Page 6 of Pucking Vamps

He licks his lips and leans forward, changing the angle. I cry out in pleasure, and then do it again as he wraps his hand around my leaking cock. His mouth finds my neck, kissing and nipping and grazing me with teeth. He seems to have a thing for playful biting, but even that turns me on.

Everything he is doing to me does. I can’t explain it. I don’t know how he can be so good at it, how he can tell what will drive me crazy. He’s single-handedly ruining the boring one-night stands I’ve been having all my life and I’m more than willing to let him. Because this feels so different, so monumental somehow, like I was meant to meet him tonight on one of the worst days of my life so he can fix it for me.

I do want him to keep talking, though. Damn. I didn’t know I had a thing for that. I want to hear how good I am and how crazy I drive him. I don’t even know his name, but he’s outright blowing my mind right now like he has no right to. He’s a one-time hookup, he was supposed to be slightly above average at best, not a fucking Sex God.

But well, he is, and it would be a waste not to make the best of it and live out some of my very secret fantasies.

“Harder, please,” I whine, caging him with my arms on top of me and digging my fingers into his back. “Daddy,” I add experimentally, testing out how the word feels on my tongue.

I’ve had some people call me that a few times and it’s kind of hot now and then. I’ve never been the one to say it, obviously, but the heated look Club Guy gives me as his mouth curves up in a slow and satisfied smile encourages me to give it a go.

“Do you like that? Daddy? I’m such a good boy. You should reward me.”

This is so not me, but that makes it more titillating. I’m showing him something I haven’t shown to anyone. It’s just pouring out of me, tempted by this strange sense of comfort this man instills in me. I’m at his mercy and he can do whatever he wants to me.

“Good boys don’t demand rewards.” He snaps his hips, burying his dick even deeper. I keen, arching off the bed as I chase after that intense sensation of fullness. “They ask nicely.”

I nod, my body shaking from the force of his thrusts. They are rougher now, matching the strokes of his hand and building up heat and pressure at the base of my spine. “Please, Daddy. Fuck me harder with your big cock and make me come.”

He hums, straightening back up on his haunches. Bringing my legs together, he tosses them over one shoulder and starts railing me at yet another angle. My nerve endings sing, frayed and needy.

“I wish you could see yourself. How pretty you are eating up my cock. So, so pretty.”

“Yess… Mm, Daddy’s dick feels amazing.”

My balls draw up and I reach for my dick, needing to come. Club Guy clicks his tongue, swatting my thigh. Confused, I frown at him, but then his hand coils around my erection and starts jerking me off with urgency that matches the motions of his hips.

Fuck, I love that he wants to be the one to make me go over the edge. I think he’s close as well, but he’s prioritizing my pleasure to his. It’s unbelievably hot and it makes my chest feel a little tight.

“Come for me, Hayden. And let me hear you. Don’t hold your voice back.”

He goes feral, pounding into me so hard the bed moves. I moan as I hold onto the grills of the headboard, my mind blanking out as vicious fire pulses in my veins. I’ll feel this tomorrow, oh boy will I feel it, but that doesn’t matter right now when I am so very close to that peak of pleasure that this mysterious stranger I met in a random club has been building up to for the past hour.

A couple more passes over my prostate and I come, shouting through my release. He fucks me through it, not slowing down, and groans when his own orgasm hits him. Part of me wonders what it might feel like if he spilled inside me, but I am too much of a boneless mess to exercise higher brain functions right now, so I simply enjoy the blissful tremors coursing through me and close my eyes for a second.

Chapter 3

Hayden

I enter the changing rooms, wincing a little as I kick a stray sneaker out of the way. Club Guy fucked my brains out last night. I don’t remember exactly what happened after he woke me up for a second round of sex, but I must’ve passed out, because I came by on the dingy couch in my apartment.

He must’ve taken me home then. None of my belongings were missing—not that he’d bother to steal anything when it looked like he’s not short on money—and my driver’s license was on the low table. My address is on that, so it explains how he knew where I live… which reminds me that I don’t really know where he lives, because all those high-end neighborhoods are built like fucking mazes.

Veering to the left, I trudge over to my locker. I mean, it doesn’t matter where he lives anyway. I don’t do repeats, period. Normally that is, because I also have never had such mind-blowing sex before.

Frowning, I squeeze the handle. What the fuck do I do with that?

“Johnson, you’re gonna join us for practice or stare at your locker like it’s Mona Lisa?” Anthony Park grumbles like a tractor in his deep and hoarse voice, appearing from the second aisle with lockers. He’s already suited up and two of the reserves are with him, giggling like gossiping aunties at his very unfunny and sad excuse for a joke.

Me and that redhead don’t mesh well. I’m not sure why, but there’s always been tension between us. We are both first line—I’m left wing, and he’s right, while Nick is center—and we can play well enough most of the time. Aside from yesterday, which is part of the reason Coach had a go at me. If that ass Park knew when to keep his mouth shut, I would have an easier time focusing on the game.

“Hilarious, Park. You should go be a curator. Who knows, maybe you’ll be better at it than hockey,” I toss back, flipping him over when he gives me the middle finger.

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll give you free entry since that’s the only way you’re ever affording a gallery.”

Ouch, what a complete asshole. It’s not my fault my parents died in a stupid car crash and left me with nothing. I lived with my crappy uncle until I turned eighteen, but I’ve been on my own ever since. I have to say I’m doing fairly well considering my tightly packed schedule.

The scholarship I landed helps a lot since it takes care of the tuition fees, but rent, food and anything else, I have to cover with the meager earnings from my job at the parcel depot. Still, I’m not complaining. Hard work has never deterred me. I just wish it would start paying off soon so I can begin my life of riches and fame as one of the NHL’s all-time star hockey players.

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