The Arena Laughed at My Milk, So Four Hockey Men Kept Me novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: The Kid

I took Anders by the hand and led him across the cold basement floor to the shower stall behind the furnace.

It was a plain tiled box with a wooden bench along one wall and a steel grab bar bolted above it.

The guys used it to rinse off the smell of their gear before they went up to the house.

I turned the tap all the way to hot, and steam rolled out in a slow cloud.

"My feet are still half frozen," I said. "Take your shirt off."

He pulled the Rosetown Redhawks T-shirt over his head with both hands.

He was twenty-four, and he was built like a man who had thrown hay bales since he was eight.

His shoulders were wide and freckled, and his stomach was flat and ridged.

A line of pale hair ran down from his navel into his boxers.

The boxers tented, and he put his hand over it and went scarlet to the collarbones.

"Don't hide it," I said. "Move your hand."

He moved it.

"Now those."

He shoved the boxers down and stepped out of them.

He was long and straight and very hard, flushed dark at the tip.

He stood in the steam with his arms at his sides and let me look.

"You're beautiful," I said.

"I'm not."

"I'll decide. Get in."

I dropped Abram's jacket on the floor, and my underwear, and stepped in after him.

The water was scalding, and my feet burned and then sang as the blood came back.

It beat on my shoulders and ran down between my breasts.

The milk let down in it at once and ran away white down the drain.

Anders stared at it.

"Sit on the bench," I said.

He sat.

On the shelf beside the soap there was a roll of white hockey tape.

There is always a roll of white hockey tape in a hockey house.

I picked it up, and I looked at him.

"Give me your wrists."

His eyes went wide, and then dark.

He held both hands out in front of him, crossed at the wrist, without a word.

I wound the tape around them, three firm turns, and lifted his arms over his head and taped them to the grab bar behind him.

He tested it.

The bar held, and he let out a long shaky breath, and his cock jerked against his stomach.

"Is that too tight?" I said.

"No, ma'am," he said.

"It's Katja," I said.

"No, Katja. It's perfect. It's"

I knelt on the wet tile between his knees and took him in my mouth.

He shouted.

The sound hit the walls and came back, and his whole body arched off the bench.

I took him deep, past the point where I could breathe, and slid back up with my tongue flat along the underside.

He tasted clean and salty, with the steam and the heat of him.

I hollowed my cheeks and sucked, and he made a high desperate noise and pulled at the tape.

"Katja, Katja, I'm going to"

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