Page 15

Fourteen

Ryder

F ucking Lilah. Photos of me at the drag brunch ended up online, and hockey social media accounts have gotten hold of them. Pictures of me shaking my ass onstage with a purple feather boa. Flashing my abs and flexing my arms. Shots of me dipping a drag queen. Images of me and Knox in conversation at our table. The headlines come in fast and hot, and my phone pings with notifications whenever something new attached to my name or tagging me on socials is posted.

Unlikely bromance hard launched at Drag Brunch checks the hockey world into the boards.

Hydra' s goalie gets wild onstage with drag queens after a viral homophobic rant.

Kingston’s unexpected friendship with NFL star thrust him into the spotlight, leaving us nearly as surprised as seeing him thrust his hips onstage at a recent Drag Brunch.

Publicity stunt to rehabilitate problematic goalie’s image, or a fun outing with friends? The Atlanta Hydras’ goalie Ryder Kingston spotted with NFL star and unknown woman at a bawdy Drag Brunch.

I shoot off a text before I finally turn off my social media notifications and flip my phone over. I’m annoyed as hell about this, and Knox needs to know the kind of company he’s keeping so he doesn't trust her with anything important, like who he wants to fuck.

Ryder: Lilah is a bitch. She released those photos of me she promised would be kept between us, and now I’m back in the headlines, and sports socials are blowing up with our “adventures.” Send her my biggest thanks and both middle fingers.

I’m not even home to tell Knox to his face that he has terrible taste in friends. I’ve been on this ten-day road trip that feels like it’ll never end, hitting Philadelphia and Pittsburgh before playing Boston. We won against Philadelphia, but Pittsburgh gave us a run for our money, and we lost that one admirably. Tomorrow, we head to Boston for our last game. It will be incredibly weird to play my former team. To see the uniform I wore for years and not be in it. To be in the arena that felt like home and skate onto the ice from the visitors' entrance. To have the fans booing me when I make a save rather than celebrating.

To deal with the stress, I did something I promised myself I’d never do again—download the Vers app and log in for the first time in years. Guilt washes over me now as I scroll through the profiles of faceless men in various states of undress, looking for someone to have a virtual hookup with.

I’ve messed with the app a few times before and always told myself it was just for fun, to scratch an itch, and to get my ego stroked unconventionally. But this time, it feels different. I created a new account name, as I do each time I download the app. This time, I’m HotnHandsy, which kind of feels stupid, but I’d rather it be that than HockeyHottie or something that would link back to me. The profile photo I post is a standard tented sweats shot, so the viewer knows I’m hard, big, and leaving something to the imagination to get them to message me for more.

I stop my scrolling on a profile with a photo of the most delicious rich, light brown abs and a hand down low-slung gray sweatpants, showing off a veiny forearm corded with muscle, letting me know he’s fisting his cock in his pants. HandyManCan is the winner of my attention, hands down. I click and message him immediately.

HotnHandsy: Do you think we both have a hand kink, with usernames like ours? Only, your hands are suspiciously absent from your profile photo, and now I’m curious. Put my mind at ease and help me figure out if I have a thing for hands, or just for you.

I favorite his profile and back out because he doesn't have his online indicator turned on, so I don’t know if he’s available. While scrolling a few minutes later, still thinking of that hand hidden by his sweats and what he was gripping, I get a notification of a new message. I click my direct messages and see that HandyManCan has responded. Hell fucking yes. I’m unreasonably excited by the idea of chatting with him after his photo piqued my interest so thoroughly. I’ve found a lot of the guys on this app aren't great conversationalists, so I have a low bar, but I like to talk as much as I like to fuck, and it would be nice if I found someone who held my interest longer than it took to get off.

HandyManCan: That’s too funny. I’ve never considered a hand kink. Total coincidence. Unless…you want to test your theory? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, and we’ll see if they do an ything for us.

