Page 67 of Forbidden Hockey

“Travis!” he snapped as I pulled away from him, chuckling. I guessed I was in trouble, but I couldn’t have been in too much trouble because, later, he cornered me and kissed me till I unraveled. He doesn’t quite have the finesse to take my air like I can with him, but his kisses are the equivalent of stealing my soul and taking it with him.

My fingers trail over the buttons of his kitchen jacket, popping them open one at a time, revealing the creamy golden skin beneath. Dirk’s sporting a tan on his usually fair complexion, and it contours his muscles, making them stand out. I latch my mouth onto his nipple and suck.

He moans.

“Sensitive?”

“Apparently, for you they are.”

“Good answer.” I swirl my tongue around the raised nub, enjoying how much I’ve already got him falling into a heavy haze of arousal. His headthucksbackward against the wall, and he pants, whimpering sweetly.

“You’re gonna … gonna draw this out, aren’t you?”

“Why do you think I wanted you all to myself?” I say, voice low, predatory.

A suffering groan leaves his plump lips. Hmm, no. Cute, but not what I want tonight. I want him wrapped in my dark spell. I want him trembling, strung tight, clinging to me like his survival depends on it.

Tweaking his nipple with my fingers, I capture his cry with my mouth, and along with that, his breath. Then I kiss and kiss him, tangling his tongue with mine, stealing his oxygen until he has only enough to survive. His shaky writhing lets me know his need for air has become desperate. I let him take a little air but cut him off again with my mouth, always careful to give him enough, but only just enough.

He surrenders. There’s no beating me on my shoulder or struggling attempts to break free, just pure trust. When I finally release him, he blinks his pretty, dazed eyes. He’s dizzy, lightheaded.

Perfect.

“Alright, I’m fucking subdued, Trav, but not subdued enough not to beg you, so you can fuck right off if you think I won’t.”

I chuckle at his insolence, pushing his kitchen jacket off, leaving it on the living room floor, and dragging him toward my bedroom by the waistband of the black cotton kitchen pants. Inside, I turn on the light and smack his ass again—I hope that one leaves a print.

“Off.”

“Bossy fucker,” he mutters, but he slides out of the pants. With a downturn of my brow, I give a wordless order,the boxers go, too.

He’s naked perfection, even with a few scars on him from all the years of hockey. I have a nice side view of his body from this angle, which means I get to see the round swell of his ass, and yep, there’s a nice shade of pink there from my hand. His cock stands proud, jutting from his groin, the tip resting against his belly.

He bites his lip. “There’s that look again,” he says.

“What look?”

“Like you’re about to eat me.”

“I am about to eat you. Face down on the bed, pretty boy. Now.”

Dirk breaks out in a pink flush to compete with the color of his ass. “I’ve been … sweating all night, Trav.”

“Good. Now, you gonna do as you’re told?”

He smirks, lying on the bed face down, shoving his arms under the pillows, turning his head to the side.

“That’s better. I like an obedient boy.”

“Noted,” he says as if he doesn’t fucking know that.

I want to take my shirt off, so I can slide my bare skin across his, but he’ll feel my marks. I knew that he would eventually. He’s seen and come to know some of them, but my tattoos hide the large majority of what’s there.

He should know—if he wants to know.

Here we go.

Tugging at the hem, I pull the t-shirt over my head and toss it toward the hamper. I slide in toward him from the end of the bed, slipping my arms under his legs, spreading him wide for me. He’s got an incredible ass—big, round—attached to thick hockey thighs speckled with dark hair.