Page 65 of My Pucking Crush

Jesus fucking Christ, we’re doing this. We’re fucking.

“Then I’ll get clean,” I say, standing up, keeping my eyes trained on his hard cock.

“Wait...” Max stops me, gripping my wrist. “It’s a habit. A hang up. About being clean.”

“It’s okay. We all have hang ups.”

“It’s from my past. I want to get over it.” He runs his hands along my shirt. “I’m...messed up about a lot of things.”

“Don’t do this unless you want to.”

“I want to. I wanted you from the moment I saw you in that hospital room. I’ve conditioned myself to mistrust what I feel.”

I think about the guys in my club who come in confused, and most leave in worse shape.

Max has a game tomorrow night. I don’t have what it takes to be a shrink.

“I’m going to be your bodyguard until the end of the season no matter what. I won’t be run off—”

He pushes me down on the bed, and laying on top of me, his mouth lands on mine. One hand snakes around my waist and cups my ass. Claiming it. Claiming me.

He’s warm and wet and tastes minty. His tongue swirls with mine and the ache inside me grows. His mouth, his tongue tasting my lips, is heaven.

Groaning, he deepens the kiss, and I welcome it eagerly. Too eager, as my heart pounds wildly. Everything shivers. My chest. My fingers. My cock.

Fuck, he’s good at this. And I feel like it’s setting the pace for whatever happens next. His kiss has meaning. I use a sex club. I know the difference.

Maybe I have hang ups, too.

“Are you sure you’re confused?” I break the kiss, needing to breathe and pinch myself. “Because you fucking kiss like a man kisses a man. Not a man figuring out how to kiss a man.”

“There’s something about you. Something about this mouth.” Max grips my jaw. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“We can stop right now.”

“Don’t want to stop.” He kisses down my chest. “I appreciate this tight body of yours. I see six packs and thick biceps all day. We have to look this way. But you...”

“Me,” I let out a groan.

“You don’t have to look like this.”

“As a gay man, yeah, I do,” I say with a chuckle.

“Gay,” he utters. “Not bi.”

“No. I was forced to get married and slept with her just to give her a child, or Ivan would have thought something was wrong with her and hurt her. It was expected of me and I got through it.”

“Fuck, that’s sad.”

“Did you say something about burying your dick inside me? Because that will make me less sad.”

He laughs and palms my cock. “I did. Now you touch me. I need it.”

My fantasies didn’t do this man justice. I hadn’t dared to look at him in the locker room, worried he’ll see right through my stare.

My free hand skates around to his ass, and there’s not an ounce of fat, but two firm, rock-hard glutes.

“How the fuck do you get an ass like this?” I mutter against his neck.

---