moisturizer and makeup bag from the counter. He’d re-apply on the train or at the rink.
Rob had rolled to his back when Matty returned to the bedroom, his dick hard and his chest heaving as he moved his hand over his erection. His eyes burned hot as he gritted out, “You’re not going to stay and see this through?”
Matty chuckled. “Sorry. Gotta get the train. I have faith in you. You can handle it.”
Rob’s hand worked faster over his dick, the head popping through his fist over and over. “Jerk. Tease,” he gasped. “Should never have plowed your drive in Montana.”
“Oh, sexual innuendo. My favorite.” Matty laughed.
“Brat.”
“You know it.” Matty opened the closet, which housed most of his shoes. He pulled out the pink and black Mr. Hare summer sandals he’d picked up on eBay for beyond super cheap and bent to put them on. “You must love brats.”
“Well, I love you, yeah,” Rob said, moving his hand up and down his cock, his voice gritty with desire. “So it stands to reason that—God, bend over again.”
“No time. Sorry.” He grabbed his pink tee, pulling it on over his tank top and picked up his duffel packed with his skates, a black thermal shirt, and leggings. He jammed his makeup bag into it. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
“Hey!” Rob said as Matty leaned in and kissed his mouth quickly. “Just—give me…” Rob made a half grab at Matty’s legs with his free hand, his fingers brushing against the hairs and sending a thrill up Matty’s back.
Darting away from the bed so he couldn’t be dragged down again, Matty winked. “Oh, no! Too slow, amigo!”
“Goddamn it.”
Matty blew him a kiss. “I love you! Bye!”
Matty rushed through the kitchen, and in an instant decided not to grab the bagged lunch Rob had made for him the night before.
You were in a hurry. You forgot.
Matty heard Rob’s groan of completion just as he shut the door, and the familiar, sensual sound hit him so hard that he almost headed back inside to lick up whatever mess Rob had made, and then mess him up again with his own jizz. But he girded himself against the temptation by taking another deep breath, in and out—slow and purposeful—and marched out into the already active, pre-dawn city, a gold medalist in his own mind ready for some rare alone time on the ice.
Author of the bestselling book Smoky Mountain Dreams and the fan favorite Training Season, Leta Blake’s educational and professional background is in psychology and finance, respectively. However, her passion has always been for writing. She enjoys crafting romance stories and exploring the psyches of made up people. At home in the Southern U.S., Leta works hard at achieving balance between her day job, her writing, and her family.
EMAIL: leta.blake.author@gmail.com
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