Page 4 of My Pucking Crush

That familiar perfume forces my eyes open.

The woman.

“Sorry, handsome.”

“Oh shit.”

“Nothing personal.” She lifts something, a shadow covering me.

The last thing I see is a metal lamp coming down on my head.

TWO

Luca

“Suck my cock,” I groan to the beast of a man on his knees in front of me.

The new male-on-male fantasy room at Club Dare is going to eat away my current savings. But this Manhattan club is miles away from Connecticut where I live and work doing security for the Stamford Crushers hockey team.

And this guy sucking my cock doesn’t mind wearing a red, gold, and black hockey jersey and nothing else.

My team won against their brutal rivals, Richmond, tonight, so I treated myself. I’m naked and watching my cock slide in and out of his full lips. Focusing on any other part of this guy will kill my buzz.

The jersey I requested he wear is number 43, Max Ryan’s number. Max and the other players left the stadium after the team’s win. They headed for one of their usual bars in Norwalk to pick up women to fuck. Ironic because my houseboat is docked onehundred yards from the bar, and it would be the perfect place to fuck Max in the dark.

I’m in crush hell, lusting after a player on the team I work for.Andhe’s straight. I’d sworn off straight guys. Was tired of lusting after them with none of the payoff.

I was open to bi, though.

But in comes a beautiful woman, and it’s bye bi.

I have an unhealthy obsession with Max. Five years lusting after someone I’ll never have has ruined any chance of a real relationship. I really have to move on. Find a man who’ll give me what I need. Like this guy swallowing my cock like a pro right now. I imagine Max would give great head if he were gay.

I dream about that thick neck, perfect square jaw, and wide mouth.

“Fuck, yeah. I’m close,” I mutter, seconds from coming down this guy’s throat. But I want to come inside him while he’s on his hands and knees, me railing him like there’s no tomorrow.

A buzzing sound from my jeans laying on the floor jars me out of the scene. It’s nearly midnight. No one calls me this late.

Not anymore.

“Hang on.” I yank my dick out of the wet mouth and grab my phone.

“Hey, it’s your hard-on.” He sits back and strokes his own dick. “I’ll wait.”

Charming.

I freeze when I see it’s my boss, the Director of Security for the Crushers.

Something happened...

“This is Luca.”

“Sheppard,” Hank Bronwin’s scratchy voice using my fake last name snaps me to attention. “Where are you?”

I buried the name Korolev after I escaped the clutches of a bitter Russian pakhan who wanted me dead after my wife and son died in a car accident.

“I’m in the city. Why?”

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