Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
DIEGO
My laughter echoes in the stairway as Callan curses behind me, catching the door just before it swings closed in his face.
Slapshot is still panting like he’s the one who just sprinted half a block instead of the one being carried up the stairs like a football under my arm.
Spoiled pug. My hip gives a slight twinge—just enough to make me miss a step and give Callan the few seconds he needs to close the steps between us.
He tries to shoulder past me, but he’s deliberately careful.
He doesn’t want to hurt Slaps. Why is that so damn cute?
I’m not above using it to my advantage though, shouldering him back even harder and taking the rest of the stairs two at a time until we reach my floor.
We jostle and shove our way down the short hallway until we reach my apartment, and Callan slams his hand against the door a fraction of a second before I can.
“Two wins in one night, I’m a fucking god.” He smirks.
“Maybe we can find a way for you to get a hat trick before the night is over,” I flirt in a slightly breathless, husky voice, setting Slapshot down and opening the door.
“Now there’s an idea,” Callan purrs, looping his arm around my middle and backing into my apartment, careful not to trip over the dog, who darts inside, likely heading for the nearest air vent so he can flop down on it and cool himself off.
“How about we bet on how many times I can make you come before you pass out?”
I groan and my cock gives an eager twitch. I let him drag me inside, the door swinging closed behind me, my skin slick with sweat from being out in the heat and my fingers itching to get to the part where we start tearing each other’s clothes off.
“My record is three, and that was when I was nineteen, so you’ve got your work cut out for you.” I grin, wrapping my arms around him and sliding my hands up the back of his shirt. His skin is just as hot and damp as mine is, but he still smells damn good; musky and masculine.
“You know I love a challenge,” he murmurs, his lips grazing mine.
I chuckle, then kiss him for real, licking the sweat off of his lips before shoving my tongue between them with a muffled groan that vibrates between us.
We both clumsily kick our shoes off and start to stumble down the hallway, our tongues dragging against each other in a hungry rhythm.
His hard cock nudges mine through our shorts, our hands groping and tugging at each other’s clothes.
I can’t get over how good his sturdy body feels, solid in all the right places, all hard muscles that beg me to sink my fingers in or run my tongue over them.
It’s difficult to wrap my head around how I can be so damn attracted to him when it took me this long to look at a man this way, but there’s no point questioning it anymore.
Maybe it’s Callan, something irresistible about him that woke up parts of me I didn’t know existed.
Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I wasn’t ready to find this part of my sexuality until now.
It doesn’t matter. What matters is the way he groans “Fergie” around my tongue like it’s a curse and a prayer at the same time, and the way every inch of my body craves the feeling of his.
“Time for my prize, Fergie.” He grabs the bottom of my shirt, wrapping it around his hand and sliding two fingers into the waist of my shorts at the same time.
“What’s it gonna be?” My stomach flutters with anticipation and the barest hint of nerves, wondering what he’s going to want.
“Can I eat your ass?” Callan growls the request against my lips like a feral beast trying its best to pretend to be civilized.
My cock throbs and I instinctively clench my ass cheeks.
I can’t think of anything less straight than being on the receiving end of ass play.
I know about the prostate, obviously, and that some straight guys go there, but the thought of it has always made me cringe.
After the way Callan described the feeling though, and seeing how hard he came when I fucked him, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit curious.
He nibbles on my chin and rolls his hips, grinding his hard cock against mine through our clothes again while he waits for my answer.
“I’m all sweaty,” I hedge. I don’t think I’m hoping he’ll take it as a no, but I can feel my nerves mounting.
“I don’t give a fuck.” He tugs my bottom lip between his teeth and heat rushes through my body. I moan into his mouth as he catches mine in another deep, ravenous kiss, tangling his fingers in my hair and pulling me towards the bed. “If it’s a no, say no, Fergie.”
Is it a no?
I grab the bottom of his shirt and yank it up over his head, tossing it aside blindly.
His nipples are hard and his skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat.
I dip my head and drag my tongue along the curve of his pec, gathering the saltiness, the distinct, undeniable taste of man filling my mouth.
