No Pucks (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #1)

2. Logan

TWO

LOGAN

“ H e’s mine,” I tell them the second I lay eyes on him. I have to have him, and I need to make it clear he’s off limits.

“You can’t claim everyone,” James grumbles, looking around to see who I mean.

“You didn’t even notice him,” Evander says, pursing his lips. I’ve known James forever, and I’m still not quite sure I understand their dynamic.

“So? Now I see him,” James flings back, more to Evander than to me. He only does stuff like that to annoy my brother.

“Have anyone else you like. Evander can help you pick one.” I’m not in the mood for his usual verbal sparring.

“You really want some guy who’s probably over forty when this bar is full of college guys home for the summer?” James asks, as if he’s any better.

“And?”

“And why do you like guys that age?” James sees the pattern, but I’ve never hidden it.

“Bet he gives head like my cum is water and he just escaped a desert of a marriage.”

James makes a face. “I don’t want to hear about your cum and how it is or isn’t watery.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take a video for you so you don’t have to wonder.” I fix my cuffs and take a step towards the bar.

“Let’s make him a game.” James fights just to fight. I can’t tell if it’s his way of flirting, or if he’s attention starved. My brother can figure it out. I have a man to seduce.

“No.” I meet James’ eyes, waiting for a rebuttal.

“Let him be.” Evander puts his hand on James’ arm, pulling him away to find a table.

“Neither of you is any fun,” James says to my back.

I don’t bother with a reply or a backward glance.

Mr. Recently Divorced stands at the bar trying to flag down a bartender.

I hold out my black card as I sidle up beside him, and that gets his attention. I nod to him. “What are you drinking?”

His gaze drags down my throat to the open buttons of my dress shirt. “Why?”

“You look like you could use a drink and…” A good fuck , I finish in my head, but I won’t say it. He seems a little skittish, and I don’t want to scare him off.

“How’d you know?” he asks before giving the bartender his order.

I hold up two fingers and hand over my card before turning. “It’s written all over you.”

“One drink,” he says, an edge to his voice. He already knows what I want.

That ’ s what they all say.

“Do you have some place to be?” I ask, picking up the glass as soon as it’s set in front of me.

“A hotel bed is calling my name.” He thumbs his fourth finger like a bad habit, which means the ring hasn’t been off long. He catches where my eyes went and stops, grabbing his own drink.

“Alone?” I ask, unable to stop myself.

He meets my gaze with his pretty blues but doesn’t answer, taking a drink instead.

That’s right, handsome. Drink up. I’m made entirely of bad decisions.

“What brought you to the city?” I ask, knowing he might be hard to get out of the bar. I love older men just realizing they’re bisexual. Giving them their first gay experience is a little game of mine, and there’s no better place to reel them in.

He gives me another once over, weighing my question. “An interview.” His words are clipped and short—he doesn’t want to be known.

Fair enough.

“How did it go?” From his exhausted appearance, I’d assume not well.

“I have the job if I want it.” He wears a scowl so well, if he told me he has never smiled in his life, I’d believe him.

“Then why do you look like it’s killing you?” I ask, more drawn in by him than I expected.

“Because now, I have to decide if I’m willing to move back here .” His words are loaded, just like I like them.

Selfishly, I want to know. “Got a problem with New York?”

“It’s not Florida.” He taps the bar top, drawing my attention back to his hands. The tattoos are a lot more delicate than I expected, fine lines woven behind a geometric pattern radiating from an outline of the Creation of Adam on the back of one hand, the other bearing an outline of Winged Victory.

I’m surprised. He doesn’t seem the type at all, but it only makes me want him more.

I wrinkle my nose. “Oh, honey.”

He laughs, and the tension in his shoulders eases a little. “Let me guess: born and raised?”

I don’t deny it. “You can always vacation there and live longer.”

“Isn’t NYC one of the most dangerous cities in the world?” he asks.

“But we don’t have Florida Man.” I grin, earning a roll of his eyes.

“Hilarious.” He sets his glass down and looks at me, but not with lust. He’s probing. Intense. What he’s looking for, I have no idea. “I grew up here then moved away when I was fifteen. I couldn’t wait to get back, and I did for a few years, and I regret it. I swore I’d never come back.”

