Page 49 of Forbidden Hockey

“Punishment?”

He hasn’t put his helmet on yet, too busy scorching me with that raw, carved-out face. Every feral line, every shadow cut sharp under the streetlights. The word punishment on its own coils in my gut, but paired with that look? It sets me off in ways that don’t feel very punishment-like. Does he want to spank my dick? He can. I heartily consent.

“That’s what happens to misbehaved husbands under my roof,” he growls in a voice that says whatever he has in mind isn’t up for debate.

He’s the predator, and prey doesn’t get choices.Fuck that’s hot. That’s sooooo fucking hot.

I shake my head, fondly. “I’m not under your roof, Trav.”

“Close enough.” Trav removes his leather jacket and stuffs my arms into it.

It’s the only leather jacket between the two of us. “What are you gonna wear?”

“We’re not going far.”

“That’s not an answer to my question, Travis.” I seldom use his full name.

“I’ll travel slowly.”

That answers nothing. His head’ll be protected, but not his skin from becoming hamburger meat if we crash out.

He grips my chin. “I’m not gonna crash tonight. I’m carrying precious cargo.” He rubs a thumb over my bottom lip.

It shouldn’t win me over, but it does. I pop the helmet on. Once he’s on the bike, I get to secure my arms around him and lean against his back. He revs the engine.

“Hold on tight, pretty boy.”

Chapter

Six

Trav

Being away this time was different than all the other times. All I could think about was the man who’s currently molded into the back of me. I’ve already texted my son to see where he and the rest of their gang ended up tonight. The summary is: no one’s at the restaurant.

I’m buzzing with a low and dangerous hum, a predator’s calm before I put Dirk in his fucking place. He’s mine. The thought of him out with some stranger drove me to climb on my bike and follow his ass. Dirk’s not even the target of my rage; the asshole that had his hands on him is—yep, even Hunter’s hearty bread wasn’t enough to make me forget. I know Dirk only wanted his brother off his back, but instincts aren’t rational. They don’t care that it was a fake date or that he was cornered. They only know that someone touched what doesn’t belong to them. I should be tracking fuckface down, instead, I’m going to take Dirk apart, piece by piece, until he understands how much he belongs to me in a way he couldn’t with anyone else.

I pull him inside, and make sure to lock the doors this time—we’re not so good at that. I’m on a mission. Tossing the helmet on a table, I shove my leather jacket off him.

Fuck, I’m having a hard time deciding if I want to kiss him or scold him. I know young people are used to that fucking dating app, but it’s dangerous. I told Dash he wasn’t to use it. If he wanted to date, he’d have to do it the old-fashioned way. I suppose he could be using it behind my back, but I like to think he heeded my decree. I don’t make too many with him.

I hold Dirk’s gaze with my dark one. “Never again, Dirk.”

He shakes his head. “Never.”

Spinning him, I slap his jean-clad ass cheek.

“Get your ass upstairs.” I don’t wait, though, pinning an arm behind him, frog-marching him through the kitchen, and toward my apartment.

Inside, I slam him against the wall, cactusing his arms, threading my fingers through his. He’s soft and pliant for me, waiting to see what I’ll do. His bottom lip quivers. Is he scared that I will or scared that I won’t?

“Please,” he breathes. “I can’t take the wanting anymore, Trav.”

Neither can I.

I cover his mouth with mine. Travis, the nice man who saves tired honeybees, ceases to exist. I’m all animal, all desire. He never should have fucking tempted me with that mouth, with his pleas. And oh my fucking god. His taste. It’s better than I imagined, and I imagined it a lot. I’m instantly addicted, and I need more, more. Mmmmm.

Shoving my tongue into his mouth isn’t nice, it’s my way of saying, “I own the place, and you’d better fucking know it”. He pants, only just able to get a scant bit of oxygen.