No Pucks (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #1)

3. Anthony

THREE

ANTHONY

W e’re in the elevator before I realize what I’m doing, before I can stop myself. I need this too much.

He pulls back, lips slightly swollen, and he smiles effortlessly. He’s happy, and it’s easy for him. I want to drink it from his skin. I forgot what joy feels like, but maybe he’ll give me a taste. I grab him by the back of his head, dragging him forward into another kiss, only to be interrupted by the ding of the elevator alerting us to my floor.

We step off, and his swagger is cocky.

What am I doing? I don’t even know his name.

He turns, walking backward down the hall, already unbuttoning his shirt. If I wasn’t already hard, seeing him like this would make me. Every inch he exposes of his porcelain skin sends a bolt of lust through my veins. I put my key card to the door, swallowing down all the thoughts telling me I shouldn’t do this. I’ve been divorced for two years, but it still feels a little wrong. Before my marriage, I had a bunch of one nightstands. What’s wrong with me? Can I not do this anymore?

Am I really about to hook up with a guy?

I get the door open with shaky hands, unsure of what I’m about to do.

We’re met with the view of lower Manhattan stretched out across the floor-to-ceiling windows, glittering lights illuminating the foyer and expansive living room. He isn’t impressed, brushing past me like he belongs. So he comes from money. I shouldn’t be surprised. Most of the city is far richer than I ever dreamed of being, and I played professional hockey.

“Do you go to college in the city?” I ask when I close the door.

He looks young, early twenties, but I have to be sure. “I do, but I grew up here. I’m not a transplant.” He’s close, not giving me an inch of room or a free breath from his alluring cologne. He smells like money—money and sex, with hints of amber and spice.

Exactly what I expect sex with a man to smell like.

“And what’s wrong with transplants?” I’d spent most of my life as one, going to whichever city offered me the best contract until I was injured.

“Nothing, as long as they don’t come to a place they’ve never lived and act like they own it.” He strips off his shirt, and I can’t tear my gaze away. He’s the peak of physical perfection but inches shorter than my six-foot-five. I bet I could throw him around.

My gut twists with arousal at the idea. “And how do I act?”

“Do you think I’d be pursuing you so boldly if you were acting like a fool?” His smile is smug as he hooks a finger in the neck of my tee, pulling me forward.

I spent a few years in the NHL, slept with more women than I remember, and I don’t have half the charisma this guy does. Maybe that’s why I consented so readily.

Whatever he is, it’s intoxicating.

“What do you want?” I ask, because at first, I thought he wanted me to fuck him, but getting more of a taste of his personality, I’m not sure he’s a bottom anymore. Are those things even real? All my knowledge of gayness comes from porn and Reddit. “We might not be compatible.”

He rubs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, not breaking our eye contact as he pulls me deeper into the room. “Do you even know what you like?”

“What do you like?” My steps falter, and he turns on me as smooth as ever.

“I like getting what I want.” His tone drips smugness.

“And what is that?” I’m not letting him get away with a non-answer.

“I like a big guy throwing me around.” He takes a step closer, meeting my eyes. “Do you know what you like? Because you didn’t answer either.”

My cock responds to his words, aching behind the tight denim of my jeans. “I know what I like.” A bit of a white lie.

“With men?” he corrects. How does he see right through me?

I take his hand, setting it on my cock, letting him feel me through the fabric. “I’ll like your lips around my dick.”

He drops to his knees, looking up at me through blond lashes. “Then feed it to me.”

“You little whore.” I’m opening my belt before I make a conscious decision.

He presents his tongue, but it’s not submissive at all. It’s an act of triumph. He won and he knows it. I don’t give him it all, unwilling to give him the win fully. I won’t let it be that easy for him, so I rub my tip over his upper lip, smearing my pre-cum there.

He moans and tries to wrap his lips around me, but I pull back.

“Not yet.”

His upper lip pulls in a snarl, telling me our whole encounter will be a fight.

I’m starved for it.

More than I even realized.

I’d held back my entire marriage, forcing myself to leave every primal part of me on the ice and out of my relationship. I’d nearly forget how much I crave this—that is, until I’d get close to another man, and every need would come rushing back.

I don’t have to ignore it anymore.

But I still hesitate. I’ve stopped myself so many times, but what do I have to lose? My career is ruined. I’m out of the league. I can be with men without risking anything. I’m divorced. There is nothing else.

I brush my tip over his beautiful, full pink lips, finally letting him wrap them around me. His eyes close as he moans, the hum vibrating pleasure through my cock. He grabs my hips so I can’t pull back, taking more of me into his mouth.

