Egotistical Puckboy (Puckboys Book 1)

I TOLD myself I wouldn’t beg, and I hadn’t planned to, but that please fell out of my mouth without permission. I’m sure Anton’s going to use that one word against me for the rest of my life, and as much as I’d like to say using my manners doesn’t equate to begging, I can’t deny the desperate need in the way it came out.

Anton stares at me, and I hold my breath.

It’s a torturous two seconds before he wets his bottom lip and mutters, “My place. One hour.”

My lips curl, and I lower my voice. “Aww, you going to go home and get ready for me? Are we going to flip the other way this time?”

“Nope. I’m going out with O’Ryan for a drink. Maybe you should spend the next hour prepping that hole for me.” Anton walks away, and I have to reach into my pants and adjust myself before following.

I catch up to him. “Where are we getting that drink?”

“You want to come hang with the enemy?”

“Not the enemy yet. Regular season starts next week. Besides, if I’m there, I’m hoping we won’t make it an hour.”

I see it—Anton trying to contain his smile. He sucks at it.

“You’re going to be insufferable the whole night, aren’t you?”

“I’m so hard it’s uncomfortable.”

Anton glances at my crotch and then sighs as he takes out his phone.

“What are you doing?” I look over his shoulder and see he’s texting O’Ryan.

“Bailing on drinks.”

I tell myself not to be a smug bastard because at this point, anything could make Anton change his mind. “Uber?”

“I have my car. I went and picked it up during our downtime. Coach gave me permission to drive it up to Boston tomorrow instead of flying back with the team.” We head for the parking lot.

“You know, there are people you can pay to drive your car to Boston for you.”

“I don’t mind the drive. Besides, my Porsche is my baby.” He hits a key fob, and the lights of a Porsche Cayenne flash.

Sleek black, all the extras … it might not be the sexiest Porsche out there, but it’s still impressive.

I act unfazed. “Eh, my G-Wagon has more room. Your back seat doesn’t look spacious enough to do sex acrobatics.”

“We’re not teenagers. We’re not having sex in the back of a car.”

I tsk him. “Live a little. Spice it up.”

We drop our gear bags into the back seat, and they take up nearly the entire space.

“See? Not big enough.” I slide into the passenger seat, while he gets behind the wheel.

He turns to me. “Okay, if we’re doing this again, I think we need some rules.”

“I’m not good at those.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Hey, I only visited the sin bin once tonight, thank you very much.”

Anton slow claps. “How many times was I in there? Oh wait, none.”

“Of course Perfect Anton Hayes wouldn’t ever be caught dead in a sin bin. Oh, the horror of breaking the rules!”

“Rule number one. No talking.” He pulls out of the parking lot and heads for his apartment.

“At all? Or during sex? Because I can’t not be vocal during sex, so that has to be vetoed.”

Anton glares at me.

“Oh, so, like, now. Got it.” I’m not used to rules—the lack of respect I had for my father meant I broke the few he tried to give me, until he didn’t bother anymore. I should be telling Anton to go to hell with his bossing me around, but I think I like it.

I shut my mouth, but I don’t do well with silence.

My fingers tap my leg, my cock strains behind my fly, and even though this car is a smooth ride and the leather seats are nice, I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life.

I shift, trying to stop the ache between my legs.

Anton’s eyes are lazily focused on the road, but I can’t help noticing the tent in his suit pants too.

How is it possible to hate each other as much as we do, but the thought of getting naked with him is like a direct hit of electricity to my balls?

Anton’s apartment isn’t far from the arena, but it’s still too long for me to deal with silence and not occupy myself with something else, so I lean closer to him and reach across to run my hand up his thigh.

His legs are so powerful and thick. They have to be for how fast he is on the ice.

“What are you doing?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

I mime locking my lips.

“Fucking smartass.” But despite his words, he widens his thighs.

I inch my hand higher and rub over the bulge in his pants.

He lets out a heavy breath. “Are you trying to make us crash?”

“Apparently the only time I can talk is if we’re having sex, so I figure if I jerk you off, I can say anything while my hand is on your dick.” I go for his fly, but my seat belt holds me back, so I unclick it and then have better access to undo Anton’s pants.

Anton catches my hand. “Seriously?”

“Come on, break the road rules with me. Live on the dark side. Step outside the box and have mind-blowing sex outside of the bedroom for once. Who knew you were so vanilla?”

He side-eyes me quickly before focusing back on the road. “If I remember correctly, we had some damn hot sex up against a wall not that long ago.”

“Whoa, wild child, settle down. Ten feet outside the bedroom is too crazy.”

