Page 59 of One-Time Shot

“I should go,” the guy with his aching cock saluting the ceiling said.

Malcolm hopped up, held his hand out, and wordlessly led me to his room. I noticed a lot of plants and books stacked into mini towers on a desk and in the corners. After that, everything got fuzzy.

We were good at this now. This give-and-take, push and pull. I knew his body well and I knew how to make him wild—my stubbled jaw rubbed on his inner thigh, my tongue on his balls, two fingers in his ass. He loved the burn.

Our eyes locked as I stretched him open, driving my cock deep inside Malcolm. He loved being on his back, his legs wide, his hands all over me…tweaking my nipples and raking patterns along my sides.

And me? I loved everything about this. About him. From his glasses, freckles, and pretty mouth to his smooth skin, slim body, and the feel of his thick shaft wet with precum between us.

I folded him in half, his legs on my shoulders, as I upped the tempo, holding his hands and fucking him into the mattress.

This was where I’d praise his tight hole, graphically narrating my every move with F bombs galore…I’m fucking you so hard, baby. You want my fucking cum in your sweet ass, don’t you?

Not tonight.

The things in my head were sappy as shit.I like this, I like us, I want this, I want you, I need…I love?—

I came without warning, shivering through a mega orgasm, showering his face with kisses until he joined me.

Not gonna lie, I was mildly freaked out by the well of emotion that clung to me after we cleaned up and said good night.

My mind whirled on my walk home, replaying my day and reassembling puzzle pieces of my life. What if you kept moving, but you changed direction? What if you took someone with you? Would that future work? Would he want it too?

I stood on the path outside my building and shook the cobwebs clear, shocked by the strange turn my thoughts had taken. It was one thing to enjoy great sex with someone you liked and admired and something else to wish you could have him for the rest of your life.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Like it or not, this wasn’t forever.

* * *

My agent left a message three weeks later.

“I have an offer for you…ECHL. One year contract with the Syracuse Spiders, and on to the AHL, baby. Obviously, that’s not a guarantee, but hey, this is a good team and a great opportunity. Call me, Jett. Things are looking up!”

CHAPTER20

MALCOLM

My jobas a teaching assistant required me to track records, review assignments, and occasionally step in for the professor. I TA’d for Professors Finkwell and Higgins on top of my graduate studies, which was…a lot. I liked being busy, though, and I loved working with undergraduate students. Especially the curious ones.

“I was confused by the kinematic equation for displacement in the textbook example, but I think I get it now,” Professor Finkwell’s student gushed. I think her name was Sara or Tara. “Thank you, Mr. Maloney.”

I pushed my glasses to the bridge of my nose and smiled. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I was able to clear it up for you. Sometimes it’s just a matter of asking a question aloud.”

“That’s true. Do you mind if I ask another one?” The young woman pushed her long dark hair over her shoulder, her gaze turning suddenly earnest at my nod of consent. “Are you still tutoring Jett Erickson? I see you with him a lot and…I don’t know…it seems like you’re good…friends.”

I hadn’t expected that. My brows hit my hairline, and my glasses slipped again. It wasn’t as if no one had questioned our association, but it hadn’t happened in a while and not so suspiciously. She probably thought I had an inappropriate crush on Jett and if so, she was a hundred percent correct. The fact that it was mutual and that we were the sort of “friends” who shared itineraries would shock the heck out of her.

For example, I knew that within the hour Jett was due to hop on a bus for Granville to play his first game since his MRI. He was nervous and excited, and I wished I didn’t have to teach. I would have loved to be there cheering him on in the audience. And I think I could have persuaded Layla to join me.

Sidenote: Layla still didn’t know what to think about Jett and me. I’d confessed that I was hot for the hockey player after he’d shown up on our doorstep with soup. I’d also confessed that we had a mutually beneficial arrangement—top secret. She was probably worried about me harboring unrealistic hopes, but other than issuing a fiery threat to chop Jett’s balls off if he hurt me, she’d kept quiet. Remarkable, really.

“Oh, uh…we are friends. Mr. Erickson assisted me with research pertaining to my thesis. As you know, measuring angular momentum is pertinent to studying rotation, motion and—” I coughed, and made myself stop before the poor girl’s eyes popped out of her head. “Well, hockey is a popular sport.”

“For sure. And Jett’s cool…and popular. I’m just surprised…never mind.” She stepped aside with a wave at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Thanks again.”

Professor Finkwell waited for the classroom door to close. “And who is the popular Jett?”