30. CONNOR
THIRTY
CONNOR
The second the team arrives home, I don’t bother going back to the house I now hate. I loved it not too long ago when I bought it, but it’s the type of place I thought I should have, not what spoke to me.
I thought I was laying down roots, growing up, and doing what those who had their shit together did. But the spacious house only reminds me of what my life is now: empty.
Hockey isn’t the same, things I thought I once loved no longer bring me joy, and according to that viral mantra by that lady I can’t remember the name of, I need to rid it all from my life.
There’s really only one thing that’s keeping me going, and as unhealthy as it is to obsess over a new relationship to the point of finding everything else meaningless, being with Parker makes me feel like a brand-new person.
Maybe I need to see someone about it, but why do that when I can let myself into Parker’s building and knock on his door to get the same validation?
Delusion? Hi, it me.
Yet, when he opens that door, all I get is a sense of … not ho me, exactly, but safety. Someone I can do or say anything I’m feeling, and he doesn’t judge me for it. I’ve had more than enough judgment I can handle for one year from the very people I’m closest to—including myself.
Parker eyes me up and down. “Didn’t even go home first, I see. Unless that huge suitcase means you’re suddenly moving in. I’m loving spending time with you, but it’s a bit soon for that, don’t you think?”
“Way too soon.” Though the thought of never going back to my house does fill me with happiness. “But I couldn’t wait to see you.”
I enter the apartment and set my suitcase down, closing the door behind me with my foot. My gaze roams over him, greedily drinking him in.
He’s in a plain gray T-shirt that’s too big on him and black sweats that hide everything I want to see. Everything I want to … maybe suck.
“Connor?” Parker asks.
I shake out of my blatant ogling. “Hmm?”
He smiles. “I asked if you wanted a drink.”
He did? Eh. “Only if you’re offering up a drink of you.” I grab the waistband of his sweats and pull him toward me, all the while wincing. “That sounded a lot more smooth in my head than it did out loud.”
Parker’s good mood doesn’t waver. “I don’t care. You can be as corny as you like when you’re saying nice things to me.” He tilts his head more, leaning in and bringing our mouths so close I want to rush to press our lips together.
But not before I tell him this: “I missed you.”
His eyes widen like he can’t believe it, even though we said it on the phone to each other while I was gone. If he doesn’t believe it because they’re empty words, there’s no way he’d be able to deny it’s true when I surge forward and kiss him.
My mouth moves against his, firm and dominant, but when I push my tongue against his, it’s nothing but slow and sensual. Because this isn’t about our physical connection. It isn’t about having an orgasm after days of being apart. I want to show him that I’m truly in this. That I want to be with him and that I might not know much about what I want when it comes to other elements of my life, but I do know I want him.
All of him.
And maybe he’s right. It is too soon to be having these types of thoughts, but as long as I keep them as inside thoughts, we should be fine.
I don’t want to scare him off, but I also don’t want him to think that I’m only using him to explore my bisexuality. It’s way more than that.
I’m serious about him, and I want to do what other same-sex couples do in relationships. All of it. Starting with this. I’m fucking terrified of doing it wrong, but it’s not about me. It’s about making him feel good.
I wrap my arms around his waist and hoist him up so that when I turn toward his kitchen counter, his ass slides across the marble effortlessly.
This probably isn’t the best angle to give him a blowjob, but I figure it’s better for my degenerating hockey knees if I don’t have to rest on them.
Parker tries to grind against me, and I have visions of fucking him like this. His ass hanging off the edge of the counter, me slamming into him while he has to hold on to the edge so he doesn’t fall backward into the sink. What’s sex without a little core workout?
But that’ll have to happen another time. I’m determined to suck Parker’s cock and be good at it. Or at least not so horrible it ends with bite marks and an ER visit. I have to have realistic expectations for my first time.
I grip his hips and take a step backward, and he tries to follow, not letting our mouths break apart .
A laugh bubbles out of me, skimming across his lips.
He breaks away. “I need you.”
“I want all of you,” I reply.
I lift the hem of his shirt, and he helps me take it off, and then his sweats go next. He hisses when he settles back on his ass.
“Cold counter?” I ask.
“Little. Don’t care.” Parker grips the back of my hair and pulls me back to his mouth.