“I’m starting to think the no-talking rule should be a constant thing.” He releases my hand so he can put on the turn signal, and I don’t waste time in taking his cock out.

I’m surprised when he lets me.

“Do you want my hand or my mouth?”

“Jesus.” His grip tightens on the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white.

“I don’t think I can get Jesus for you, but I do get the impression you want my mouth. You just don’t want to ask for it.”

Anton’s lips purse.

“Oh, how the tables have turned. You wanted me to beg, and now you need to.” I stroke his cock from tip to base, and he shudders. “Tell me to suck you off.”

A strained noise comes from the back of his throat, and then he reaches to cup my face and run his thumb over my bearded cheek. “I want to fuck this mouth.” His thumb moves across my lips. “Give me what I want.”

The urge to refuse is strong for no other reason than to leave him hanging and to be an asshole, but the way I let down a tiny bit of my guard by saying please, he’s doing the same right now.

His dark gaze flicks to mine again for a brief moment, and the suspicion and dash of vulnerability has me giving him exactly what he wants.

I lower my head and lick along his slit while I still work him over with my hand. His cock is the most amazing dick I’ve ever seen, but no way in hell will I tell him that. The head is swollen and red, and there’s one thick vein running down the underside.

As I suck him into my mouth and ease down his long length, I move my hand into his pants and grip his balls.

I get lost in his scent, his sharp breaths, and the faint salty taste of precum. The choked noises he lets out, the strangled gasps of shock, like he was under the impression I didn’t have skills until now, only spurs me on to give him the best damn blowjob of his life. Even if it is awkward as hell in a moving car.

“Shit, red light.” Anton hits the brakes, and the sudden stop forces his cock into the back of my throat.

I choke and splutter until the car stops, then yank off him, hitting my head on the steering wheel and setting off the horn.

“You’re so right,” Anton says dryly. “This is so much better than sex in a bed.”

I laugh. “At least it’s not boring.”

“Mm, concussions are known to be fun. How’s your head?”

“Never had any complaints,” I quip. I sit up, moving back onto my side, and rub the back of my skull.

“My place is literally around the corner,” Anton says.

When he pulls into his parking spot in the underground garage, he turns the car off and then tucks himself away. His cock has deflated since the red light incident.

I stare at him, at the slight hesitance on his face, and in the low light, with his dark hair unstyled and falling across his forehead, he looks like a billboard model for expensive vodka. Or clothes.

“Changing your mind?” I taunt. “You can still kick me out.”

“Somehow, I don’t think getting rid of you is as easy as that.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself I’m that pushy.” I lean back in my seat and rub my cock through my pants. “It has nothing to do with wanting this. Nothing to do with wanting to make me come again.”

Anton’s gaze doesn’t leave my crotch as he says, “Nothing at all.” He clears his throat. “Get upstairs. Now.”

I grab my bag from the back. Anton leaves his, and I have to hurry to catch up to him. “In a rush?”

“Yes.”

The elevator is empty when we step in.

“Perfect,” I purr and try to pull him close.

He shoves me off him and says, “Cameras.”

Damn.

I keep my distance until he unlocks his door and steps aside to let me in.

Everything is the same as it was when I was here last. Nothing is packed, and everything is in its place.

“You do know you live in Boston now, right? Aren’t you bringing all this stuff with you?”

“Do you want to talk about my furniture or do you want me to fuck you?”

“Why can’t we do both?”

“Why do you care?”

“Mm, growly Anton really gets me hot.”

He gives me a blank look.

“Frustrated Anton is even hotter.”

Anton grabs my wrist with his big hand and pulls me down a hallway. “Get in there.” He opens a door to his master bedroom.

“Ooh, yay, sex in a bed. Did we learn nothing from the car ride here?”

Anton ignores me. “Strip.”

I turn to find him scrambling out of his suit, so I take my time, loving the way he glares at me when he’s completely naked and I still have my pants on.

Instead of complaining, he dips his fingers into my waistband and pulls me against him.

Chest to chest, skin to skin, the prickle of anticipation rushes through me. My lips tingle as I expect him to close the gap and kiss me, but then that makes me realize we didn’t kiss the last time we hooked up.

My stomach flips as he leans in. Closer. Almost there.

Then his head drops, and he stares as he pushes my pants and underwear down, freeing my cock.

“Go over to the window,” he orders.

“You going to push me out of it?”

“Mm, that fantasy actually turns me on more than the thought of taking your tight ass again.”

“What about fucking me and then throwing me out the window?”

Anton laughs. “Nrg, I think I might come.”

