Heated Rivalry Part 2

Kane's POV

I stepped out of the arena into the cold Toronto night, the taste of Aiden Hale still burning on my tongue. My ass ached with every step—his cum still leaking down my thigh, a filthy reminder of what we’d just done in the showers. I should’ve felt satisfied. Instead, the hunger gnawed deeper. One quick fuck against the tiles wasn’t enough. It never was with him.

I hated Aiden. Hated his perfect captain’s face, the way he barked orders like he was God’s gift to hockey, the way his body fit against mine like it was made for destruction. Most of all, I hated how badly I needed him to wreck me again tonight.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I reached the hotel. A single text from an unknown number—probably one of his burner apps.

Room 1428. Midnight. Don’t make me wait.

A dark smile tugged at my lips. So the bastard wasn’t running this time. Good. I wanted him angry. I wanted him desperate. I wanted to watch Captain Perfect lose control and admit he couldn’t stay away from me any more than I could from him.

I showered quickly in my own room, cleaning up just enough to feel the ache sharper when he fucked me again. No underwear. Just loose sweats and a hoodie that hid the bite mark he’d left on my shoulder. By 11:55 I was standing outside room 1428, heart pounding with that familiar mix of rage and raw want.

I knocked once. Hard.

The door opened almost immediately. Aiden stood there in nothing but black boxer briefs, his muscular body still damp from another shower, bruises from the game darkening across his ribs and thighs. His split lip looked worse under the hotel lights. Those sharp blue eyes locked on mine, burning with the same hate that had been simmering between us for two seasons.

“You came,” he said, voice low and rough.

“Couldn’t let you jerk off alone thinking about me,” I replied, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind me. The room was dim, only the city lights filtering through the half-drawn curtains. The king-sized bed looked untouched. Perfect.

Aiden’s jaw clenched. He grabbed me by the front of my hoodie and yanked me forward until our chests collided. “This changes nothing. I still hate you.”

“Same,” I growled, shoving him back toward the bed. “You’re still an arrogant prick who thinks he owns the ice.”

He crashed his mouth against mine before I could finish the sentence. The kiss was violent—teeth clashing, tongues fighting, the metallic tang of his split lip mixing with the heat of our breath. I bit his bottom lip hard, reopening the cut, and he groaned into my mouth, hands already shoving my hoodie up and off.

We stumbled toward the bed, shedding clothes in a frantic rush. My sweats hit the floor. His boxers followed. Naked, hard, and breathing like we’d just finished a shift on the ice, we hit the mattress. I landed on top, straddling his hips, our cocks sliding together hot and leaking.

“Fuck, you’re still dripping from earlier,” Aiden muttered, one hand gripping my ass, fingers digging into the bruise he’d left in the shower. His touch sent sparks up my spine.

“Whose fault is that?” I shot back, grinding down against him. “You filled me like you were trying to mark your territory.”

His eyes darkened. In one powerful move he flipped us, pinning me beneath his heavier frame. I loved it—the weight, the dominance, the way his cock pressed insistently against my hole, still slick and open from the locker room.

“You talk too much,” he snarled, reaching for the bottle of lube he’d clearly prepared on the nightstand. He squeezed a generous amount over his fingers and shoved two inside me without warning, scissoring roughly.

I arched off the bed, a broken moan tearing from my throat. “Harder, Hale. I’m not some delicate forward you need to baby.”

He added a third finger almost immediately, stretching me wide, curling them until he hit that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. My cock jerked against my stomach, leaking steadily. I hated how easily he could play my body. Hated how good it felt to let him.

“Still so fucking tight,” Aiden growled, pumping his fingers faster. “Even after I fucked you raw in the showers. Greedy little hole.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” I hissed, hips bucking up to meet his hand. My hands fisted in the sheets, knuckles white. Every thrust of his fingers sent heat coiling tighter in my gut. I wanted to hate him for making me feel this way—desperate, aching, ready to beg—but the hate only made it hotter.

Aiden pulled his fingers out abruptly, leaving me empty and clenching. He slicked his thick cock with more lube, lining up and pushing inside in one long, brutal thrust. We both groaned loud enough that I hoped the walls were soundproof. He bottomed out, balls-deep, stretching me to the limit.

“Fuck—yes—” I gasped, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him deeper.

He didn’t give me time to adjust. He started pounding into me with the same relentless fury he brought to every check on the ice. The bed creaked under us. Skin slapped against skin. Each thrust drove me higher up the mattress, his hips snapping forward like he was trying to punish me for existing.

I met every stroke, pushing back, clenching around him on purpose just to hear him curse. “That all you got, Captain? Thought you wanted to ruin me.”

Aiden’s hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my vision blur at the edges. His face hovered inches above mine, eyes wild with lust and hatred. “You’re such a fucking brat. Always have to push me.”

“Because you love it,” I rasped, voice strained under his grip. My cock was trapped between our stomachs, the friction driving me insane. “You love hating me while you’re balls-deep in my ass.”

He slammed into me harder, angling to hit my prostate with every thrust. Pleasure-pain exploded through me. I was leaking all over my abs, so close already. Aiden’s rhythm faltered for a second, a low groan escaping him as my hole clenched rhythmically around his cock.

“Come on, Rivera,” he snarled, tightening his hold on my throat. “Let me feel you fall apart. Show me how much you need my cock even though you hate me.”

The words pushed me over the edge. My orgasm hit like a body check into the boards—sudden, violent, consuming. I came untouched, thick ropes of cum painting my chest and stomach while my ass spasmed around him. A raw, broken shout tore from my throat.

Aiden kept fucking me through it, pace brutal, chasing his own release. His grip on my throat loosened just enough for me to gasp in air. His hips stuttered, and then he buried himself deep, flooding me with hot, pulsing cum. The sensation of being filled again—marked, owned—sent aftershocks rippling through me.

We collapsed together, chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat and cum. For a few long moments the only sound was our ragged breathing.

I turned my head, meeting his eyes in the dim light. That familiar smirk tugged at my lips even as my body trembled with aftershocks.

“Still hate you,” I whispered, voice hoarse.

Aiden’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t pull out. His cock twitched inside me, already half-hard again.

“Good,” he muttered. “Because I’m not done breaking you tonight.”

I laughed softly, dark and satisfied. The night was young, and the hate between us had only just started to burn hotter.