Chapter 41: Hidden Scars: Chapter 40

vans pull up outside the hotel in Providence, Rhode Island, dropping us off from the airport for our first games of the new year.

Coach gets us checked in and hands out room assignments, Preston is with another defense player, and he does not look happy about it, while I’m with Paul.

We get our room keys and head to the elevators. Preston is wearing the quilt my grandma gave him, all folded up around his neck and refusing to answer Brendon’s questions about it. He’s asked about ten times since we left Denver.

The quilt lives on his bed, keeping us warm at night and bringing him a sense of peace I’ve never seen on him before. I often come back after classes to see him sitting on his bed with it wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. I’m also pretty sure I’ve heard him talking to my grandma on the phone a few times. Hopefully it’s true. He needs people that care about him.

I snap a picture of him with it over his shoulders and send it to Mom.

I snort at her response. Preston is a lot of things, but most people wouldn’t associate him with sweetness.

We drop our shit in the hotel rooms and I text Preston.

I snort at his response. Paul lifts an eyebrow at me but doesn’t say anything.

There’s a loud knock on our hotel room. With a smile on my face, I get off the bed and move to open it.

Paul bitches from his bed, “You guys are disgusting together.”

Preston grabs the back of my neck to kiss me, not pulling away until I’m hard and breathless.

“Seriously, get a room,” Brendon scoffs as he pushes past us to lie on Paul’s bed and puts his head on Paul’s thigh like a pillow.

“Get out and we’ll have one,” Preston snaps back without any heat. It’s just how he is. My grumpy man.

“I’m fucking hungry. Feed me.” Paul runs his hand through Brendon’s hair and looks at us unamused.

“I think there’s a bar down the street that serves decent food,” Brendon comments, scrolling through his phone. “Looks like a bunch of guys are going there.”

“Decent food at a bar? I doubt it.” Preston crosses his arms and shakes his head at Brendon. “I guarantee everything is deep-fried.”

“And a mechanical bull! Fuck yeah!” Brendon hops off the bed and Paul follows like a lost puppy. Poor guy has it bad for Brendon but I don’t think Brendon even realizes it.

Preston sighs and we follow them out of the room. In the hallway, we’re careful to keep some distance between us, the team doesn’t know we’re together and we’re not in a hurry to out ourselves. I don’t think it would be much of a surprise if they found out either of us are gay but it’s drama we don’t need right now.

In the elevator, Carpenter and Willis join us and we all head down to the lobby. More guys from the team are there standing around when the elevator doors open and, as a group, we trudge a block to the bar, freezing our asses off. The bar is designed to look like a small town country bar with raw wood walls, rodeo paraphernalia, and George Strait playing on the jukebox. One side of the bar is a roped off area with a mechanical bull surrounded by crash mats. All the tables are bar height with stools around them.

The team easily takes up a quarter of the tables. Preston, Paul, Brendon, and I squeezed around one table. The damn things are tiny and we all look ridiculous crammed around it.

A waitress with a high, blonde ponytail and big boobs passes out menus and takes our drink orders. We all know we have a one-drink max because we have a game tomorrow. Everyone at my table orders a beer except Preston, who orders his usual: water.

He meets all of our eyes in turn, disgruntled at being oogled.

“Beer makes you fat and slow,” we all say in unison.

“It’s true,” he grumbles while raising the menu and lifting a lip at the limited options.

I pick up mine and peruse it as well. If I eat a chicken burger, Preston will bitch less, but bacon cheeseburgers are delicious…

With a huff, he puts the laminated plastic sheet on the table with more force than necessary and I snort at him.

“So, let me guess,” I say without looking at him. “Grilled chicken burger with no bun annnnnnd…” There is really no other option that he’ll eat. “Two chicken burgers with no buns.”

He side-eyes me and I know I’ve got it right. Score one for Jeremy.

The woman comes back to take our orders and Preston orders his sad chicken breasts. The rest of us order bacon cheeseburgers.

