Page 138 of Forbidden Hockey

Fuck, I’m gonna be the most overprotective grampa out there.

There’s a knock. “Come in.”

Dirk strides through my office door, making a point to turn and lock it. He’s already pulling his shirt over his head before he’s even said hello.

“Fuck, I want you, Trav.”

All I need to hear.

His shirt’s on the floor, and I’m treated to a spectacular view of his torso. Golden bronze skin stretched over muscle, still leanfrom the hockey season. Every ridge of his abs flexes as he peels the fabric off. My eyes trace the sharp line down the center of his stomach, all the way to the trail disappearing into his jeans. He’s tight everywhere, carved in all the right places to drive me insane.

Those broad shoulders, chest flushed, rising with his quickened breath.

Fuuuuck.

My gaze catches on his pecs, the way they tighten when his arms lift, the subtle dusting of hair. My mouth waters. His lower stomach ripples when he kicks his jeans out of the way, like even his muscles can’t wait to be under my hands. My mouth aches to bite down, to leave a bruise near his nipple he’ll feel tomorrow.

He stands there, cocky and shameless, letting me look, knowing damn well I’m staring, eating him alive with my eyes before I can get my hands on him.

I’m up, shoving him against the wall hard enough to shake the building. My greedy hands span his chest and drag down his abs, memorizing every groove. He’s slick with sweat from whatever he was working on at Hunter’s. I dip my head and suck one of his nipples. A little cry scrapes from his throat.

I grin.

“Sensitive, huh?” I rasp against his ear.

“Fuck you,” he fires back, but it comes out shaky.

I go again, licking across the slope of his pec before I bite down, just hard enough to make him hiss. Then I soothe it with my tongue, claiming his sting as mine. His chest heaves against my mouth, his abs tightening under my hand.

“More.Please.I’ve been craving you all damn day.”

When I press my thigh between his, he grinds his boxers-covered cock against it, letting out a raw sound that ratchets my arousal.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, pretty boy.” I love having him stripped almost bare like this, just a cocky thing, trembling at the barest brushes of my touch, desperate to have me fuck him. I take his lips first, and then his breath, sucking it all away, sucking it into me. “Oh, you’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says with barely enough oxygen to do it. Know what? That’s too much. He shouldn’t be able to talk. I go in again until he squirms against me. He pulls in lungfuls of oxygen when I release him. “Fuck, Trav. Never gets old.”

I’m not dragging this out. I need him.Now.I fist a hand into his hair and haul him toward my desk.

He stumbles, half laughing, half cursing me. I bend him over the desk, slapping his ass for good measure. From that angle, he can see what I’ve got on my laptop—baby gear. It’s fun to imagine what he might be thinking, and he’s gonna have to wonder until I’m done with him. I snap it closed and set it to the side.

Dirk sticks his ass up for me, using it to beg. I slap it again. Kinda have a thing for making sure his ass is red before he leaves me. He whimpers, arching his back, clawing the worn wood. I lean over top of him, pinning him down with my chest against his back, my covered cock pressing into the thin cotton of his boxers.

“You tryna be in charge? Barging in here, stripping, being a fucking tease?” I growl.

“How was that teasing, Trav? I think I was making a pretty clear statement—” I don’t hear the rest of that sentence. His breath catches in his throat when I tug at his roots. He swallows. “I’m so not in charge, Trav. You. It’s always you.”

“That’s a good boy.”

He shudders, and I let up on him, but only so my hand can roam over his perfect torso, taking my time, knowing that if hecame in here as horny as he did, he’s slowly losing his mind. Dirk moans.

“Stay.” I reach into my drawer for lube and pull down his boxers only enough to coat the crack of his ass, doing my own version of teasing with two fingers in to the first knuckle. He pounds the desk with his fist. “You need it that bad, huh?”

“Yeah … yes.”

I toy with him, dragging my fingers deeper until he’s stretching around them. I press and fuck him with them as he keens back, already panting. I can’t drag this out today. I want him just as badly. I unzip my jeans and slide right in, his body giving way for my already leaking cock.

After that, it’s not pretty. Or maybe it is if violence is your thing. It’s definitely ours. The desk shakes, rocking underneath us. His hands white-knuckle the edge for as long as they can, but at some point, he can’t hang on any longer. I bite and nip his skin, sucking bruises over that perfect, perfect torso, ruining it. Fucking terrorizing it.