Page 79 of Forbidden Hockey
“I don’t like it, Dirk. I hate seeing you upset because I know how much your brother means to you, but you’re your own man. I still think you’re crazy for wanting to be with me, but it’s your choice. Not Hunter’s, and not mine. Plus, I’m in too fucking deep at this point to be anything less than selfish. Look at me, I’ve turned into a fucking wreck missing you, pretty boy.”
All my anger dissipates. Vanishes into thin air.
And sue me, but I kinda like knowing Trav is a wreck because I wasn’t here. I smile.
Thick fingers slip under and grip the front of my jeans, yanking me off the counter.
“Oof!”
My low back hits the rim of the bar top. Hot lips annihilate mine, and the sweet smell of cigar mixes with beer as his tongue enters my mouth.
I pull away. “You’re not supposed to be smoking, Trav.” He’s no spring chicken. His lungs. I worry about his lungs. I am soooo finding every cigar, cigarette, fucking vape pen, and disposing of that shit.
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now? I’m losing my touch,” his gruff voice scratches out.
Shit. Trav kissed me. My brain hadn’t figured that out yet. It has now.
“No, I … no,” I say, pissed at myself for ruining our reunion kiss. My body’s alive with a brand of tingles I’ve never felt before.
Trav’s thumb rubs over my bottom lip. “Now get your ass in my bed, pretty boy. Time to welcome you home properly.”
My hat falls off once we’re in the door, with him pushing his hands into my hair as he kisses me with more clarity. This is better than the kiss downstairs. That one held a bit of hesitation; this one doesn’t.
This one says,I’m done trying to stay away from you.
He kisses me with his tongue, slamming me all around his apartment, spinning me, finding a new surface, only to kiss me again. He does his thing, drowning me without needing water to do it, literally stealing my breath. I’ve lost my will to breathe anyway. If I die like this, Travis stealing all my oxygen, so be it.
I’m happily lightheaded by the time his hands find the hem of my shirt as mine fiddle with his belt. He yanks the shirt over my head, puffing my shaggy hair. Trav’s eyes glow with lust.
“What’re you thinking about, killer?” he says, kissing his way up my neck. “God, I missed the way you taste. I’ve been fucking dreaming about this mouth.”
Killer. That’s a new one. I like it. It’s a nice contrast to “pretty boy”, which I’ve come to love a lot more than I thought I would. Every time it falls from his lips, hell, even in a text, I melt.
“And I’ve missed your big fat cock, Trav. Please,pleasefuck me.”
“Mhm. Plan on it.” He yanks my jeans down, and I kick them off. I snap open the button and unzip his. I don’t look down. I wanna see all of him at once. Every time I had to suffer through watching him do outdoor chores, sweating away, shirtless, I’denvision all of him. Dream about it. What would his naked, round ass look like? How big’s his dick?
Now I know, but the novelty’s far from worn off.
I keep my eyes closed while I kiss him, working each button of his plaid shirt open, tracing the hot skin over his abs before I push the shirt away from his shoulders. He deepens the kiss, and I explore with my hands first, filling in the ridges and valleys of him with my mind. Letting his familiar scent burrow into my senses.
We come up for air, panting. I open my eyes.
Trav’s nearing his mid-forties, but you’d never know it. Fuck, I’d go as far as to say your forties isn’t as old as some people make it out to be. He works out, and outside of working out, he’s active. He’s got the largest pecs I’ve ever seen up close and a perfect V, tapering down to his crotch. His dick’s better than I could have dreamt up. Long, thick, uncut.
Hard.
He’s so fucking hard for me.
One of his hard-working hands strokes his cock a few times. Bet those callused hands feel so good, scratching their way up and down like that. “I hope you know you’ve fucking asked for it, Dirk. I was gonna let you go home tonight.”
“I am home.” I can take whatever he wants to throw at me. I belong right here.
He’s staring again. Don’t know what that means. He keeps looking at me. He’s always looking at me.
Trav throws me against the wall, face forward this time. My palms meet the flat surface.Crack!Hot pain blooms over my right ass cheek through my cotton boxers, but I’m quickly divested of those as he pulls them halfway down my thighs.
“Fuck, you’re pretty.”