We go back to making out, and as eager as I am to get my mouth around his cock, I like this too. Tasting, teasing …
He captures my bottom lip in his teeth, and I groan.
I’d love to feel his skin against mine. I’m wearing way too many clothes, but I also don’t want to pull away from him again.
I work open my pants and drop them to the floor, but I can’t step out of them without nearly falling over because my head is swimming.
In the end, I have to give up kissing him, not only so I can get rid of the rest of my clothes but to catch my breath and compose myself enough to get the courage to do this.
It’s way too tempting to pull him against me and rut until we both explode.
Even though our mouths have gotten sloppy and I can feel his saliva on my lips, my tongue is drier than the Sahara.
We’re both naked now. Him on the kitchen counter, me standing between his widened legs, and as I stare down at his needy cock, his swollen head stretching his tight, velvety skin, I can practically taste his desperation already. I want to taste it for real. Have all of him—or at least most of him—in my mouth.
“Con?” he rasps.
I glance up at his gorgeous face, unable to connect the stunning man in front of me with the invisible guy I passed by every day during my senior year of high school. Was he always this good-looking? Had I noticed back then but never thought anything more of it? Or was I so in my superficial era that all I saw was what everyone else did? A loser computer geek with a dandruff problem. And that smile.
Yet here I am, standing before him, offering to suck his cock.
Oh, how ten years can change a person.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “You just … stopped.”
“I want … I want to …” I stare down at his cock again and get the words out in a rush. “Use my mouth.” Heat creeps up my neck. “But I don’t know what I’m doing. I could do what I did when I was a virgin, which was pretend I knew what I was doing and give you the worst orgasm ever. Fuck, maybe I can’t even do that. I doubt Jade Whatsherface got off back then. What if?—”
Parker covers my mouth with his hand. “How about we don’t talk about the people you hooked up with in high school?”
Right. Probably a great way to ruin the mood. He removes his hand.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m out of my element, and as much as I want to fake confidence, I can’t with you.”
He reaches for my face again, but this time, it’s to cup my cheek. “You know you don’t have to do anything, right?”
“I do. But I want to. I just want to make sure I’m good at it. For you.”
“Then that right there is all you need,” he says softly. “It doesn’t matter if you’re good at it or you suck—pun intended. You wanting to make it good for me already puts you ahead of any other man I’ve been with.”
“What?”
He shrugs. “Well, mostly, the guys I’ve been with have been experienced. Or at least pretended to be like you said. When someone thinks they know what they’re doing, it can be difficult to correct them, you know? Egos get involved. I’m assuming with you that if I tell you what I like, you’ll listen because you don’t have this past full of other dicks you’ve made come and assume it would be the same with me.”
“That kind of makes sense.”
Parker shakes his head, and his unstyled hair falls in his face. “I’m blabbering. I’m delirious with blue balls. At this rate, all you’ll have to do is put your lips on me and I’ll come, so …”
I smile. “It would make it a lot easier for me if you could do that.”
“I promise it won’t take much.”
“And I promise I’ll try not to bite your dick off.”
His hand on my cheek freezes. “Okay, now I’m worried.”
“You reckon old people with dentures give good blowjobs? If you think about it, if they take their teeth out, they’d be all gums. Maybe I should tell the team’s dentist to stop giving me dental implants whenever they get knocked out on the ice from now on.”
Parker blinks at me. “I’m starting to think you don’t want me to come at all because with that visual in my head, it’s really hard to keep, well, hard.”
I bite my bottom lip. “I might be stalling.”
Parker taps my shoulder and wriggles his butt off the counter, pushing me to get out of his way as he sets his feet down.
“Wait, what are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m taking the decision away from you. I’m not going to let you give me a blowjob. How about that?”
“Nooo. I want to.”
“It doesn’t seem like you do, and it’s totally fine. I’m taking the decision out of your hands.” He turns and ambles toward his bedroom.
“Where are you going? ”
“I was going to go jerk off in the shower, but if you want to join me, I’ll allow you to do it for me.”
“No, I’m going to blow you.”
“No, you’re not.”
I’m, like, two seconds away from stomping my foot like a child. “Yes, I am, and you can’t stop me.” My face falls. “Shit. Wait, unless you actually do want to stop me and are taking away consent, then of course I’ll back off, but if you’re doing this for me, don’t.”