He takes his time, licking up my shaft, swirling his tongue around my head, taking me back into his mouth. I’ve never in my life gotten a blow job like this. Is this what it’s like to get head from someone who enjoys it? It’s like night and day. If this is how all guys suck dick, I don’t know if I can ever go back.

My fingers slip into his hair, encouraging and guiding. He looks up at me with steel blue eyes and a devilish smile, and I almost come.

My breathing hitches, and I tug him off. “Stop.”

His brows pull. “Nervous?”

I shake my head.

“Then what?”

“Out of practice.” I shrug, not wanting it to be a big deal. “Been a long time since I hooked up with someone and didn’t even know their name.”

“Logan.” He gets to his feet. “So I’m not the only whore?”

“Anthony, and no, you’re not. I’m just a—mostly reformed one.”

“Mostly?” There’s a flicker of something in his eyes.

Does he recognize me?

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Instinct takes over, and I dip my head to kiss his collarbone.

He shivers under my lips. “Too true. Why’d you reform?”

“Marriage does that to you.”

He nips at my ear, but I feel the hesitation in his every molecule. “You don’t have a ring on.”

“Divorced.”

He’s less stiff, but his nails dig into my hips. “Are you lying?”

“Would I have brought it up if I was?” I say, not sure there’s another way to convince him, short of calling my ex, and I don’t really want her to know I have a thing for men.

At least, not before I’m ready to share it with the world. Knowing her, she’d leak it and say me being gay is the reason for the divorce, not her own fucking actions.

“Then you should embrace that side of yourself and fuck my throat.” He searches my face before he thrusts his hands under my shirt to pull it off. His touch sparks my body alive, bringing it back from the coma it has fallen into the last five years. I press into him, chasing a high I thought I’d forgotten.

“I am.” I run my hands over his skin, around his hips, to his firm ass.

“Then why did you stop me?” he breathes over my lips.

“I want more.”

“What do you want?” He says it like a challenge.

“I want to see all of you,” I say, emboldened by lust.

His lips twist, widening his grin as he reaches for his belt.

My attention stays glued to his fingers, watching as he slowly pulls the leather from the loops and hooks it around his neck. I barely keep it together. If he’d done that with my dick in his mouth, I’d have lost it for sure.

“What else do you want?” He shoves down his slacks and steps out of them, leaving him in just tight boxer briefs that barely hide his cock.

“Right now, you in my lap.” I’d love to fuck him against a wall, but my bad knee won’t last standing holding his weight for long, and I want to enjoy this.

He steps back, waiting.

I give in to the impulse and grab him by the thighs, picking him up. I’m lucky I’ve got five or six inches on him and a whole lot of muscle, or this would fuck up my knee. But I shove all those thoughts away. I want to forget what my life has come to for one night.

He whimpers as he wraps his arms around my neck, lips meeting mine.

“Like that?” I carry him to the sofa, half falling into the seat with him straddling me.

“Very much. I love how much bigger you are than me.” He grinds his ass over my dick, sending a wave of pleasure down my spine.

I groan into his mouth. “I do too.” Size difference has always been my thing. I love manhandling, but I’m finding it even hotter with a guy, maybe because I know he could put up a fight if he wanted to.

He rolls his ass again, and I dig my blunt nails into his skin.

What would it feel like to be inside him? Balls deep as he clenches?

“These need to go.” I curl my fingers into the hem, peeling them down his ass.

“Then take them off.”

I growl, getting back to my feet, my bad leg warning me about getting up too fast. I ignore it, planning on enjoying this to its full extent, damn the consequences. I toss him on the sofa and rip the last scrap of fabric off his body, but I don’t stop there. I grab his hair with one hand and my cock with the other while I half kneel with my good knee, half straddle his face on the couch.

His pupils are huge in the low light, brimming with lust. “Feed me and don’t hold back.”

“Can you handle it?”

“I don’t have a gag reflex. You can come all the way down my throat.”

I groan and push between his lips. His eyes roll back in his head as he takes me into his throat, sucking like his life depends on it. His lips stretch around my girth, and he tilts his head back, allowing me deeper. I rock my hips, taking my time, wanting to live in this moment forever. He digs his nails into my thighs, encouraging me with his stifled moans. I can’t hold back any longer, and I start fucking his gorgeous face. His fingers explore my body, running through my dark hair, thumbs brushing nipples. He touches me like I’m a work of art to be adored. I’ve never in my life had anyone treat me this way.