He sent me a photo, too. It’s taken from chest level, showing an open lavender button-down shirt, highlighting that heavily muscled torso. He’s wearing silver-gray suit pants, undone, with a black leather belt unbuckled. Maybe he’s a businessman of some sort if he’s wearing dress clothes. One hand rests so he’s perfectly highlighting his cum gutter—the V cut of his abs leading to his cock—and it looks entirely too lickable and just right for spilling a load onto. He has perfect hands. Broad palm, long fingers, short-cut nails, and a hint of calluses from what I can make out without seeing the other side of his hand. Never have I loved a photo of a hand more. Maybe it’s just him because his hands are doing things to me that no one else’s ever have.

I’m in my hotel room, already stripped down to my boxer briefs and sporting a semi from this brief interaction alone. The illicitness of this conversation has me breathing heavily, my heart racing with the adrenaline rush of acting on something forbidden, something that I’ve always said wasn’t for me. Yet here I am, obviously getting a thrill from this, so something has to be up with me.

I casually rest a hand on my lower abs, fingers playing with the waistband of my briefs, and snap a photo that I send over with my next message.

HotnHandsy: That’ll do it. Can confirm that maybe I have a little bit of a hand kink. Or maybe I just like how you set up the shot and want to see more.

I’m brazen, but holding back from sending a dick pic or asking for nudes. I can be crass, but I know I need to approach this slowly and feel out HandyManCan so I know he’s worthy of my attention and body. I want to get off, but only with someone who deserves it. Maybe that’s a convoluted way of thinking since I’ll take home any pretty female face who’s down to fuck, yet I want my virtual male hookup to earn it. I’ll let someone else unpack that. Right now, I have a hot set of abs and a hand I want wrapped around my cock writing back.

HandyManCan: Well fuck me, look at that, my pants fell off and I do have a thing for your hands after all. Are you gonna show me what that hand can do?

The attached photo is of his now shirtless, pantsless body stretched out, one knee bent up and his hand pushing down his briefs so he can grip the base of his—holy shit, that is the most flawless cock I’ve ever seen. Thick, long, a perfect, deep shade of tan, and veined so prettily I’d get on my knees and lick each one. And fuck, he’s manscaped, his dark hair neatly trimmed and just enough to lead up his stomach in a trail I’d like to explore more. I’ve been with so many women over the years who are shaved or waxed bare. It’s nice to see a little something natural to remind me I’m dealing with a man, and damn, do I like the distinction.

I groan as I push down my briefs and free my cock that is straining, precum already weeping from the ruddy tip, with how excited I am about this. I’m an equal-opportunity attention whore, but this feels different. It’s something I keep for myself, and giving in to the temptation feels like a relief and a line I’m crossing at the same time. I spread the precum with my thumb, holding my shaft tight up near the head, and take a photo that I send over to HandyManCan.

HotnHandsy: Look what you’re doing to me, big sexy. I’m weeping for that fat cock of yours. If you were here, I’d wrap my hand around us both, squeeze, and ever so slowly jack you off against me until your knees gave out and you were begging me to come. I bet you beg so pretty. Now, tell me what you want, and say please.

I’m typing one-handed as I stroke myself as slowly as I promised him I would. My body shudders under my own touch as I imagine his big, callused palm sliding over me instead. I don't have to wait long for a response, and it has me stopping my strokes to squeeze hard, so I don’t shoot my load onto my stomach immediately at how fucking sexy it is and how it about ends me.

HandyManCan: You got me so twisted. I hate to say it, but I’m about to come right now with how fucking hot it is that you described a top-three fantasy for me right out of the gate. I can usually last longer, I swear, but your mouth is so damn sexy. All I want is to see you come for me, please, baby.

It’s the baby that sends me over the edge, and I’m clenching my abs, thinking of the way my hockey gear smells, and running through visual warm-up drills to keep myself in check. I hit the video chat button so fast you’d think it was on the cusp of disappearing and don’t give it a second thought. Normally, I’m a photos-only chatter, worried something about me will be too identifiable, but this man can have anything he wants, including watching me come apart to his words. The best part of this app is the fact that the selfie camera is disabled, so I’d have to turn my phone completely around to show off my face, which gives me some semblance of safety.

The video connects and I get an even better view of his cock as he shuttles his fist up the incredible length of it, and my cock jerks in response. So worth the video call.

