Henry Buchanan is the new owner of the Lions hockey team. Apparently, the guy likes to dabble in a little bit of everything. Either that, or his attention span is as bad as Theo’s. He started out as the prince of the massive software company his father created before he decided to use his knowledge and teach students at LAU. Now, he’s spending his inheritance on forming a new hockey team.
The guy’s well-rounded. I’ll give him that much.
Theo’s chest rumbles with amusement as he laces our fingers together and drags me to the bed. I follow him, reaching for the hoodie on the gray comforter, but he slaps my hand away.
With a gasp, I clutch my hand to my bare chest. “Excuse me!”
“Calm your perfect tits. I bought you something for today. Wait here.”
He grabs a large square box from the top shelf in the closet and orders, “Sit.”
It’s bigger than any kind of jewelry box, but it isn’t an average clothing box, either. My eyes narrow in suspicion as my butt hits the mattress.
Satisfied, he sets the box on my lap. “Open.”
“Someone’s bossy,” I note, lifting the lid off. I set it on top of my discarded sleep shirt and the hoodie I’d planned to wear today. Gold and red tissue paper covers whatever’s inside, so I add it to my stack of abandoned items. When Theo’s gift comes into view, I gasp and cover my mouth.
It’s a white and gold jersey, identical to the players’. But instead of a lion emblem on the front, a proud lioness is stitched into the fabric along with Theo’s jersey number. She looks fierce and proud, her mouth open wide in a snarl. The colors are bold and vibrant against the white background and makes the fearless animal practically pop off the polyester. Carefully, I brush my fingers over the custom jersey, unsure what to say.
The mattress dips as Theo sits beside me and murmurs, “Do you like it?”
“Where did you get this?” I whisper. There isn’t any lioness merchandise. Trust me. I’ve looked. But this? It's perfect.
“I knew I probably couldn’t convince a bunch of grown-ass men to wear lionesses on their jerseys, so I didn’t bother to petition Buchanan. But I figure you deserve to be recognized.”
Tearing my gaze from the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received, I look at Theo and bite my lip. “Theo…”
“You’re right. Lionesses don’t get enough credit, Blake. Lions wouldn’t be the kings of the jungle if it weren’t for their badass women by their side. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn't for you. Your support, your love and example, they’ve meant more to me than anything else in the world. And I can guarantee none of the lions on the ice tonight would be there if it wasn’t for their badass lionesses who have their backs, either. So, thank you. For being you.” He kisses my temple, and I lean into the simple show of affection, soaking it up until I feel like I’m glowing.
How did I get so damn lucky?
“Ya know, I guess lions aren’t too bad,” I murmur.
He pulls away and cocks his head. “You think?”
“Yeah. Especially when they take care of their lionesses.”
“We take care of each other, Blake. Always.” He kisses me again but snakes his hand around my shoulder, copping a feel of my bare boob one more time and squeezing it like a squeaky toy. “Now, get dressed. I have a press conference to get to.”
He lets my breast go, but I grab his wrist, twist on the mattress, and straddle his waist with my thighs.
With a surprised grin, he grabs my upper thighs and asks, “What are you doing?”
“Oh, nothing.” The proud lioness is on full display across my chest as I slip it over my head and move down a few inches, pulling his hardening erection from his basketball shorts.
“Blake,” he warns, but he lifts his hips and helps me scoot them down. “We gotta get ready.”
His cock jerks in my palm, and I rub my thumb over the head. “You really think you could get away with giving me the most thoughtful gift on the planet and not give me an orgasm as a cherry on top?”
He chuckles and grabs my hips, his fingers flexing beneath my new jersey. “Two minutes, Baby Thorne. You take any longer, and I might have to spank you.”
Pushing my underwear to the side, I line us up and mutter, “Tease,” as I slowly lower myself onto him. His groan mingles with my own as he stretches me. I feel so full. So loved. So cherished. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I ride him. And when we’re both close to the edge, I bite his earlobe and whisper, “Olive juice.”
And I know without a doubt, those two words will only ever feel right when I’m with him.
I guess it’s a good thing I’m never letting him go.
The End
