Egotistical Puckboy (Puckboys Book 1)

THE ANNOYING, obnoxious sound of the oven timer going off destroys my bliss.

We’re on the couch, and Anton is on top of me with my cock still in his ass. He’s slumped on my chest, breathing heavily as we both come down from killer orgasms. It would be perfect if it weren’t for the damn kitchen noises.

“Make it stop,” I whine.

Anton goes to move, but I grip his hips.

“No, don’t leave.”

He laughs. “Which do you want? For the noise to stop or to stay buried in my ass. You can’t have both.”

“Fine.” I release him.

He eases off my dick and stands. Fuck, I want to lick his cum-covered abs. I sit up and lean forward to do just that, but he steps away.

“You want the noise to stop or not?”

“What noise?”

It’s all but forgotten when Anton’s perfect body is naked in front of me.

He picks up his shirt and wipes himself down. “You go deal with the condom. I’ll deal with lunch.”

“Best Thanksgiving ever. Sex and food? You’re spoiling me.”

“Don’t forget the parade.” He points toward the TV and finally—finally—hits the button on the oven to turn off the noise.

I stand and deal with the condom, ditching it in the trash. “Eh, I could take or leave that. It’s how we ended up fucking before lunch in the first place. Pure boredom.”

“Wow. Here I was thinking I’m so irresistible you couldn’t help it, but good to know it was to cure your boredom. Noted.”

I step up behind him where he’s pulling plates off a shelf. His ass is round and delectable, all the muscles in his back taut and contracting. “Your irresistibility is a given.”

I kiss the back of his neck, and he leans forward and grips the counter, pushing his ass back against my cock. It goes from spent to a semi instantly.

“Mm,” I hum against his skin. “Someone isn’t done with me.”

“I can’t help it. I’m bored.”

I chuckle. “I’m not going to live that one down, am I?”

“Nope. You’ll be paying for it for a while.” Anton grinds his ass against me, and my eyes roll back into my head.

“You feel so good.”

“I’m still prepped. Do it.”

“You sure you’re ready to go again already?”

“We have a game tomorrow. If we don’t have all the sex now, we’ll lose.”

“You’re the one who said I can’t stay over tonight.” Fully hard now, I run my cock down his ass crack. “Look who’s suddenly superstitious.”

“Not superstitious,” he breathes. “I just know how to play you.”

Yeah, he really does. But it’s not my superstitions making me want to sink inside him again. It’s him. All him.

I still haven’t worked out how to deal with those thoughts yet, but I figure I don’t need to either. When the tabloids ran with news of our dance together, instead of getting tense or annoyed, Anton has shrugged and said at least their stories were close this time.

Anton and I are together in most senses of the word. We’re sleeping together, we’re exclusive, we’re … fuck, I don’t know what we are, but as he reaches behind him to grip my cock and press it against his hole, I don’t care.

“Condom,” I murmur and try to step away.

The hand not guiding me to his entrance wraps around to grip my ass and push me inside him just a little.

“Anton …” I warn. This is his rule.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I trust you.”

I don’t question it, even though I should, and when I sink inside him completely, the tight heat of his body with nothing between us sends ripples of pleasure crackling along my skin.

I literally came not that long ago, so I thought round two would be long and drawn out, but the way he takes me, the grip his ass has on my cock, I worry my only issue will be getting Anton off again fast enough.

I slowly move in and out of him, enjoying every thrust, every second of having him like this.

“Harder,” Anton says.

“I can’t,” I grit out.

“Yes, you can.” He takes things into his own hands and thrusts backward.

“Fuck,” I pant.

“That’s the point.” Anton drops his head.

The pressure surrounding my cock makes my brain fuzzy and my control slip. I give him what he wants, but that only gets me closer to the edge. After only a minute or so, I have to slow down again.

“Are you trying to torture me?” he asks.

“I’m trying not to come until you do.”

“How can I come when you won’t fuck me harder?”

“Maybe if I can get you close enough …” I reach around him and take his heavy cock in one hand while the other pulls on his balls.

Fucking him while giving the best handjob of my life? It’s awkward, but hey, I’m good at multitasking. Having to focus so hard on what I’m doing brings me back from the edge too.

Anton’s breaths come in short gasps. I fuck him as hard and wild as I can, using my hand that’s jerking him off to steady my thrusts.

We both hold out, our orgasms from before making us last longer than I thought I could. But when Anton stiffens and warm cum hits my hand, I take my opportunity to let go for real.

