Page 22 of Temptation On Ice

I roughly crank the shower on and avoid my reflection in the mirror so I don't have to face the look of utter disappointment I have in myself. Nameless hookups and emotionless flings with forgettable puck bunnies to get my physical needs met when I’m at my lowest have only led to more self-loathing and insecurities.

Will anyone love me like Eliana did? Will I love anyone as much as her? How will I replace her? Am I terrible for even considering that?

Shouldn't the love of my life, the woman I was with for five years, and the mother of my child, be irreplaceable?

I step into the shower and let the hot water pelt my sore body. Coach Kennedy has been running us ragged on the ice, and Scotty’s ensured that dry land training has been just as rough. The team will be more than ready for our first game next week, and our conditioning will no doubt be perfect. The power our team has on the ice is already so much better than last season.

I grab my shampoo and quickly wash my hair, rinsing the suds out and watching them circle the drain, wishing I could wash my guilt away as easily. I lather up the new body wash I got from the line Tucker told me about. The scent fills my nose with notes of sandalwood, reminding me of the way his beard felt under my palm. It was so soft, the golden-brown was the perfect shade against his lightly tanned skin. He has a scattering of light freckles across the bridge of his nose that get lost in the color of his cheeks, giving him a youthful appearance. Having spent a decade or more in the police force, he has to be older than me, but he still looks so young.

My cock starts to stir as I recall the way he looked at me while I was shirtless at the photo shoot, like there was something more than a friendly interest there. He’s given so much of his time to me already, just listening and not judging me when I shared some of my failings as a father and the guilt I struggle with. He allowed me to feel normal, seen, and supported. The fucker has the strongest arms I’ve ever been hugged by, and to be held when I felt like breaking created a bond I wasn't expecting.

Whiffs of sandalwood rise on the steam from the hot water and fill the shower enclosure until all I smell is Tucker. I groan as my cock grows hard, demanding I abuse it or suffer the consequences. Without thinking, I palm my cock and begin stroking it, the body wash making my skin slick. When was the last time I jacked off? I don't even remember, but I haven't wanted to, and nothing has aroused me for months. I was starting to think I was broken, but right now, you’d never know it with the rigidity that has my dick straining toward my abs and the insistent need to stroke. I give in, leaning one hand against the tile wall and letting the hot water hit the sensitive head of my cock as I fuck my fist, trying to recall the last curvy body that got me to this place so I can come.

My hand on Tucker’s face is what surfaces, the tactile memory branding my consciousness until all I feel is his soft beard under my palm, imagining what it would feel like against my most sensitive skin. His soft lips contrasting with the short beard, teasing my balls, the warm heat of him as he takes me into his mouth and licks along my shaft. His strong hands gripping my ass and pulling me in deeper. The mixed sensations of him sucking my balls into his mouth and jacking me off in his calloused palm.

“Oh, fuck,” I groan as cum erupts from my cock, hitting the shower wall in violent spurts. My knees shake while I ride my fist through the last powerful spasms that leave me spent and my mind blissfully quiet. Balls empty, mind empty, body empty of the usual weight that holds me down.

The relief that washes over me is monumental. I was able to expel my guilt along with the load of cum that is now sliding down the wall. For the first time in years, I don't feel like such a failure, and maybe I can get the hang of balancing this life if I work at it.

My chest is heaving as I slowly come down from the euphoric high of release and the lightness that feels so fucking good after dealing with the weight of the world. My consciousness is the last to resurface, and I realize with a start that I just got off to thoughts of Tucker. I envisioned a man I’ve met a few times on his knees, sucking and jacking me off. I just used images of him like a cheap whore to come like a freight train down the drain. Who am I, and what have I done with the rational man I’m supposed to be? That’s too fucking weird, and I don't even know what to make of it.

Am I gay now?

From speaking with Knox and partnering with Outlanta, I know enough about sexuality to realize it’s a spectrum. It’s not all straight or gay, or even identifying as bisexual, like Ryder. I’ve never even considered myself anything other than straight—just a man who finds women attractive. But what I just did lets me know that I at least find one man attractive enough to jack off to, and that’s making me question everything.

Does this body wash have pheromones in it or something? I look over at the bottle and squint to read the ingredients and small text on the back. There’s nothing about making you jerk off to the idea of your new guy friend, so this must be a weird guilt-trip fever dream-type thing. I guess sandalwood is just one of those aphrodisiacs for me, and I’ll have to be careful about using this product, or I’ll be forever getting my brain signals crossed, connecting it to Tucker, where I smelled it first, and thinking of him sexually.

I finish my shower, knowing I need to get my head right before seeing my mom and dad, or they’ll know something’s up, and I don't need to be all jittery and weird about stroking it to a dude. Fuck, I actually did that, and it felt really damn good.

I get Enzo ready while trying to forget my slide into filthy shower fantasies, and we head to Ma and Pop’s.

Ma greets us at the door when we arrive and loudly fusses over Enzo.

“Oh, my little baby, I’ve missed you! Did you miss Nonnie and Papa?” she asks, scooping him up and kissing his cheeks as she rocks back and forth.

“Yeah, Nonnie,” Enzo answers, smiling and excited to see his grandmother.

He loves her theatrics. They make him feel loved and important, and I’ve been such a dick to keep him away from them with my own need for distance. Guilt washes over me.

“What have you been up to? Anything fun?” she asks.

“I saw lots of dogs when we went to Mr. Tucker’s farm, and he made us dinner while I played with Lux. She’s a German Shepherd. I also played with a big gray dog called Tonka. He was so nice and let me lie on him. I had so much fun. I want Dad to take me again, but he’s been too busy.”

Her sharp eyes catch mine. “Where are you taking my grandbaby these days?” she asks with maternal suspicion.

I sigh. “Nowhere bad, Ma. Just to a dog training facility with lots of dogs for Enzo to play with. The owner is partnering with the Hydras this season and invited us over when he saw how much Enzo loves dogs at a recent family day. It was nice.”

“That doesn't sound safe, Sebastian. Dogs can hurt kids. You never know how they will react to little hands in their faces or pulling on their tails. You shouldn't take Enzo there anymore,” she chastises as I hold the door open for her to carry Enzo inside. He’s too big for her to be holding like that, but she insists on babying him whenever she gets the chance.

Her statements about Tucker’s facility and dogs rub me the wrong way. It makes me want to scream how amazing Tucker has been to both me and Enzo, and what a great guy he is, but that seems like an overreaction. I have to temper my emotions and not fly off the handle at her. I know she means well, even if she’s overbearing and controlling. I take a steadying breath before I can respond even the least bit rationally.

“It was totally safe. Tucker’s an incredible trainer, and his dogs are very well-behaved. They’re trained to be service dogs, so they’re better than most pets. They’re meant to be calm and work well with all kinds of people, so they’re very gentle with Enzo.”

“I don't like it. That doesn't sound like a place for children. It’s one thing for adults to go there, but you shouldn't bring a four-year-old boy. He could get hurt, no matter how well-trained these dogs are.” She sets Enzo down in the kitchen and turns to me while he runs off to find his toys.

I watch him go before I turn back to Ma and use a calm voice to speak to her. “I wish you’d trust me to do what’s best for my son. I have enough on my plate without you constantly questioning my every move.”

She huffs and opens her mouth like she’s going to argue, but I rush on so she doesn’t have a chance.