I go stand by the wide ceiling-to-floor window. He has a small balcony off his bedroom, so at least I know if he gives in to his fantasy, I won’t fall twenty-something stories to my death.

Maybe I should be concerned I’m willing to have sex with someone I’m only ten percent sure won’t turn homicidal on me, but I’m not.

Anton rummages around in a drawer behind me, but I can’t take my gaze off the city. Even when Anton steps up behind me and presses his hard cock against my ass cheek.

“Going to do me like this again?” I ask.

His forehead lands on the back of my neck. “When I can’t see your face, it’s easy to believe you’re someone else.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

“Let’s get one thing straight. This isn’t about being sweet. Nothing about this is romantic.”

“Insults are pretty romantic to me.”

“Of course they are. It’s how you cavemen communicate.” His lubed finger slips into my ass crack, and his breath lands in my ear. “Let me in.”

I bend and put my forearm on the glass pane in front of me. “Are you sure this window will hold us both? I really don’t want to explain to Coach how we both fell through a window naked and need to go on the IR list.”

Without warning, Anton’s arm tightens around my waist as he spins us and pushes me toward the bed. I catch myself, my hands gripping his comforter, my chest flat against the mattress, and my ass sticking out.

“The no-talking rule is back in play,” he says.

“But—”

“Ez, if you want my dick”—he rubs his cock down my crack—“you’ll shut the fuck up.”

Sex with Anton goes against everything I believe in. Like shutting up. And begging. Saying please.

Yet, I do as he says because the second he has me prepped and his cock breaches my hole, he turns me out like nobody ever has.

He gives only a few seconds to adjust to his fat cock before he lets loose. With each thrust, each sting, my body hums.

I don’t know how he does it or why it’s so good with him. It just is.

Every time his cock pegs my prostate, my legs tremble.

I lower my head and rest it against the bed while the sounds and smell of sex fill the air. Anton grunts, and I moan. His balls slap against my ass every time he pushes in. My face burns, my gut heats, and I only want more. I crave it.

“Damn, Ez. You feel so good. Too good.”

The snarky comeback sits on my tongue, but I swallow it down. I get the feeling he was testing me. I’m supposed to be silent.

Anton slams inside one more time and stills. At first, I think he’s come, but then he leans over me, that raspy voice in my ear once again. “Tell me how much you like me fucking you.”

“I do,” I admit. “I want to take a mold of your perfect dick so I can make a dildo and fuck myself with it.”

He grips my hair. “Or you could ask me to do it.”

“You mean beg?”

A laugh hits my neck. “There might be some begging involved. You’re so hot when you’re needy.”

I push back because I need him to keep moving inside me. “Fuck me, then.” My cock drags along the comforter, teasing me with that tiny bit of friction I need.

Anton stands still while I fuck myself on his dick, but it’s not enough. I need him to meet me thrust for thrust. I need him to tear me in two.

“Please,” I find myself saying … again. It falls out way too easily.

Anton Hayes is a sadist. This is practically torture for me.

“That’s better.” He pulls out of me and then slams back in, and I cry out.

I reach between me and the bed to stroke my cock.

“You going to come?”

“So close. So—”

He gives one more hard push inside, and it sends me over the edge. I tense and come all over my hand and his comforter. Anton quickly pulls out of me, snaps off the condom, and then jerks himself against my back. The slick sounds and heavy breathing let me know he’s close, and it only takes a few seconds for the spurt of warm cum to hit my skin.

We tumble into a pile of limbs and breathe hard. I’m turned to jelly, my eyes are heavy, and he must sense it.

“Stay if you want. Or go back to the hotel. Up to you. I’m going to shower and go to sleep.”

I don’t push my luck and ask if showering is an invitation. So while he disappears, I use his comforter to clean myself off. He’s already going to have to wash it anyway. I swipe my underwear off the ground and pull them on. Anton takes the shortest shower in history and is back out before I find my shirt.

He throws a towel at me. “Shower’s all yours if you want it.”

As much as I’m mostly clean, I figure I’ll get it out of the way now, but I underestimate the power of Anton’s six showerheads. The water comes at you from two angles and feels like heaven on my tired muscles.

I stay in there so long that Anton’s snoring when I get back out.

He did say I could stay, but the thought of climbing into bed with him feels too … intimate.

I get back into my suit and check my phone, noticing an email from my agent. It’s a YouTube link to the cologne ad I shot during the off-season.

Anton’s smart TV catches my eye.

I might not be comfortable with staying in his bed, but if he wants me here, I’ll give it to him.

I grab the remote and flick through to YouTube on his TV. Then find my ad and put it on a loop. I only wish I could be here to see his face when he wakes up to my presence.