When she walks away, we turn to look at him, waiting for his speech about nutrition.

“Nope, I’m not saying anything. You all knew what I was going to say and still made bad choices. Fat and slow it is.”

We laugh and start talking about the game tomorrow, discussing who’s who on the team we’re playing, what we need to watch out for, and who the weak links are.

‘Alright, folks! Who’s going to be first up to ride my bull?’ A DJ calls over the speaker system. My gaze cuts through the hazy bar lights to lock onto Preston’s on the other side of the table. He’s got his glass almost to his lips then freezes, his eyebrow raised, the heat in his stare almost enough to make me combust. I stand from my stool, lifting my hand in the air.

“Yeah, right here.” I call to the DJ. Preston glares at me, a look that clearly says “Our next victim!” he cheers and the room gets loud with excitement.

“You’re an idiot,” Preston says loud enough for the tables around us to hear. “If you get hurt, Coach will kill you.”

Moving toward Preston, I lean over his shoulder so my lips are next to his ear. He barely flinches at me invading his space, but doesn’t move away.

“You gonna join me?” My tone is sultry as my breath tickles his skin.

“Why would I do that?”

“Hmm, because it’s fun?”

The guys at the next table are watching us so I move back a bit.

“Having my dick shoved against your ass is fun?” he says loud enough for them to hear.

I smirk. “I have a nice ass.” I smack my own ass.

“You and me, cowboy!” Brendon stands up, smiling at Preston, knowing exactly how to push my man’s buttons. Preston’s body tenses as Brendon walks up behind me and pats me on the ass. “Giddy up!”

If looks could kill, Brendon would be on the floor bleeding out, but he shakes his head. Brendon and I head to the mechanical bull and I lift up first. I step up on the peg and swing my leg over then wrap my hand around the handle on top. Brendon uses my shoulder and the peg to hoist himself up and swing his leg over.

“You remember how to do this?” I ask over my shoulder. Brendon and I used to go to an under twenty-one club in Muskegon and ride the mechanical bull there. It was a hell of a lot of fun and we got pretty damn good at it.

“Like riding a bike.” His hips are pressed against my ass and his hand is next to mine on the handle.

“Alright, you boys ready?” The DJ asks and we nod. “Oh, hold on, we’ve got another rider?”

We turn and see Preston has climbed over the ropes and is stalking towards us. I hide my grin by looking away but Brendon obviously feels the need to fuck with him.

“Hey there, big boy, you gonna ride my ass up here?”

“Off. Now,” he demands. Brendon snorts out a laugh and slides off on the opposite side of where Preston is standing.

Preston puts his hand on my thigh, using me to pull himself up and onto the bull, dropping down behind me.

“You ever ridden before?” I ask him.

“No, but I’m a trained athlete, it can’t be that hard.”

A knowing smile lifts my lips. This is gonna be fun.

“It’s all in the thighs.” I grip the strong muscles bracketing my own. “Follow the rhythm, don’t fight it.”

I signal the DJ and the bull starts moving, slowly at first, then picking up a bit of speed. Preston is stiff as a board behind me, fighting the movement of the bull instead of using it. My body rolls automatically, following the rhythm, and enjoying the ride, but even with him damn near glued to me, he’s not moving.

Reaching for the rope hanging above us, I use the footholds, to lift and twist my body until I’m facing him, my legs dropping on top of his.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he grits out.

“Relax. Move with the bull.” I grab the waistband of his jeans and pull him against me. My body rolls sensually against him and he groans, gripping my hips with bruising force. He’s starting to move but it’s not enough, so I grip one of his wrists and lift his arm around my shoulders. His fingers dig into my neck, his forehead almost pressing against mine, our breath mingling between us. My heart pounds in my ears as my world zooms in on this moment. I want to kiss him. Desperately. To feel him move against me, under me. My eyes drop to his mouth and I drag my teeth over my bottom lip. He’s breathing hard, glaring at me with the most aggressive, hate-filled lust I’ve ever seen.