I release him and grip his hips hard, pounding into him. He calls out because I’m hitting his prostate over and over, and I can only imagine the sweet torture his sore and wrecked ass is giving him right now.

“Ez,” he whines. “Come. Come inside me.”

I unleash, possibly coming even harder than I did before on the couch. Before, it was Anton riding me, so he was the one in control. Here, it was all me, and I might not need it all the time, but when I do get it? It heightens everything, and I love it.

But when I pull out of him and my cum dribbles from his hole and all over his ass and thighs, the weight of the condom issue hits me again.

I should have questioned it more.

What if it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, and now he regrets it? What if I’m reading into it?

Anton looks at me over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Dead. I’m dead.” My voice is croaky and shaky.

Anton laughs. “Me too. I’m also really hungry. I should get back to the food.”

“You mind if I jump in the shower real quick?”

“Go for it. The food will be out when you’re done.”

I shower quickly because I don’t want to give Anton too much time to overthink it like I am, and when I get out and wander into the living room, where we ditched our clothes earlier, Anton’s got his jeans back on but is still shirtless.

He moves about his kitchen, putting everything together. He bought turkey pieces instead of a whole one seeing as it’s just us, but he made stuffing to go on top, despite my argument that it’s called stuffing because you’re supposed to stuff the turkey with it. He also has cranberry sauce, vegetables …

“I had no idea you could cook. Whenever I’ve been here, we’ve gotten takeout.”

“That’s because we’re both lazy asses.”

I snap my fingers. “Oh right. That.”

Anton smiles. “I don’t mind cooking, but I hate the cleanup afterward. I don’t have time or effort for that shit.”

“Well, seeing as you cooked, I promise I’ll clean after we’re done.”

“In everything we do?” Anton waggles his eyebrows.

“You want to go again? My dick is honestly asking for a time-out.”

“No. I’m too hungry to go again. But later. You know … for the team.”

My heart twinges. “Right. The team.”

I stand awkwardly while I wait for him to plate up the food. I would offer to help, but I’m too busy trying to assess where his head is at and if he’s okay.

Going bareback isn’t something to freak out about, especially considering I’m on PrEP. I have no idea of his status, but if he hasn’t lied about being exclusive, and we’ve had full medicals since we first made the agreement, I figure I should be okay. But from the beginning, Anton was adamant, and I worry he’s regretting it.

Though, he shows no signs of regret. He’s his usual self.

Even when he brings me my plate where I’m standing, he hands it to me with a soft kiss on my lips.

“Go sit in front of the TV,” he says and swats at my ass.

I take my spot on the floor next to the coffee table, still refusing to stain his couches with my messy eating. Apparently, I have different standards when it comes to sex.

I stare at the couch, thinking about how watching the parade led to getting naked on it. It was Anton who disappeared, saying he’d be right back, and then the next minute he was on top of me. He brought out the supplies. Including the condom.

“You okay?” Anton asks as he takes his seat on the other couch.

“Yeah. Just … thinking.”

“About?” He shoves some mashed potato in his mouth.

“Why you were suddenly so willing to go without a condom.”

Anton chokes on his food, coughing and spluttering. “Blunt, but umm, okay.” He thinks for a second. “It felt right in the moment.”

“You’re not freaking out and regretting it now? I should’ve gotten one. I know your rules, and—”

“I wasn’t freaking out about it, but it seems you are.”

“No, I …” Is it stupid to read so much into one teeny-tiny thing I’ve never thought was a big deal? There’s a voice screaming in my head, one that’s been nagging for weeks since Westly put it there. The one asking what does it all mean?

“You what?”

“Never mind. I didn’t want you to think I took advantage.”

Anton levels me with his dark stare. “Ez. If I didn’t want to do something, you know I wouldn’t. You don’t have that much of an effect on me.”

I can’t help smirking. “Uh-huh. That’s how I got you to fuck me when you despised me.”

“I always wanted to fuck you. Though, in my fantasies, you were wearing a ball gag.”

“That checks out.”

He’s still watching me, and I squirm a little at how intense his gaze is. “Come here.”

I hesitate, then push onto my knees, and he pulls me between his thighs.

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Caring about whether I was worried or not. But I’m not. At all. I think I’ve caught an illness where you’re concerned, and it’s affecting my decision-making abilities.”

I have a lump in my throat as I ask, “I’m guessing you don’t mean chlamydia?”

Anton drops his forehead to mine. “I trust you, Ez.”