“Oh, thank fuck you answered,” I breathe, my voice pitched lower and coarser than I typically speak to help disguise my identity, not that I imagine a hockey fan will stumble across my profile, but stranger things have happened.

“You fucking beautiful thing,” he says, his voice deep and rumbling, sending a shiver of longing straight to my balls. “How could I resist when I’m already about to come from your tempting photos? I had to see the real thing before I blow.”

Oh shit. I really like being his beautiful thing. “Do you see what you’re doing to me?” I ask raggedly, as liquid arousal leaks slowly from my tip and I groan with how close I am. “Fuck, I need you to clean this up with that sinful-sounding mouth so I can give you what you’ve earned.”

“Jesus. Fuck,” he mutters. His fist closes tighter as he angles his cock toward his phone so I get the prettiest view of drops of precum beading at the slit. His monster cock is uncut, and the mental images I get of pressing the head of my dick to his and sliding his foreskin over us both as I jack us off has me clutching the phone hard enough to crack the plastic. I’m valiantly holding back my orgasm that is barreling down on me, the pressure building at the base of my spine. I don’t have long.

“Call me baby when you come and let it pool on your stomach. I want to see you fall apart for me,” I growl, getting bossy and loving the goosebumps that rise on his skin beneath the sheen of sweat that has him glowing in the dim light of his room. I just know he wants to be told what to do.

“Baby,” he groans, the word stretched and low, the sound hitting me right in the balls as his fist moves faster. “Oh, fuck, baby, I can’t stop. I’m coming for you.” He grunts, the sound far sexier than I could have imagined as he jerks his release onto his stomach just like I demanded.

“You're such a good boy for me,” I grit out as I finally give in to the need to let go. “Ahh, fuck,” I moan, coming when I see his spill hit his skin.

Our hands harmonize, moving in tandem as we both milk the last of the cum out onto our stomachs. I watch in awe as his pearly release shines against his skin while his abs rise and fall with breaths that sync with my own. I’m lost to the sight, speechless, feeling way more about the intimate moment than I’m sure anyone should with a faceless hookup app. Finding my voice, I can’t stop the words that fall from my mouth.

“You…” I croak, my voice broken from the viciousness of my orgasm that strained my entire body with the force. “Are so fucking sexy.”

“That was…so good,” he says, equally breathless. “Where the hell did you come from? How do I get one of you in real life?”

My drained cock jumps at his praise as hot pride fills my chest. “I’m right here, and you can have me whenever you want to fuck your fist for me.”

Part of me is stuck on the real-life piece of his question. Could I actually do this? It’s one thing to open an app and jack off to a dude, but to live out these fantasies with a man isn’t something I’ve wanted to make happen…until now. That makes this itch, my dirty little secret, real .

Every time I’ve downloaded the Vers app and acted on the urge to connect with a dude, I’ve exited immediately and felt like shit. I’ve always been disgusted by these desires, ashamed that I could even entertain the idea of finding a man attractive or wanting to do more than look at one from afar, especially after what people said about me in high school and how I turned that back on Knox.

Knox . I’ve been so horrible to him for something he’s incapable of changing and is more honest about than I am when it comes to what I want. I don't know how to undo the past. I don't even know how to bridge the gap between how I treated him back then, and why I have some not quite platonic thoughts and the desire to touch him now.

My mind is reeling from my orgasm and thinking about Knox. The two things had never crossed previously, but now that they have, I can’t untangle them. The morning Knox found a naked woman in his kitchen, I’d gotten hard and rubbed my cock on him, needing him to know he’d done that to me even as I grappled with the incomprehensible realization that I wanted to touch him. He told me to fix this and wanted me to fuck the girl I’d brought home. He thought I was just generally horny, but it wasn’t her I was thinking about. I answered that I didn’t know how to fix it because all that was in my head right then was what I wanted to do to him , no matter what I told myself at the moment.

I can't fucking fix this. I'm obviously broken. I’ve always been better at wrecking things than fixing them. His statement hit me in waves, the full weight of it crashing against me over and over. That day at drag brunch, I realized I needed to make things right, but I had no idea how, and I still don’t.