My body moves with the bull. I’ve done this too many times, muscle memory takes over. I’m in his space, he follows me into mine, over and over, suspended in this moment where nothing exists but us. There’s no team members, no bar, no crowd.

Placing my palm on his chest. I push him back until he’s leaning all the way back, his hands coming up to grip onto the edge of the bull for something to hold on to. His eyes don’t leave mine as I lift up and grind against him to the rhythm of the fake beast below us.

He’s hard.

Preston is hard, in public, for me.

I can’t stop myself from rubbing my ass over the ridge in his jeans, just once. More to torture myself than him. He moans but I can’t hear it, not over my pulse and the white noise buzzing in my head.

I’m hard too. Painfully fucking hard. I want to cum more than I want my next fucking breath but I can’t. While the lust is clear in Preston’s face, there’s something else there too. Fear, maybe? What is he afraid of? Me?

I drop my ass back to the machine and grab a fist full of his shirt, pulling him up against me again.

‘I hate you,’ he forces out while his fingers bruise my hips once again.

The bull comes to a stop, the world around us starts clicking back in place and he shoves me, hard. I fall off the bull, landing on my back on the mats while he climbs off and disappears into the crowd.

What the fuck just happened?

I’m blinking up at the ceiling when it hits me.

Fuck.

The room is silent when I stand up and dust myself off, face red with guilt and embarrassment. I’m such a fucking idiot. Scanning the room, I don’t see Preston.

Fuck. Me.

I race from the bar and hope to catch up with him so we can talk privately, but the streets are full of people and I didn’t grab my jacket on the way out. Did he?

I run to the hotel and barely catch a glance of his face through the closing elevator doors. Damn it! If someone recorded that and uploaded it, it’ll be all over the hockey blogs by morning. This is the last thing we need right now.

Hitting the elevator call button about twenty times, the doors finally open. I hit my floor number and rock back and forth on the balls of my feet as the number climbs. After the longest elevator ride of my life, it opens on my floor to a pissed off Preston standing in the hallway.

“I’m so sorry!” I reach for him but he brushes me off. Okay, he’s pissed and not ready for comfort. Got it.

“Do you have any idea what you just risked?” His jaw is set but the anger is fading to something else. Fear.

He’s afraid his father is going to find out and make him come back for correction. That has to be it. His lip trembles as a different kind of tension takes over his body.

We aren’t having this conversation in the damn hallway. Grabbing his hand, I pull him to my room, dig my key out of my back pocket, and get the door open.

Once we’re inside, I turn on him and push him against the door, crowding into his space.

“I’m sorry, I got caught up in the moment and didn’t think.”

“If my father finds out about this public display, I will be taught a lesson.” His voice is full of angst and pain. The shear terror on his face breaks my heart.

“I can’t let him take you again.”

His dark, stormy gray eyes harden when they meet mine. “You can’t stop him. I can take it, Lily can’t.”

I lean my forehead against his, despite wanting to rampage. It’s not fair. How am I supposed to watch the man I love walk toward danger and do nothing to stop it?

“He can’t keep doing this,” I finally manage.

“He can until Lily turns eighteen.” Preston is resigned to his fate. He doesn’t fight it, just accepts it and moves on. What’s the point of fighting a battle you know you’ll lose?

There’s noise in the hallway a few seconds before the beep of the lock on the door sounds. Preston and I move far enough away from it that Paul can enter without hitting us. He and Brendon stop in the doorway when they see us.

“Sorry, figured you’d be in the other room.” Paul lifts our jackets that I had forgotten about, not realizing Preston was also in a fucking t-shirt.

“Thanks,” I mutter to him, taking my coat. Preston takes his and folds it over his arm.

“We should get to bed,” Preston tells the three of us.

Brendon holds up a to-go bag. “We brought dinner back.”

We all shuffle further into the room and Brendon digs into the bag, handing out Styrofoam boxes.

