Page 62 of Zero Pucks

Pressing my hands into the mattress, I tilted back as he let me go, and I spun. My left thigh caught his arm, and I wobbled to the side, but he caught me before I could topple over. Our gazes locked, and then his mouth twitched.

I was the one who broke first, bursting into laughter as I righted myself. He grinned, his hands coming up to my hips to pull me close, and then the moment sobered. His gaze was still on mine, but I watched as it wavered. And then dipped low.

He swallowed heavily again. One hand on my hip twitched, then moved down a few inches. He wanted to touch, but he was holding back. I wasn’t new to this either. My hookups were often both disgusted and fascinated by the abrupt way my legs just…ended. One slightly longer than the other, but no less stark a difference from what most people looked like.

“Do they hurt?”

Also not a question I was unused to. “Sometimes. Not right this second.” A half-lie. They were sore, but it wasn’t pain the way I usually knew it. “They’re sensitive.”

“How careful do I need to be?” His gaze lifted back to mine, and I studied his face like I would need to take an exam on his expressions later.

Nothing had changed. He wasn’t turned off. He wasn’t turned on.

“You never need to be careful with me.” Also a half-truth. I wanted someone to be tender and soft with me. But I would never ask for that.

He smiled and lifted his right hand, cupping my jaw. “What can we do?”

“I mean, I can do anything except hold you up and fuck you against the wall. I know my legs are short, but I swear I’m really good with them?—”

“No,” he said, choking on a laugh. “N-not…not that. I mean…” He took a slow breath. “Tonight. No condoms, so?—”

“Oh!” I used my hands to lift my ass and better settle over his thighs. He grunted at my weight, and his hand flew back down to my waist to hold me there as I draped my arms over his shoulders. “I have some ideas.”

“Mm?”

I looked down at us—both hard, our dicks straining against boxers like they were trying to touch. I rocked forward against him, and he sucked in a sharp breath when my erection rubbed over his. “This is good.”

“Mhm.”

“So is sucking cock.”

His pupils blew wide.

“You like that idea?”

He nodded, biting his lip. He let a breath out through his nose, then said, “I really want to taste you.”

Not what I’d been implying, but I sure as fuck wasn’t going to turn down having my cock sucked with that pretty, pretty mouth of his. I traced his lower lip with the tip of two fingers. “How do you want me to make you come?”

He groaned softly but didn’t answer.

“I’m asking now because if you put your mouth on me, I’m going to shoot my load in under a minute. I’ve been fantasizing about you since the moment we had brunch.”

His ears were bright red. “I just want your hand.”

“Yeah?” I dropped one to his pec and flicked my thumb over his nipple. My hands were not the best part of me. They were rough as fuck, calloused from the game and from how much I relied on them holding my body weight whenever I wasn’t in my legs. Most people didn’t enjoy that on their delicate bits.

But Amedeo arched at my touch, a groan ripping from his chest like he couldn’t help it. Fuck, he was so responsive.

“You are so pretty like this,” I murmured. I hesitated to see if he minded being called that. It didn’t look like he did. At all. “So fucking gorgeous. Love the way you respond to me.”

“You feel good,” he whispered. He arched forward again, rubbing his chest along mine.

I wanted nothing more than to take him in my hand and make him come right there, but before I could get any wild ideas, he leaned back and shuffled me off his legs. My ass hit the bed with a dull thud, and then he used his hands to spin my head toward the pillows.

It was unexpected. I didn’t mind being handled a bit, but I hadn’t realized he had it in him. And I fucking loved it. My cock jumped again, and he watched it before tucking his fingers into the waistband of my boxers.

“Lift up?”

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