“You ever hurt someone you love and not know how to fix it?” I ask absently, letting my mouth wander along with my thoughts.

“I’ve been hurt by someone I loved,” he answers solemnly, voice quiet and so honest I feel more naked now than I have since we started chatting.

When I look back at the screen, his fingers are absently tracing along his oblique, and fuck, I want to be the one touching him. Wanting my fingers dipping along his muscles, pressing into his smooth skin and hard flesh beneath. I don't think of myself as a cuddler, preferring my space, but I have the insistent ache to roll this man to his side, slide up behind him, my cock nestled between his ass cheeks where he can keep me warm, wrap my arm around his waist, and pull him into me. I want to hold him for meeting me with his vulnerability when I said something off the cuff. Maybe I can't hold him physically, but I can share more of myself with him for the connection.

“I have this friend. I fucked things up a long time ago and we never got past it. I never thought I’d get a chance to make it right, but work brought us together, and now I have to live with what I did in my face all the time. There’s this canyon between who we are now and the friends we used to be, and it hurts to look back over that split in the earth and know it didn’t have to be there, but I caused it,” I admit. This is the first time I’ve said this out loud, and it feels good to get it off my chest, even to a stranger.

His hand slows as he reaches the cum on his belly. He passes a finger through the mess, and I shudder. I mimic his movements and imagine he’s touching me.

“Who says you can’t get past it if you’re both willing? Actions speak louder than words, so you could show them you’re sorry.” He’s silent as he waits for my response.

“I’m not sure they’re willing. I messed up badly. They don’t owe me anything, so it’s not right to even ask for their forgiveness. Wow, that’s way more honest than I wanted to get after coming harder than I have in years. You got me all sentimental with that orgasm,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood I’ve unintentionally dragged down with my morose topics.

“You’re not cheating on anyone right now, are you? No one thinks they’re in a relationship with you and would be hurt if they knew you just jacked off with a stranger on the internet?” he asks, his voice growing distant. I guess he has his own serious questions weighing on him.

I snort, grateful for a simple question I can answer honestly. “No, I’m definitely single. This was fun and also nice. Thanks for listening to me when you could have just disconnected after getting off.”

He chuckles a humorless sound. “That’s not how I roll, baby. I’m looking for more than most use this app for, I guess.”

Baby. Damn, he knows exactly how to send chills racing down my spine and turn me to mush with one word. I decide I’m keeping him. “I want to do this again with you.”

“I’d like that.” He sounds almost shy, and I can’t imagine why this big, cocksure man would get shy for me, but I fucking love it.

“You better favorite my profile and put on a notification for me, Big Sexy. I want you shaking for me when I see you again.” It’s too easy to slip into a commanding role and push him now, after seeing his reaction to my bossiness earlier.

But what if he doesn’t like a pushy man? He’s big, with alpha energy, and clearly fueled by testosterone and a love of working out, which can be hard to come by. He could have been turned off by this and only let it slide at the moment because he was horny and wanted to get off more than he wanted to correct me.

“Already did, baby. I’ll be fucking my hand thinking of you every day until I catch you next. You can believe I’ll be a pathetic mess needing you to make me come that hard again.”

Oh fuck, that’s music to my ears. He’s so perfect. “That’s my good boy.” He sighs in appreciation, and I smile, liking this little exchange we’ve established with the short online tryst.

When I exit the app a few minutes later, I have a text waiting from Knox.

Knox: Fuck you. Lilah said she didn't post any photos. Those were from other people at brunch. You have to deal with the fact that you were seen shaking your ass on stage with drag queens and you were having fun. It's not a crime.

I breathe out a huge sigh. He’s right. I did have fun, and even if people are speculating about it, it’s not something I have to be ashamed of. I type back a text.

Ryder: Fine. Maybe she didn’t post the photos, but if I find out she’s sharing any of them, her forgiven privileges are revoked.

Now I have to clean myself up and think about why a faceless man on an app was able to get me off quicker than anyone has in years, and I wanted to spill my guts to him immediately after in some kind of awkward pillow talk.