Page 50 of Forbidden Hockey

“That’s right, pretty boy. This is what it’s like to be owned by me. You get the air I let you have.”

I twist his face away, exposing his neck, scraping my teeth over the pulsing veins. His skin. Salty and clean. Fucking delectable.

“T-Trav,” he moans.

My name on his lips like that. It’s hot lightning over my skin.

Licking the flat side of my tongue up his neck, I make my way back to his mouth again. “Take a breath, baby.”

He’s almost not quick enough, but youth and athleticism are on his side. At least he’s a fast learner. He knows what’s coming.

This time, my kiss is deep and sensual. I slide a hand over the bulge in his crotch, pulling a moan straight into my mouth. I refuse to let him go yet.

When I let him up for air this time, he’s gasping, sucking, wheezing. “Slow,” I instruct. “There you go. Good boy.”

“Th-That’s a rush,” he says, finally having found enough breath to speak. “How the fuck are you able to do that?”

“Swimming. Maybe you should join me at the pool, eh?” I don’t know if that’s gonna be a possibility for us, but it’s a nice fantasy. I’m no Michael Phelps, but I like to use it to keep in shape. Some people jog five kilometers, I swim.

“I could be persuaded, or you could just keep making me drown.”

“Sounds good to me.” I take him under a few more times, until he’s screaming in my mouth and clawing at me for air, until he’s a tad light-headed, and I have to steady him.

He sags against me. “D-Don’t know why you thought your age was gonna be a factor. I might be the one struggling to keep up with you.”

Not gonna happen. I have both eyes on him. Always. There’s nowhere safer than under my watch. Time to get him somewhere comfortable. I lead him to my couch, and it’s the first time I wish I had a nicer one. It’s a sturdy, well-built brownleather sofa, soft but masculine. I paid a mint for it, but I’ve had it so long it’s worn and faded.

His heavy limbs hang, and a lazy smile spreads across his face as I push him down.

“Thought you said you were gonna punish me?”

“Is that a dare, pretty boy? You don’t need to dare me to do that.” I go for the button of his jeans. His eyes pop wide and his brows climb his forehead. “Lift.”

I make him lift his hips so I can tug his jeans down, but I leave his boxers as they are. There’s a nice wet spot forming in front.

“Look how hard you are for me, pretty boy.”

He flushes again. I’ll never get tired of that.

“I ache, Trav. Please. Touch me. Do something. I’m willing to sell my soul right now.”

I give him what he wants, running a hand over the hard cock beneath the cotton. He exhales long and slow as if breathing too hard will scare me away. But it’s too late for him now. I’ve tasted him, and no other flavor will satisfy me.

I knew it would be that way. It’s why I kept my distance.

“I’m gonna make you cry, Dirk.”

“Sure, Trav.”

“Cocky little shit.”

Any mercy I was gonna give him, just went up in smoke. I make myself comfortable between his legs, on my knees, on the floor.

“Rules,” I say. “First, hands where I can see ‘em. On top of the sofa.”

He complies, waggling his brows. “Kinky.”

Dirk doesn’t know the half of it. “If you move them, I stop. If you come before I say you can, the next time I make you come will mark the beginning of a new Jurassic period.”