“Thank you.” Preston opens his box. His grilled chicken looks depressing and lonely.

“Seriously, just take some fries or something.” I open my food and offer him some of it. “Put those poor chicken titties out of their misery.”

His lip curls in disgust and shakes his head. “I ate enough carbs over Christmas to last a lifetime.”

The rest of us chuckle and I shove a fry in my mouth.

Surprising all of us, Preston picks up a chicken breast and bites into it.

“Whoa, there. Chill out and find a fork like a civilized human,” Paul rags on him and Preston flips him off.

“Did anyone on the team say anything?” he asks after a few minutes of us eating quietly.

“Not really,” Brendon shrugs. “A couple guys were confused because you’re an asshole on the ice.” He looks pointedly at Preston and I snort. “A few guys thought it was a joke.” Brendon shrugs again. “Most didn’t seem to have a reaction.”

“See anyone recording it?” I ask with a mouth full of bacon cheeseburger deliciousness.

“No, but I wasn’t looking for it either.” Brendon smirks at me. “I was watching the erotic show.”

Preston smacks the back of Brendon’s head and I laugh. He knew it was coming and braced for it.

“Idiot,” Paul mutters under his breath.

We finish eating, with Paul smacking Brendon in the face with a long fry so Brendon throws a fry at Paul.

“Children. Knock it off,” Preston growls and puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. “We need to go to sleep anyway, no staying up late.” He pins me and Paul with a serious look and I chuckle.

“I’m tired, anyway. Hurry up and get out so I can go to bed.” I poke him in the ribs and he growls at me, pressing a quick kiss to my upturned lips before grabbing the trash and dumping it in the can.

“Oiler, out.” Preston opens the door and waits for Brendon, who gives me and Paul a salute before they both leave.

Paul and I get ready for bed and lay down. He turns the TV on to some boring bullshit to fall asleep but I struggle.

I keep tossing and turning, rolling over and huffing.

“I swear to God, I will risk being murdered by Preston and cuddle your ass just to get you to stop,” Paul snaps, sitting up and staring at me with exasperation.

I flip him off and roll over again.

“It’s one am. I’m going to kill you.”

Sitting up, I’m about to snap back at him when there’s a pounding on our door. We both turn to look at it, then jump up and race over, ripping it open.

One of our defensive guys, Mathews, is standing in the hallway, pale, in only his boxers. “I can’t get him to stop,” he tells me, and that’s all I need.

“Let’s go,” I push him back down the hallway and I can hear Preston screaming. My blood runs cold at the pain-filled wail, making me move faster. Mathews gets the door open and I race forward, sliding into bed with Preston and pulling him against me. By the angle he’s laying at, he had to have put his back against the headboard to sleep.

He fights me in his sleep, pushing and slapping at me while a sob escapes him, tears staining his pillow and running into his short-cropped hair.

“Preston,” I manage to wrap my legs around him and roll us so I’m on top of him with my chest pressed against his. “Wake up, come on.”

I kiss his face, rubbing the soft hair of my face against his skin, and knock his hands back when he tries to pull me away. His body rocks against mine, bowing under me, but I hold on tight. These fucking nightmares are going to be the death of him. They’re exhausting and traumatizing. Mathews will never forget this, and all I can hope is he won’t say shit to anyone tomorrow.

Preston’s shirt rides up during his struggle with the demons trapping him in his head. My body rubs against him, skin to skin, and the fight finally leaves. Both of us are panting when his eyes open, confused by my being on top of him.

His body is weak from the exertion, laying flat on the mattress while he reorients himself, “There you are.” I kiss his neck again, his forehead, his cheek. Relaxing on top of him and allowing him to accept the weight of my body against him. After these episodes, he likes the pressure of my body pushing him into the bed. He tells me it helps ground him.

“Is-is it over?” Mathews asks behind me.

Preston’s body tenses, his hands coming to my waist and his eyes popping open.

