NINETEEN
Max
T he universe is telling me something. This can’t all be fucking random.
“There’s a sofa,” Luca says, pointing.
“I wouldn’t call that a sofa. It’s an over-sized chair masquerading as one.” I let go of my suitcase and start emptying my pockets. A second later, I realize I dumped my shit all over the desk.
It’s a typical chain hotel room with a credenza for clothes that holds a television, and a writing desk with an ugly lamp.
I stare down at my phone, wallet, and the keycard. “Sorry. Habit. Madison usually uses the credenza for his stuff.”
“I don’t have a preference. I’m not here to make your life miserable,” Luca says, sounding pissed off.
The guy’s doing his job. He didn’t ask for this assignment. And it’s not his fault why he bothers me. Or maybe it is. Perhaps he should have told Beck and the GM that he’s gay, or bi, whatever, and it isn’t a good idea for him to be rooming with a player.
Only, that’s terribly unfair. And bias.
He’s been a gentleman. When he’s not eye-fucking me, even though I drink in his stare. He’s been professional, except when I ask him personal questions and he graces me with brutal and salacious honesty.
I consider my thought the other day, just let something happen between us. Test out who the hell I am. He’s leaving. Even if I decide to pursue guys full time, it won’t be with him .
My heart twitches, thinking that.
Fuck, this confusion is torture. And I don’t even know if he’s into me. Maybe the eye-fucking is just how he looks at people.
Why shouldn’t he be into me?
One second I’m pissed that he may want me, and the next, more pissed that he may not want me.
“You know what?” I step back and kick off my shoes. “This doesn’t matter. Sleep on the sofa, the floor, the bed, your call. We’re adults. I need a shower.”
Stripping in front of Madison never blipped my radar because we see each other in the locker room. It dawns on me that Luca has probably seen me naked. I’ve caught security around the locker room for reasons I never questioned. And never thought: What if they’re into dudes?
I’m fighting an attraction to men, but I’ve not wanted to fuck any of my teammates.
I strip out of my suit until I’m down to my briefs. Which have to go, and I mean in a broader sense because if I get hard around Luca, he’ll know.
But he’s ignoring me, opening his suitcase, and then hanging his suit jacket in the stand-up wardrobe next to the television.
I pass him and he turns. We collide and he jumps back.
“Shit. Sorry. Didn’t see you,” he says, sounding guilty.
“I’d rephrase that. You’re supposed to be watching me.”
“You’re not a two-year-old.” He steps toward me. “I’m guarding you.”
Chain hotel rooms are not built for hockey players who are almost all over six feet tall with a wide girth. But I never felt the walls close in on me with Madison like I feel them with Luca.
Maybe I want them to close in. Shove us together, force me to act on these feelings. See if he’s receptive.
More sweat trickles down my back and I step away. “I’ll be in the bathroom. Do you need the toilet?”
“No,” he says sharply.
I scoff. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. I’m not a dick.”
“Could have fooled me.” His mouthing off to me has me confused as fuck.
I don’t know if I want to punch him or kiss that smart-ass mouth and suck on his wicked pierced tongue. I want to feel it on my ass. In my ass. Only, that’s where my trigger points lay.
Anal penetration. All of my secret encounters have been me on top, or just blowjobs. I haven’t even let a guy finger me. Memories of Uncle Harris still sting and make me sick.
I’ve made peace with that abusive vacation. Even though he held me down, threatened, beat, and brutalized me. I’m no victim. I’m stronger than that.
In the bathroom, I close the door but leave it unlocked. There’s no worse feeling than having to pee.
Okay, there are. A stick across the jaw. A skate blade cutting your cheek. Oh, and an adult man’s cock in your young ass, taking you for the first time against your will.
UNDER THE HOT SPRAY , my mind drifts to Jake. The situation with him is intrinsically connected to the rape. His telling on me led to the weekend with Uncle Harris.
Jake had a girlfriend. To her, I was just his best friend and teammate. I became much more when I climbed into his bedroom window at night. He let me fuck him, moaned, and clawed at me like he loved it.
I thought maybe he loved me. I still don’t know what turned everything so upside down. Why did Jake lie to his parents out of nowhere? My mom was so distraught, but nothing like my father. He was so fucking livid and sent me for a weeklong fishing trip with his brother, who got a set of instructions: Butch up this pussy.
I.e.: Rough the gay out of me.
Whether or not Dad knew his brother would spend all week raping me is a question I haven’t been able to ask, and it’s caused a resentment I’ve long buried to survive. Especially after I got signed to the Crushers.
My parents started asking for money when I made it big. I worried they’d go to the press if I denied them. Worried they would give those hungry vultures a juicy scoop of my past with Jake.
I write those checks every month to keep them quiet.
With my hand on the shower wall, my head sagging in exhaustion, I push away all those terrible memories. Only, I’m hard. Some kind of sick reaction to my past trauma.
That, and I haven’t been laid in weeks.
Swallowing, I reach down and stroke my cock.
“Fuck,” I mutter, it’s so hard and sensitive.
It won’t take long to come.
As I pump it, using the soap to keep it slick, I fight to think of the last woman’s lips wrapped around my shaft. But a face won’t come to mind.
The only lips I see are Luca’s.
His mouth.
Why is he into men? Did it just happen? Who was his first? What’s his story other than the bodyguard? Now I have a visual to get off by.
His wife’s bodyguard. Oh, Christ, that’s a good one. Except the wife probably didn’t think so.
I picture Luca naked. His body looks perfect in a suit. A suit he fills out to perfection. Even the dressed down version of tight T-shirts that hug his pecs and abs make him so damn sexy.
God, that ass... It’s high, round and looks tight as hell. Would he take it up the ass? I won’t. I can’t.
I want his mouth around my dick. Feel it slide across his hot, pierced tongue while he takes me deep into his throat. He’s got a thick neck, and if he’s been blowing men for a while, he can swallow me down.
My legs shiver, every cell vibrates, and my balls tighten as I squeeze my cock with the water sluicing across the length. It’s hot and soapy, slick like a guy’s saliva.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Luc, right there. You fucking jerk. Take my dick in your mouth.”
Angry sex... Yeah. We can take out our frustration by getting sweaty in the sheets.
Hot cum crawls up my dick, and next I’m shooting ropes of it on the shower wall. It’s the best climax I’ve had in a while, and it shatters me.
Breathing heavily, I turn off the water, which has gone cold, and push the curtain away.
Luca is standing there holding a toothbrush watching me, his face pale.