That about does me in. Trust is a big thing, especially from someone like Anton who doesn’t do it easily. I’m not sure if I’m worthy of it, but I want to be.

I kiss him softly. “Here’s hoping you don’t regret that.”

“I’m confident.” He kisses me once more before letting me go.

I turn and drop back onto my spot on the floor. “Does that mean … Can we ditch them altogether now?”

“Damn straight. I want to know what it feels like to be inside you with nothing between us.”

“Okay. Good to know.”

He points at my food. “Now we’ve gotten that out of the way, eat. Your food is getting cold.”

“Yes, Mom.”

As if perfectly timed, Anton’s phone lights up on the coffee table.

“Speaking of moms, yours is trying to call.”

He quickly reaches for it to answer. “Hey, Mom. Happy Thanksgiving to you too. And you, Dad.” He pauses for whatever they say and follows it up with “All good here. I have a teammate over, and we’re having a quiet one.” He continues to talk to her while I stare at the blank screen on my phone.

I don’t expect my dad to call, and my mom hasn’t invited me to her place for Thanksgiving in years. She has a new husband, new kids … Still, it would be nice if one of them picked up their phone to call me.

“Sorry,” Anton says when he finishes up.

“It’s fine. You have parents who obviously care.”

His lips flatten into a thin line. “You said your dad doesn’t do Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah. I’m not expecting anything from him. Or my mom. It’s fine. I’ve never been their priority.”

“It’s okay to still want them to make an effort though.”

“Nah, only a dumbass would still want it.”

“Well, you are you, so like you said, it checks out.” He leans back and sips his drink smugly.

“Stop showering me with all this affection and sweet words. You will spoil me for other men,” I deadpan.

“You’re welcome.”

“How do you think we’ll play tomorrow after eating all this food?” I point to my plate.

“Sluggish. But hey, the other team will be full of turkey too, so it’ll all even out. And if we get in another orgasm tonight, there’s no way we can lose. Our streak is still hot.”

“Better do it soon since apparently I can’t stay over.”

He clears his throat and leans forward to place his glass on the table. “About that.”

Ooh, I don’t like that tone. “What?”

“Maybe I do want you to stay over.”

“O … kay?”

“But I want you to do something with me first.”

He sounds uncharacteristically serious, and when he shifts, linking his fingers together and releasing them, I bite back my response of Sacrifice to the hockey gods? and wait.

“On the afternoons we’re home and I’m not with you, I spend a lot of time volunteering. No one knows. Not my agent, not our PR team, sometimes not even the charities I’m there for because I don’t give my real name. I do it for me because I think it’s important to give back.”

I narrow my eyes. “No one’s noticed you?”

“One of the soup kitchens I go to frequently knows who I am, but they respect my privacy. It’s not something I want the media getting wind of and making into a big deal.”

Wow. I know Anton is always going on about his privacy, but I know a lot of guys who volunteer or give money, and even when they do it privately or anonymously, it always gets out. Everyone loves recognition.

Then it hits me what’s happening here. “You’re telling me.”

“Yes.”

“When no one else knows?”

“Correct.”

Something warm creeps through my chest, making me smile.

“I want you to come with me today,” he says.

The smile drops right off my face. “If this is another animal shelter …”

Anton laughs loud and uninhibited. “I promise it’s not. I’ve actually filled my trunk with donations, and I was going to take it to a soup kitchen I help at and drop it all off. We’ll stay and help cook everything and get it set up, then the other volunteers will take over to do the actual serving.”

It’s not how I wanted to spend my afternoon, but I’m interested.

“You don’t have to,” he rushes to say. “No obligation, I just thought …”

“Yeah?”

He clears his throat. “I thought it might be nice for us to do together.”

“You’re on.”

And it’s hard to imagine that spending an afternoon with Anton where we play delivery driver and then cart boxes back and forth before joining a production line of people preparing food could be fun, but when we get back to his place and climb into bed, I’m hit with the strangest thought: there was nowhere else I’d rather be today.

Anton wraps his arms around me and yawns widely. “You did good today.”

“Thanks.”

“Now go to sleep. We have a game to win tomorrow.”

“There you go trying to jinx us again.”

“Please. It’s Buffalo. We have nothing to worry about.”

It’s true we’ve been kicking ass. We haven’t lost a game since Anton and I started sleeping together regularly. We’re high on the leaderboard and should easily skate into the playoffs at this rate.

But like all good players, I’m not delusional.

Hot streaks always end. It’s only a matter of when and how we bounce back.