Page 80 of Forbidden Hockey

“Trav.” Asshole.

“Can’t help it. You are.”

My other cheeks heat, the ones on my face. Pretty. Him calling me pretty does something to me. Most of me isn’t what you’d call pretty, but it’s my fucking eyes. I have feminine eyes because of my damn lashes. It doesn’t help that the irises are bright fucking blue. Okay, maybe my lips are plump for a dude, and they’re kinda pouty for one too, but that’s it. The rest of me’s so damn masculine that no one but an alpha male like Trav would dare call me pretty.

He crowds me from behind. “I wanna defile that pretty face. God, I wanna do the dirtiest things to you, Dirk. Your brother should beat the shit outta me for my thoughts alone.”

I groan. “Don’t talk about my brother when we’re about to fuck.”

“Get these wet,” he says. Without much warning than that, two beer-flavored fingers shove into my mouth. I gag around them, but I refuse to let them leave my mouth before they’re good and wet. I know where they’re going, and I wanna do a good job for him.

The length of his thick cock presses between my cheeks. I want it in me so bad.

“That’s it, pretty boy. Suck.”

Pretty boy.Fucking hell, Trav.I burn hot with humiliation. Sweet, sweet humiliation. He’s the only one who gets to call me pretty boy. If anyone else does, they’re getting their teeth knocked out.

A callused hand—one of the ones I’ve been fucking dreaming about—wraps around my cock. But not for pleasure. To trap me there. Control me.

“You think I like having to watch other men make eyes at you?” He fucks my mouth with his fingers. I take it, moaning around them. The question’s rhetorical anyway. “If only they could see you now, taking what I give you, being so pretty for me.”

God. Fuck. Jesus fuck.

They might as well be in the room with us. It’s as if their eyes are burning into me as they watch me debasing myself for Travis. Fuck, I’d like that. Love that. Travis making me do humiliating shit in front of people. Wonder if he’d do it? He’s possessive as fuck, so I doubt it, but it’s a nice fantasy.

He pulls his fingers outta my mouth, a string of saliva’s all that connects them to my lips now.

“You only do this for me, don’t you, pretty boy?”

“Only you.”

“I don’t share,” he says as if I didn’t already know that, poking those wet fingers at my ass. “Spread. Wider for me, baby. That’s it.”

I’m on fire. Literal fire.

I can only spread so far with the boxers still trapping my legs, but he’s not gonna accept that as an excuse. I widen my stance as much as I can, straining the elastic.

The first round is a smooth twist into me, shallow but firm. The second is a sinful shove. Deep. Hitting my prostate like an exploding firecracker.

“You gonna be good for me if I fuck you?”

“Fuck. Yes,” I say, breathless. “Goddammit, Trav. I’ll be go-good. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”

I’m already about to cry, and he’s barely done anything. His fingers pick up the pace, fucking into me with wild abandon, getting me ready for his cock.

“But see, we have a problem. I?—”

“Trav,” I complain. I’m beyond horny. If he doesn’t fuck me soon, I might die.

He drops my cock to smack my ass. “When I talk, you listen, understood?”

I swallow. “Y-Yes.”

His hand grips my cock again. I like it there. Warm and trapped. “I don’t know what the fuck it is about you, but I don’t want to simply have you. I want to own you. Everything. This ass, your cock, every orgasm you’ll ever have. It’s … terrifying.”

“Please. I w-want that.Please.” If he’s as fucking clueless as the rest of our crew, I’m gonna rectify that immediately. I know I come off as a fucking force to the guys—because I am—but that’s not what I’d want to be for Trav. Not exactly. I’d love to give myself to him. I have already. Doesn’t he see that? Maybe other men look at me, but I’m not looking at them.

That’s all the words I have left. His fingers pull the dirtiest whimpers from me. I slap my hand against the wall over and over. As much as I love what he’s doing, I want him to fill me with that big dick of his. But I’ve gotten the message loud and clear: I’m not in charge; he is, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I let my forehead fall against the wall, taking what he gives me like a good fucking boy.