Page 99 of My Pucking Crush

Over the next two hours, Luca and I kiss, fondle each other, and watch others who use this club as a place to get off. I’m submitting to this community and being a positive participant.

Luca is right, I feel so accepted.

When I have him bent over on his knees and I’m fucking him, Luca’s mouth hangs open, as I watch him unravel.

The precum-saliva cocktail drips out of his ass while I keep thrusting. The wet slick mess hits my balls and next, I’m coming again. I pull out, my cum squirting with such force, it hits his shoulder blades. I swirl a thick finger through the dripping cum on his ass, and push it into his hole.

“Now put that mouth to work on me, my filthy boy,” he rasps.

Regaining my focus, I lay down and let him fuck my mouth while straddling me. “Sit on my face.”

All I smell is his skin and hisarousal. He shoves his ready-to-burst dick back into my mouth, the ring tip bumping against my tonsils. I suck him so hard he cries out, and within seconds his warm salty cum hits the back of my throat. I want to swallow it all, but there’s so much, it ends up spilling out, making my mouth slick.

It’s so filthy and hot at the same time.

When he pulls out this time, he kisses me hard, his tongue tasting his cum.

“Good boy,” he mutters. “Such a good boy for your bodyguard.”

FIFTY-ONE

Luca

I’m wound tight with Richmond in the house for Game One of the second round of playoffs. I keep it together, walking shoulder to shoulder with Bronwin on our way to GM Reid’s suite.

The practice facility doubles as the official headquarters, and management keeps luxury offices there. Reid’s message to meet with him already has me rattled. But I nearly collapse to the floor when I step inside and see Ivan Belova standing there.

“Luca.” Aaron Reid stands up. “Come in.”

I close the door and remind myself where I am. This is not some dusty backroom in Chicago where one of Ivan’s goons can take a shot at me and get away with it. This is a professional goddamn arena with cameras and other security guards crawling all over the place. Not to mention Stamford’s Finest who send extra cops to playoff games.

I’m also still within Ivan’s deadline to go home. I’ve done nothing wrong.

We stare at each other through his intro with Bronwin. Even if we didn’t already despise each other, Ivan was caught red-handed by my security team attacking Max. Reid just didn’t want to press charges or get the league involved.

Hockey politics.

“I’d rather beat them on the ice. Not trust some already shady-as-fuck team with slick lawyers to weasel their way around the evidence and then we’ve hung our dicks out to dry looking like crybabies over a few cuts and bruises.”

But a severe head injury put Max in the hospital. Reid never reported that to the league, keeping the team captain off the official injury list. I guess we’re all a little shady.

After the introductions, Reid gets to me. “Luca, this is Ivan Belova, the new owner for Richmond.”

Clearing my throat, I nod in his direction. “Sir.”

“And this is my assistant.” He steps out of the way. “SamaraKorolev.”

My legs go weak, but I study every inch of my sister.

“Samara, how are you enjoying working for Mr. Belova?” I ask, my stomach in knots.

“It’s great.” She shifts from side to side. Not a hair out of place or a bruise on face. “My sister got me the job.”

Heart pounding, I mutter with a tilted head, “And how is your sister?”

Ivan’s shocked glance bounces between us. He knows Fina is dead.

“Great. She’s in Miami.”

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