He eyes me, trying to figure me out. Join the club, Parks. All I know is now that he’s said I can’t blow him, I want to prove that I can.
Stubborn streak? Apparently, it’s an old Connor and new Connor trait. Check that off the list.
“I’m not taking away consent,” Parker says. “I’m taking away the pressure. There’s a difference.”
I don’t hear much after he says he’s not taking away his consent. That’s a green light, and I don’t hesitate to pounce on him.
I put my hand on his chest and guide him backward until he’s up against the wall right next to his bedroom door.
It’s probably a good thing that he almost took my chance away because it only makes me want it more, and it gives me the courage to go through with it.
I sink to my knees—fuck the pain they’ll be in later—and am maybe too overeager as I try to take as much of him in my mouth at once.
My gag reflex threatens to make me cough immediately, but I swallow that down. Nope, nope, not going to cough. The salty taste is also a shock to the system, but I’m not letting that get to me either. Holding everything back only brings water to my eyes though, and Parker pulls out of my mouth himself.
“How about we ease into it first? Go slow and only put the tip in your mouth while you use your hand to cover the rest.”
Glancing up at him through my lashes, I lower my head and try again, only taking the round mushroom head of his cock past my lips. When my thick fingers wrap around the base of his cock, Parker’s eyes roll back in his head.
“That feels so good.”
His encouragement is what gives me even more motivation. But I don’t allow myself to jump ahead this time.
Slowly, I lower my head, taking more of him in my mouth and then pulling back up. I suck on his tip while using my hand in the opposite direction. My lips meet my hand over and over until I get used to having him in my mouth.
Parker’s moans are loud, only spurring me on. His breath quickens, he grips my hair loosely, and I know he’s enjoying it because what he said is true. If he told me to change something up to make it even better for him, I wouldn’t take it as an insult. I’ll do whatever he wants me to so I can get him across the finish line.
The more I bob my head, the more of him I fit in my mouth, the more I get used to his taste. The saltiness comes and goes with each dribble of precum, and while I thought I wouldn’t like how it feels, I drink him down greedily. At one point, there’s so much I swear he’s come without warning me, but nope. He’s still going. He’s still moaning, still looking blissed-out, and he’s still only gripping my hair like he’s cradling my head more than taking any kind of control over my movements.
The thought of him coming down my throat by surprise is actually really hot. So hot I have to use my free hand to take care of my own need.
Parker senses the movement and brings his chin down, those blue eyes watching me. I don’t take my gaze off him either.
“You remember what I did to you the other day on the couch?” he asks.
How could I forget? My ass tenses at the thought, as if searching for that wandering finger again. I nod as subtly as I can.
“I need you to do that for me.” He’s breathing so hard now. “I’m so close. I’m so fucking close, and that will be the end of me. I know it.”
As much as I’d love to see how far I could go, how deep I could take him, bringing him this close to the edge is too much of an accomplishment to drag it out. I want him to break. I want him to crumble, and when he’s done, I want him to realize what I’ve been trying to deny ever since he waltzed into my life: He’s it for me.
The second I move my hand from his shaft to behind his balls, giving his sac a light squeeze while circling his rim with my finger, his grip in my hair tightens, and then my mouth fills with his cum.
Surprisingly, I don’t choke, though some spills out and down my chin. It could be my fault or his because in the next second, his cock falls from my mouth, and I’m suddenly on my back with him on top of me, his still-erupting cock rubbing all over me as he grinds against me.
His cum makes it slippery as fuck, and before I know it, my cum joins his, my orgasm hits, and my brain becomes a happy pile of mush.
Parker continues to move against me but slows until we’re both spent. I close my eyes and bask in the post-gasm bliss. That is, until he starts laughing uncontrollably.
My eyes fly open. “Shit, I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
He’s still laughing. “No, no. You were … phenomenal. But … did you say you were a happy pile of mush at the end there?”
“That was out loud?”
“Yes.”
Oops. “Eh. I said what I said. You do make me a happy pile of mush. ”
Just like that, he doesn’t find it funny anymore, and I’m worried I’ve overstepped, or maybe that’s too serious for him.
The longer he stares into my eyes without saying anything, the more self-conscious I become. I try to find words. Try to find something that will deescalate what I’ve said. But all that comes out is “I think I’m falling for you.”
Fucking. Idiot.
That is not deescalating.