“I apologize,” I pause, letting him think I’m being kind. “So what you’re telling me is, they took you to Florida during your formative years and brainwashed you?”

He seems amused as he shakes his head, but the amusement reaches the lines around his eyes. “Or maybe I hate this city and everything it represents.”

“There’s the trauma. Let’s see—parents are divorced and you went back to mom’s redneck roots?”

He side-eyes me, clearly shocked. “Dad, and not so redneck. How’d you know?”

“I’m good at reading people.” I’ve played the hook-up game long enough.

His dark brow furrows. “How? You can’t be a panhandler. Your watch is too expensive for that. So, what—rich parents, used to traveling the world and reading all their rich friends?”

“Something like that.” More like fucking all their friends, but I don’t think that admission would go over so well with him. “Not so bad at reading people yourself.”

“I know the type. Like I said, I used to live here.” Which means part of his family has or had money.

Interesting.

“So you learned a little twenty years ago.” I laugh with the little jab.

“Hey now, less than. I’m not that old.” He shoots me another glare. “Might I remind you, you’re the one who came over here?”

“What’s twenty years between friends?” I finish my drink and set it aside, turning towards him, leaning my elbow on the bar.

“How old are you?” he asks.

“Old enough to be in a bar and know what I want.” I flick my tongue over my lower lip.

He swallows. “I’m old enough to be your?—”

I cut him off, dropping my attention to his dick. “My what? Father? Not even close. He’s nearly fifty, and I doubt he can get it up without help. You seem to be doing just fine.” A slight misrepresentation of the facts, but I don’t care.

He follows my gaze and lifts his hand, but he stops himself from adjusting, slipping it into his pocket instead. “This isn’t even close to hard.” His voice drops while his gaze darkens.

Heat scorches through my veins, and I lean in. “Prove it.”

“I—” His finger goes back to his ring finger.

“Married?” I put my lips next to his ear.

“Not anymore.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” I brush my nose through his five o’clock shadow as I pull back.

His entire body reacts to me. “You’re?—”

“Young? And? We are both adults, and I approached you.”

His breathing hitches. “You’re half my age. What could you possibly want with me?”

“I’ve had a really bad night, and I’m sure you’ll turn that around.”

The bartender sets the receipt in front of me, and I give him a generous tip for his speed.

“Sure you don’t want another drink?” he asks.

“You said only one drink…”

“I didn’t mean you had to…” He shakes his head.

“We can have another drink—elsewhere.”

He almost smiles but stops himself. It makes him more attractive, and I find I want to actually make him smile. “You are?—”

“What?” I press.

“Something else.”

“A good something, I hope.”

“Very good. Hard to say no to.”

“Then don’t say no.” I press in closer so our chests brush.

“Isn’t it wrong for me to take advantage?” He’s faltering in his conviction, and I seize the opportunity.

“I’m pursuing you, and unlike what you’re used to, I can fuck all night.” I let my words curl around him as I pull back enough so he can see me grab my semi-hard cock through my slacks.

“Fuck,” he says on an exhale. He hesitates before throwing back the rest of his drink, but I almost have him. Then, he side eyes me. “Why do you look familiar?”

“I’d remember if we met.” The last thing I need is him recognizing me through my father. Nothing kills my hard on faster than being asked about him.

“You’re right. I’m sure I’d remember you too.” He studies me again. “Why are you having a bad night?”

“It doesn’t matter, and you don’t need it to either.”I don’t let him stall.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather talk about it?” He’s sweet, and that just makes him more attractive. He needs to shut up so I don’t like him more than I should.

“No, I’d rather get a taste before you decide to stay in Florida.”

Amusement flashes in his eyes, but it never reaches his lips. He’s a tough one to crack. Finally, he leans in enough to barely rub his cheek against mine. “Then take a taste.”

I turn into his touch, lips meeting. I barely part mine, teasing with a hint of tongue to leave him wanting more. He chases the kiss and gasps into my mouth, and I pull back, flicking my tongue over his full lower lip as I do. He growls out his frustration, grabbing the back of my neck as his touch sparks through me, igniting lust all the way to my dick.

“Where?” he asks, as if I’d fuck him in the bathroom.

Not a chance.

I’m taking my time with him.

“Where’s your hotel?” I can’t take him home.

“Upstairs.”