He hollows his cheeks, swallowing around me as his eyes roll back in his head. Is he getting off on this as much as I am? The thought pushes me over the edge. I slam forward, cock pulsing while ecstasy explodes through me. I’m entirely consumed with pleasure, fucking my cum deeper down his throat.

Finally, I sit back on my heels, still half straddling his chest as I gulp for air. He licks his lips with a euphoric smile. “You fuck like a god.”

“You suck cock like a god. Christ. I’ve never had a blow job that good in my life.”

He beams under the praise. “You taste so good, it’s easy to want more.” He shoves my slacks down to my knees then pushes me back to a seat before climbing into my lap.

My knee thanks him for it, the ache returning to a dull thud. I kick off the rest of my clothes, leaving us both naked, reviving my dick in a way I don’t expect. I’m half hard again already, something I thought impossible for my age.

He takes my hand and wraps it around his cock, watching as I stroke him. He lifts onto his knees to fuck himself into my fist. “I could watch your hands on me forever.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever had a dick in my hand, and it’s almost as good as him touching mine. He’s silky smooth, long and thick, with a massive vein curving down his shaft. I’m mesmerized, and my mouth waters.

Do I want to suck his dick? I’m really taking this from zero to a million. “I want to get you off.”

“I want to come with you inside me.”

“I don’t know if a second time is in the cards.” I might be half hard, and my dick wants it, but I have limits. It hasn’t even been ten minutes.

“I can make you come again.”

I lift my brows. “Really sure of yourself, aren't you?”

He wraps his hand around me, and I’m fully hard again in seconds. “That’s what I thought.”

“Cocky fucking bastard.” I mirror his strokes with no idea what I’m doing, though the sounds coming out of him tell me I’m doing something right.

“I know what I’m good at.” He leans down to kiss me, cupping my face, thumb stroking over my jaw. “You’re going to make me come.”

“I thought that was the idea,” I murmur.

“Not for most “straight” guy types. They want to come and leave.”

I pull back to stare at him. “Why the fuck would they do that?”

He laughs. “Because they probably think me coming makes them gay.”

I’m speechless. “That’s some fucked up math. I’m pretty sure I crossed that line when I came down your throat.”

“You’re telling me. I think if a man makes them come, it counts, but people love to do mental gymnastics to justify their fragile mental state.” He purrs his words into my mouth, licking my tongue between them.

“I believe that.” Hell, I’d seen it. Hockey is full of toxic masculinity bullshit, and I guess I’d played into it by denying myself this. “Do you enjoy those types of guys?” I say before kissing him again, slowly this time. I want this second round to last longer. He feels too good in my lap to let go so soon. I want this night to last forever.

“I like being used, but I’d rather it be mutual.”

“I want you to come.” I twist my hand over his cock, branching out a little by using what I know I like doing to myself.

He moans, closing his eyes and deepening the kiss. “On your chest?”

“If that’s where you want.”

He nods, fucking himself into my hand more aggressively. But I don’t give into him so easily, knowing he likes to win. I have to play with him a little. I earn another whimper when I slow my strokes and grab his hip so he can’t control the pace.

“You’re mean.”

“You like it.” I bite his lip, reminding him who’s in control.

“Only until it hurts.” His breath hitches, and I slow down even further.

“It doesn’t hurt yet.”

“It’s about to.” There’s desperation in his tone.

I love it.

“You’ll come when I want you to come.” I lean over and spit between us, letting the saliva drip down his shaft before spreading it with my fingers, taking my fucking time.

He hisses, hips fighting my hold as he gulps in needy pants. “Fuuuuck.”

I rub my thumb under his tip, and his whole body reacts.

“Please, just let me come. I will do fucking anything.”

“Anything?”

“I’ll get on my knees and worship your cock for the rest of the fucking night! Please, just let me come.” His words make my cock jump.

“I’m going to hold you to that.” I let go of his hip, sliding my hand up his chest to play with his nipples while he fucks himself into my fist.

Logan doesn’t disappoint.

He’s perfection in the form of a writhing, sweaty mess, quickly painting my chest with his cum. Before I have a chance to speak, he’s bent over, licking it off my pecs, taking special care of my nipples before sliding off my lap to kneel between my knees.

“You don’t have to?—”

He cuts me off. “I keep my word.”

“I might not—” I want to warn him so he doesn’t get discouraged.

“You’re hard,” he whispers, blowing his hot breath over my cock.

“That doesn’t mean…”

He flattens his tongue, licking me from base to tip. “I’m sure I can make you come again.”

His confidence isn’t misplaced, and his tongue performs miracles.