1. Xander King

ONE

XANDER KING

“Seriously you two, go up. I’ll get a room, go sightsee early, then meet you back here.” I smile reassuringly at my best friend and his brand-spanking-new boyfriend , and it still takes me five more minutes to convince them I’m a big boy and can manage getting a room for the night without adult supervision.

Thankfully, the line in front of the reception desk moves fast after they disappear behind the elevator doors. God, they look sappy and in love. It’s amazing that my best friend found someone who’s so obviously perfect for him.

I can tell. Even though I only met Bear today, officially at least. I’ve been a hockey fan for a few years now, and I knew of Bear, of course. Just like I know of all of the people we had dinner with tonight. Getting a front row seat to the dynamics between the players of the Las Vegas Pirates is how a lot of my dirtiest sexual fantasies begin.

It’s not the way tonight’s ending, I know, but it was still entertaining as hell.

I’m surprised at how all of them seem like genuinely good guys. There are a few standouts. Like Bear, duh. And Eagle—a.k.a. Ivan—son of Lyla Storm, the most famous supermodel in recent history. It was insanely cute watching him talk about his game with his mother, and watching her ignore all the strong and handsome men who were obviously dazzled by her beauty.

Like I suppose anyone who meets her is.

As it should be. The woman is the definition of timeless beauty.

“You okay?”

I startle at the deep voice right behind me, and turn to see the most significant standout of the night, at least for me.

Milkman, a.k.a. Wyatt Perry.

He was mostly quiet during dinner, but made fun of his teammates with perfect timing throughout the night. He’s also, by far, the most gorgeous of the bunch.

I’ve been low-key obsessed with him since he was traded to the Pirates a little over two years ago. He’s way too young for me, twenty to my twenty-seven, but my dick has zero issues with a bit of an age gap. Mostly because he’s exactly my type.

Tall, dark, strong, handsome, and—as he so casually said during the nickname conversation over dinner—hung like a horse.

“I’m fine.” Does my voice sound breathy? Jesus, I hope he doesn’t notice, because the last thing I want is him running away from my horny ass.

He doesn’t run away, and my guess is, I don’t disguise how horny said ass is, because a filthy fucking smirk slowly takes over the friendly smile he was giving me.

Holy Henry Cavil.

No one should be allowed to be that sexy. I should know, my income depends on me being sexy, and this dude has me weak in the knees.

“You trying to get a room?” he asks with a head tilt, and without moving his eyes away from me. They’re black, no color whatsoever in his irises, intense as hell, and perfectly framed by sharp, dark eyebrows. Unlike most of the men we had dinner with tonight, his nose is perfectly straight, his jaw carved like granite, and his soft-looking lips make me think of them wrapped around my erection.

“I am.” It’s better to give short answers until I can get my breath back. If he’s still in front of me when that happens, then I hope he doesn’t mind me coming on to him stronger than ever.

The way he’s looking down at me makes me think he wouldn’t have one single issue with that. Fuck, can I be lucky enough for there to be yet another queer player in the hockey team?

I get my answer when he bites his lower lip and his eyes trail down my body. It feels like he’s setting me on fire with every inch he covers, and I’m here for it.

A night with the gorgeous, but way too young hockey player is just what the doctor ordered.

“Why don’t you share mine?” he whispers low. “Plenty of room in my bed.” And that’s when his eyes once more collide with mine.

I stare at him for a full minute, trying to decide if he means it. When I only see certainty, I know there’s only one thing I have to tell him before we do this. Sadly, it may be the one thing that ends up making him back away from his offer.

Instead of answering, I tilt my head the same way he did a second ago and walk to a secluded corner of the lobby. I have a good feeling he’ll follow, but I’m sure once I feel his eyes on my ass. I have a great ass, another important thing for my job.

And my job... well, that’s what I have to talk to him about.

I lean back against a pillar, and don’t move an inch or even fidget when he stops indecently close to me. I can practically hear his heartbeats since my face is at his chest height. I don’t mind it, not one single bit.

But he might mind what I do every day, so I just come out with it.

“You know I’m a sex-worker at a sex club, right?”

I see he didn’t know when his eyebrows rise dramatically.

Sigh . I guess it was too good to be?—

“So?”

That’s not what I was expecting him to say, but it’s the perfect response.

“A lot of men don’t want to fuck whores unless they’re paying them.”

He tilts his head, and the intensity is back in his eyes. “Do you want me to pay you?” Fuck, what does he do to speak like that? The full-body goosebumps are only one of my body’s responses to his talking like he’s already thrusting into me.

My dick going from hard to throbbing is the most pressing one.

“No,” I whisper, and place my hand on his chest. I trace one of the buttons of his shirt lightly and when he shifts on his feet, I realize I’m having just as much of an effect on him. That’s what I like. “I don’t have a money kink, I have a sex kink. I love it, always, in all ways, but I just thought I’d let you know.”

“Then I’ll let you know that I’ve known I’m bisexual for about three years, and I’ve never done anything other than kiss a man.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes, Xander. I want to kiss you.” He leans in, and puts his mouth so close to my ear that I feel his lips moving against it when he speaks. “And I want to do a lot more.” He bites my earlobe gently, and soothes the sting with his tongue. “So are you coming up to my room with me?”

“Okay,” I say, in a breathy moan.

“Let’s go, then.” The predatory smile is back when he straightens. And then he’s placing a hand on my lower back, one finger pressing to the top of my crease with surprising pressure. Damn, I’m so fucking ready for what’s about to happen.