Page 25 of Puck Lust

Shit. I really am not in the mood for this. Not tonight.

The guy leans in close. “No paparazzi where we’re going, either.”

I hurry and slide into the back seat, followed by my puckboy. He slams the door shut and settles back against the leather seat. His eyes glow in the darkness, sparking with promise.

“It’ll be like nothing you’ve ever experienced.”

His tone grates at my ears. In the bar, his voice was low and husky, full of promise.

Now it’s laced with something else.

Maybe he’s just a freak like that.

I’ve had enough whiskey tonight to be open to pretty muchanything. And judging from his size, I figure if he turns out to be a psychotic fan, I can destroy him with one punch.

I stare out the window as his fingers creep over the top of my jeans. They slowly graze my cock through the fabric, then his hand cups my balls. I take in a sharp breath.

Fuck, I need this.

I lean my head back against the seat, my eyes drooping closed.

It can be anyone’s hand…

If the driver realizes what we’re doing, he doesn’t let on.

The car pulls to a stop next to a curb. I open my eyes. The street is quiet and the front of the hotel is clear.

The guy was right.

Good fucking thing.

The lights cast a dim halo over the street below. Puckboy opens the door and slides out. I follow, taking a quick look around the deserted street in uptown Oakland. Squaring my shoulders, I follow him through the revolving glass doors and duck behind a white column near the elevator while he makes the arrangements for a room.

I really don’t need anyone poking into my private business. I don’t exactly hide the fact that I’m gay, but it’s still not widely embraced for a professional hockey player, so I try to fly under the radar whenever I can.

Not everyone will be the fucking asshole that my father was and still is, but tolerance is a fickle bitch and the levels always vary.

I take a look around the lobby, my eyes sweeping over the white and black marble tile floor, gray leather couches, glass and chrome end tables. The place is chic, modern, and on the newer side. Not exactly the kind of hotel that rents rooms by the hour, not that I plan to be here for more than a few. Theflight to Ohio leaves early tomorrow, and tonight is just about getting my head on straight for the game.

An image of Carter blasts my mind, making my heart clench. Then one of him fucking Livvie claims the front and center spot, and my stomach plummets into my shoes.

Jesus, if I ever needed an instant dick deflator, I think I just found it.

I can tell myself this has nothing to do with Carter but that’d be a big fat ass lie.

It has everything to do with him and chasing those thoughts of him and Livvie out of my goddamn head.

I keep myself hidden until the guy comes over, a seductive smile on his lips and a key card in his hand. “Ready?”

I nod and stab the Up button.

The doors open and we step inside. I keep my distance since places like these always have hidden cameras in the elevators, and the last thing I want is to see myself flashed on TMZ on my way to a sordid tryst with a rando I picked up at a bar.

“You seem nervous,” he says, stepping closer.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Let’s just keep the talking to a minimum, yeah? I didn’t come here to word puke all over you. I had other ideas.”

“And I have the same ideas,” he says with a waggle of his dark eyebrows. “Trust me, once we get into that room, you won’t have to worry about words coming out of my mouth. Just focus on what will go into it.”

---