Page 84 of My Pucking Crush

He gurgles, his throat vibrating from his gag reflex. I stop pumping and allow him to come up for air. Then I make eye contact and push him back down to suck my greedy cock.

My eyes stray to the television, the screen filled with my skating beasts out for blood and revenge. All while I’m getting my dick sucked. It’s hard to feel sorry for myself for the suspension when I’m balls deep in euphoric erotic agony.

My control snaps, and my orgasm shatters any composure I had. I cry out, a loud moan ripping from my throat as I spill down Luca’s throat. He drinks me down. Every damn drop.

“Fuck,” I roar. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

It’s a war cry, booming and aggressive. I don’t give a shit if all of Stamford hears me.

“Good boy.” I yank Luca up by a mess of glossy brown curls and kiss him, licking the inside of his mouth to taste myself on his tongue.

We breathe heavily, our foreheads together. His eyes lower and he licks his lips. “Wow,” is all he says.

The game comes back into focus as the commentator shouts, “Madison passes to Willis, he shoots, he scores. 4-1, Richmond!”

Sitting up, my attention pivots to the screen.Four-One? How the fuck long was Luca sucking my dick? Christ, did he keep going since my team was losing?

Are they getting creamed because I’m not there?

Luca bristles, getting to his feet. In jeans and a tight gray sweater, he looks sharp, and not like a man who just sucked a dick. “I’ll be right back...”

“Wait,” I say, my eyes back and forth from his to the game. “You...”

“I’ll take care of myself. Watch the game.”

I get to my feet. “You don’t want to watch it with me anymore?”

He glances around. “You like your space. I respect that.”

“I like you in my space more,” comes out before I can stop myself.

FORTY

Luca

Max’s words still me. Every moment turns into a surprise with him. And hewantsto hang out with me.

“You need to get off. Come here, you hot-as-fuck bodyguard.” The edge in Max’s voice makes my cock throb and pulse. “I need something else on my mind other than these motherfuckers creaming my guys.”

“I hope they’re not creaming alloverour guys.”

“Ours,” he whispers. “I like that.”

For now...

I push my jeans down and stroke his busted face while he licks my balls and taint. I worry my piercings may pinch his injured lip, but with me pumping my cock, I get off in less than a minute.

We stroke my cock together as I climax, the warm cum spilling over our joined hands. I clean up in his bathroom, while he heads to the half bath off the kitchen.

When I return, there’s a beer on the coffee table and Max pats the sofa inviting me to sit.

The Crusher’s second game against Richmond, this one without Max on the ice, makes our team look like they are skating around with sopping wet blankets over their heads. They’re failing miserably.

“How does this end?” Max asks me.

“What do you mean?”

“When do they stop?”

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