Page 37 of My Pucking Crush

“Shit. Sorry. Didn’t see you,” he says, sounding guilty.

“I’d rephrase that. You’re supposed to be watching me.”

“You’re not a two-year-old.” He steps toward me. “I’mguardingyou.”

Chain hotel rooms are not built for hockey players who are almost all over six feet tall with a wide girth. But I never felt the walls close in on me with Madison like Ifeel them with Luca.

Maybe I want them to close in. Shove us together, force me to act on these feelings. See if he’s receptive.

More sweat trickles down my back and I step away. “I’ll be in the bathroom. Do you need the toilet?”

“No,” he says sharply.

I scoff. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. I’m not a dick.”

“Could have fooled me.” His mouthing off to me has me confused as fuck.

I don’t know if I want to punch him or kiss that smart-ass mouth and suck on his wicked pierced tongue. I want to feel it on my ass.Inmy ass. Only, that’s where my trigger points lay.

Anal penetration. All of my secret encounters have been me on top, or just blowjobs. I haven’t even let a guy finger me. Memories of Uncle Harris still sting and make me sick.

I’ve made peace with that abusive vacation. Even though he held me down, threatened, beat, and brutalized me. I’m no victim. I’m stronger than that.

In the bathroom, I close the door but leave it unlocked. There’s no worse feeling than having to pee.

Okay, there are. A stick across the jaw. A skate blade cutting your cheek. Oh, and an adult man’s cock in your young ass, taking you for the first time against your will.

UNDER THE HOT SPRAY, my mind drifts to Jake. The situation with him is intrinsically connected to the rape. His telling on me led to the weekend with Uncle Harris.

Jake had a girlfriend. To her, I was just his best friend and teammate. I became much more when I climbed into his bedroom window at night. He let me fuck him, moaned, and clawed at me like he loved it.

I thought maybe he loved me. I still don’t know whatturned everything so upside down. Why did Jake lie to his parents out of nowhere? My mom was so distraught, but nothing like my father. He was so fucking livid and sent me for a weeklong fishing trip with his brother, who got a set of instructions:Butch up this pussy.

I.e.: Rough the gay out of me.

Whether or not Dad knew his brother would spend all week raping me is a question I haven’t been able to ask, and it’s caused a resentment I’ve long buried to survive. Especially after I got signed to the Crushers.

My parents started asking for money when I made it big. I worried they’d go to the press if I denied them. Worried they would give those hungry vultures a juicy scoop of my past with Jake.

I write those checks every month to keep them quiet.

With my hand on the shower wall, my head sagging in exhaustion, I push away all those terrible memories. Only, I’m hard. Some kind of sick reaction to my past trauma.

That, and I haven’t been laid in weeks.

Swallowing, I reach down and stroke my cock.

“Fuck,” I mutter, it’s so hard and sensitive.

It won’t take long to come.

As I pump it, using the soap to keep it slick, I fight to think of the last woman’s lips wrapped around my shaft. But a face won’t come to mind.

The only lips I see are Luca’s.

His mouth.

Why is he into men? Did it just happen? Who was his first? What’s his story other than the bodyguard? Now I have a visual to get off by.

---