My hole is still clenched nervously, but my cock is aching at the idea of being face down, ass up, with Callan’s tongue going places no one else has ever gone before.
“Eat me out,” I murmur my consent, putting both hands on his chest and shoving him down onto the bed.
CALLAN
God damn. With Diego standing over me, stripping out of his clothes with a look of horny determination on his face, I could easily be convinced that I’ve died and gone to my favorite wet dream.
His skin is still the slightest bit flushed from the heat and our race back to his place, sweat droplets glistening on his pecs as he tosses his shirt aside and shoves his shorts down.
My eyes land on what he has on underneath and my breath catches.
“Fuck, man,” I murmur, grabbing the base of my cock and squeezing it with a low groan rumbling in my throat. He’s wearing my jock, the one he borrowed from my place the other day. He washed it and put it back on, and he’s just been walking around all day wearing my fucking underwear.
“Do you want them back?” he teases, making a move to strip them off too.
I sit up and grab his hand to stop him. “Leave them,” I say gruffly.
“I want you to come in them with my tongue so deep in your ass that you can’t think straight.
Then I want you to keep them, so I can drive myself fucking insane wondering if you’re wearing my jock every time I turn on the TV to watch one of your games. ”
Diego’s cock visibly twitches, and a dark, damp spot blooms right over his tip. He grabs my jaw roughly and leans in close.
“You’re a dirty perv, Cal. Are you going to watch all my games with your hand down your pants now? Jerking off and whining my name every time you see me slam a guy into the boards?” He climbs onto the bed and straddles my lap.
My hands land on his thighs, groping at his thick, sturdy muscles before I run them up to tease my fingers along the straps of the jock framing his ass.
“Who says I haven’t been doing that the whole time?” I flick my tongue along his bottom lip.
He grins and rolls his hips, his ass cheeks clenching under my hands and his cock bumping against mine through still too many layers of clothes.
“Well, now you can do it knowing I’m doing my best not to get hard thinking about you with your hand on your cock.”
I know it’s just dirty talk and he doesn’t really mean it, but a stupid part of me clings to the idea that he’ll still be thinking about me months from now when he’s back where he wants to be—on the ice, living his real life.
“Let me give you something else to think about.” I grab his ass cheeks in both hands and lift his heavy body off my lap.
He grunts in surprise as I flip him onto the bed and switch our positions, hovering over him, bracing my hands on either side of his head, grinding my cock down to meet his with a growl.
I catch his mouth in a tongue-heavy, needy rhythm, tugging my shorts and my own jock down and tossing them aside without breaking the kiss.
Diego’s hands are all over me like he can’t get enough of my body, his hips rocking to meet my thrusts. Precum drools from my cock, joining his to soak his jock as we move together, humping, grinding, and moaning around each other’s tongues.
“Flip over,” I grunt, sucking his bottom lip between my teeth one more time before sitting back to give him space to turn over.
I take back what I thought before—Diego standing over me half-naked isn’t my favorite wet dream, at least not anymore.
If there’s a prettier sight in the goddamn world than this man with his ass in the air, wearing my jock, spreading his thighs just enough to give me a peek at his untouched hole, I can’t imagine what it would be.
I groan and get up on my knees, taking his ass cheeks in both hands and spreading them so I can get a better look.
His hole twitches, visibly clenching, and he makes a quiet noise that’s somewhere between nervous and horny.
My cock jerks and my balls clench, dragging a moan from deep in my gut as I admire my prize.
“Fuck, that’s pretty.” I inch my thumb into his crease and tease it just along the inner edge, not quite touching his hole yet.
He wheezes a laugh, his whole body clenching and trembling a little. “Did you just call my asshole pretty?”
“Damn right I did.” I stroke his skin again, dipping closer this time. “We still good or are you having second thoughts?”
“I don’t know, are you planning to eat my ass or stare at it?” He arches his back just a little, a wordless sign that even if he’s still a little nervous or self-conscious about this, his body wants it.
“You savor a good meal, Fergie. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?” I lean in closer so he’ll be able to feel the heat of my breath waking up nerve endings he didn’t even know he had until now.