All Chapters of The Way He Looked at Me: Chapter 11 - Chapter 16

Luca Moretti povDetroit ice. Third period. Deadlocked at two–two.The Blackbirds are monsters this season fast, brutal, merciless. They were monsters last season too. Even if Bennett and I could summon whatever magic ignited between us in practice yesterday and we haven’t there’s no guarantee it would be enough. This game has been a grind from the opening faceoff. Stop. Start. Reset. Again. And far too much of it has been played in our end.The only reason we’re still breathing is our goalie. Bennett’s been unreal. An iron wall. A slab of reinforced glass. He’s moving like the universe bends for him, seeing pucks before they exist, stopping shots that should have torn the net apart. Without him, we’d already be buried.The pressure never lets up. Their Jaces crash into ours in a violent, grinding war along the boards. Every second stretches, every minute drags and in hockey, a minute is an eternity when you’re hanging on by your teeth.I’m on the bench, chugging water, pulse hammeri

“Show me your dick.”And I know whatever he’s about to do next will finish what he started.I don’t say a word as I hook my thumbs into my waistband and push my boxer briefs down.I’m painfully hard. So much it burns. I hiss, teeth clenched, when the elastic drags over the swollen head too slow, too rough. Every nerve screams.Moretti leans in.He’s so close his eyes swallow everything else dark, endless, inescapable.“You’re a mess, Princess,” he says softly. Almost gentle.I nod. Unsteady.He smiles.He lifts his hand, studies it, then drags his tongue across his palm slow, deliberate from wrist to fingertips. Then he reaches between my legs and closes his hand around me without warning.The world detonates.Every nerve ignites. Pleasure slams through me so violently I don’t even have time to breathe before it tears me apart. I come instantly so hard it folds me in half. I crash forward onto my hands and elbows, choking on the sound that rips out of me as my body convulses.I’m wre

Luca Moretti povShort story: I owe Tyler Bennett ten thousand dollars. And I hate it.Not to shame anyone, but when you insist on parading around hotel rooms in nothing but tight boxer briefs and the sluttiest, most distracting socks known to man…this is the exact shit that happens.It wasn’t just the socks though, yeah, they were a problem. White knit. Snug. Two perfect blue lines circling the cuff like they were made to draw your eyes upward. The way they hugged his calves, an inch below the curve of muscle. Shadows dipping and disappearing as he moved. Shadows that tempted, tormented, branded my mind. Shadows that spelled my name across every wall, every corner, every inch of this room.Now he’s on his knees, cheerful, wiping long streaks of me off the floor with balled-up toilet paper. And I’m collapsed in the armchair, utterly spent, legs splayed, twice failing miserably to sit upright.“I take cash or check,” he says, almost teasing. “PayPal, Venmo, Zelle…honestly, any cash app