“Yeah, you can go back to sleep now or go sleep in my room. I guarantee Paul won’t care.” I tell him, not lifting my head from my boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Is he okay?”

“I’m fine.” Preston’s voice rumbles against my chest. Mathews lets out a breath of relief.

“I’ll-um-sleep in your room,” he mumbles, grabbing something and opening the door. “Oh, hey, Johnson.”

“All good, Paul. Mathews is going to take my bed tonight.” I tell him without looking. Paul knows Preston has nightmares and maybe he’s heard a few of the bad ones, but he never asks about them. Much like me, he just makes sure everyone is okay and leaves it alone.

“Got it,” my friend says and closes the door.

Preston relaxes again, his hands sliding down my body to my hips and grinding against me.

“I need you,” he pants, biting at my ear lobe. My dick hardens at the lust in his voice, his cock already throbbing and rubbing against me.

“Lube?” I sit up and grind my ass on his cock, wanting to feel him stretching me, using me.

“In my bag.” He palms my dick through my pajama pants, forcing a groan from my throat. “Go get it so you can ride me.”

I swing my leg over and find his bag at the end of the bed. It doesn’t take long for me to find the small bottle he keeps in his travel stuff and strip off my clothes. He watches me, pushing his own pants off and lifting his shirt to show part of his abdomen.

It’s sexy as fuck to know that I’m the only one who gets to see him like this. Even with the scars that cover his body on display, his cock is full and his eyes are full of lust, he’s not deterred by being naked in front of me.

My dick jumps when he strokes himself while he bites his lower lip.

“Come here, baby.” His voice is pure sex.

Climbing over him again, the hair on his thighs tickles my ass cheeks. I roll my hips and he takes both of our cocks in his hand, the extra skin from both of us being uncut giving us plenty of give to thrust together.

Preston sits up, reaching for the lube, and slathers his fingers in it before sliding his fingers between my cheeks to press against my hole. I grab ahold of his head to ravage his mouth as his fingers thrust inside of me.

I whimper into his kiss, needing so much more than fingers. Pushing him back on the bed, I drip lube onto his cock and lift up to align myself over it.

“Take it, all the way down.” He watches his cock disappear inside of my ass as I sink down on him. I drop my head back on a groan when my ass sits against him, fully seated on his dick. It burns a little with the stretch, but I love it. “Fuck me.” Preston wraps a hand around my dick and I rotate my hips in a circle, feeling him everywhere.

I arch my back and grind his dick deep in my ass, my eyes shutting. I love the electric bursts behind my eyelids. My body is full and greedy for him.

Preston runs his hand up my body and finds my nipple, pinching it hard enough to force a gasp from me. My cock throbs at the pain, but my hips move. Leaning forward, I brace myself on his chest and lift up to slam back onto him. He groans this time and the sound spurs me on. Over and over I take him in hard, deep, punishing movements until he can’t take it anymore and he rolls us. Preston takes control, shoving my thighs wide and holding them against the mattress so he can pound into me mercilessly. My body being open and exposed to him is terrifying in the best way. I know he won’t let me go or hurt me more than I want. It’s freeing.

I’m moaning like a whore, back arched and needy to come with my hand around my dick.

“I love you,” I grit out, craving the words from him when he’s like this. Hurting and seeking comfort in me.

Preston releases my legs, one hand gripping my throat as he leans down to get his face into mine.

“I fucking love you,” he snarls, slapping my cheek with the other hand. The slap is a hot sting on my face, and makes my dick leak.

Fuck.

“Come for me,” he demands. “Show me how much you love being fucked.”

Tingles shoot up my spine and into my balls. I pant as mind-bending pleasure rolls my eyes into the back of my head and cum spurts out onto my chest while the love of my life uses my hole.

Preston’s breath fans over my heated, sticky skin. He flicks his tongue out to lick at the cum on my chest and growls as his rhythm jackknifes, filling my ass with his seed then collapsing on top of me.