Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Hayes

“I don’t understand your problem with hockey players,” Rylan says from his spot on the couch, and…holy shit. I’m in Rylan Pierce’s living room. The truth hits me, and I get a little dizzy, almost start having trouble breathing again, but I manage to keep myself in check. Barely.

“I don’t have a problem with hockey players. I never really thought of hockey players until recently.”

“You were at a game.”

“Because Malcolm liked hockey, and I was trying to be a good boyfriend. I don’t want to talk about ass-face, though. My issue now is just publicity. And I thought you knew who I was and were playing games with me.”

Rylan nods, and I’m grateful he seems to accept my answer and doesn’t push to go into more detail. This situation has been embarrassing enough. I can’t believe I came over here—or that I found his address illegally through hotel records. My dad will kill me if he finds out.

“I’ll reiterate one last time that I was with you because I wanted to be and not for any other reason. It was seriously hot as hell, which I already said.”

My stomach gets a light, fluttery feeling. I’ve never had someone tell me I’m good at sex before. The limited amount of sex I’ve had has been…okay sex. I hoped it was better for the other guys, but they never told me it was, so how can I know? “Really?” I ask, then wish I could snatch the word back.

“Fuck yes. But I’m not going to stand here and build up your ego.”

I try not to smile. “Technically, you’re sitting.” I struggle to ignore the way the flutter of excitement in my gut grows. I felt like I was a sex god myself the night we spent together, and I can’t pretend something about his response to me today doesn’t make me feel the same again. Rylan seems to want me. It makes absolutely no sense, but I’m not about to argue or expand on all the reasons I’m probably not all that great at sex, or being a boyfriend, or maybe even being a friend. I don’t have many of those either. Which is one of the reasons Malcolm chose you. He knew you’d be an easy mark. I try to push those thoughts out of my head.

“So…how is it going?” Rylan asks.

I study him, feel my forehead wrinkle slightly. Are we talking like friends now? This situation is confusing, and I can’t figure out what to make of it. “My life in general? Not great.”

“No. The having-all-the-sex thing. Last time we talked, you were going to start randomly hooking up with a bunch of hot guys, but then of course you’d be disappointed because none of them would be as good as me.”

“I don’t believe I said the last part.”

“I read between the lines.” He smirks.

God, he’s annoying. And really fucking sexy. He’s wearing a dumb Los Angeles Rebels T-shirt, but it’s tight against his pecs and muscular arms. I’ve never been much of a chest man, but then, I’ve never been up close and personal with a hockey player until Rylan either. He shifts, his hand rubbing along his left pec. He’s not even trying to be sexy, just scratching it, but it has blood rushing to my groin. What is it about this guy?

I try to get my mind off his body and back on the conversation. “Honestly, it’s not as easy as I thought it would be.” I’m not sure why I say that, why I’m being honest with him, but maybe it goes back to what I was thinking before getting distracted by his physique—how I don’t really have any friends. I don’t talk to anyone about friend-type stuff. It’s why I ignored the message from Donovan. I don’t know what he wants from me or what we’ll get out of meeting up to talk about how we all got used by the same asshole. All I want is to forget Malcolm, and hanging out with the other Jilted Exes won’t help with that.

“Really?” There’s genuine shock in his voice.

I scoff. “Not all of us look like you!” Goddamn it. He got me to compliment him again.

“And that’s what exactly?” Rylan waggles his brows at me, and I pull the chair pillow from behind my back and throw it at him. He catches it easily, laughing. “I’m giving you shit. Just tell the guys you have magic cum. That’ll help.”

I suck in a sharp breath and somehow choke on it, coughing embarrassingly and almost dying. When I manage to get myself under control, I ask, “Magic cum?”

“At least for me. Like I said earlier, I played like a god after we hooked up, and ever since then I’ve been shit.”

I wait for the punchline. Wait for him to show any sign that he’s joking, but nothing comes. “Are hockey players really this superstitious?” is what I settle on rather than asking him about my magic cum. Honestly, I can’t pretend I don’t like the sound of that.

“We follow the facts, and the facts are you’re carrying some superjuice around in those balls of yours…at least when it comes to me. Maybe don’t try it with another hockey player. But then once it wears off, it’s a talent sucker.”

I try to be annoyed by the last part, but all I can think about is this gorgeous man believing there’s something special about my load and—

“Oh my God, Hayes. Stop grinning. It’s fucking with my life! When does the bad luck wear off? Would you consider bottling it up and selling it?”

The ridiculousness of his words isn’t lost on me, but my brain snags on what he’s really saying…or what he could be saying. Maybe he would be down with hooking up again, which would be kind of perfect. I’ve never been confident when it comes to hitting on guys, hooking up, or having sex. I’ve always thought I must be shit at it, but Rylan acted like I was the Wayne Gretzky of blowjobs—I’m pretty sure that’s the famous hockey player’s name. Being with Rylan was a huge confidence boost. If we hooked up again, I could kill two birds with one stone. I could proceed with my plan of having no-strings-attached sex, just because I can . And I could also build up my sexual confidence, get more experience, and then when I finally do have sex with someone else, they’ll be amazed by my skills, and no one will ever cheat on me again—not that I ever plan to have a relationship again.

“What if we try it again?” I ask, not beating around the bush. This doesn’t have to be more than it is. I’m not asking to marry the guy. I’m making something like a business arrangement with him. “It makes sense. We can have sex again, and you can see if my cum really does carry…” I wave my hands back and forth. “Whatever you think it carries. Hockey juice. And I can have more commitment-free sex. If it works out as well the second time, then maybe we can come up with some kind of arrangement.”

“A sex arrangement?”

“You don’t have to make it sound dirty.”

“How else am I supposed to make it sound? And honestly, dirty sex is the best sex, so that’s not a bad thing.”

I try not to blush, but I feel heat rise to my cheeks. My cock twitches behind my slacks in this way I’ve never really experienced with anyone before. Hearing him say that is exciting. Sex has always been this awkward thing that never made me feel as wild as it did everyone else.

“We’re getting off sex here—track— off-track . Same thing, I guess, since the track is sex, but you know what I mean. It works. You like my cum, and I want to hook up with random guys, but since that didn’t work, maybe I can try it with one random guy over and over again.” My logic is flawed, but I’m hoping he doesn’t call me on it. All this makes sense in my head.

“I do have a game tomorrow.”

“See? It’s perfect!” Only this is the dumbest idea I’ve ever had in my life, and his weird theory about my cum and his game is all in his head.

“And you do have a great cock.”

I can’t help wondering why no one else has ever seemed to think that, but I’m not stupid enough to call out my flaws to him. If he wants to think my dick is great, I’m all for it.

“I did consider trying to find you to test it out again…”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who did the actual stalking. I only considered it.”

“I didn’t stalk you.” But really, I kinda did.

He smirks.

“Ugh. You know what? Never mind. This was a mistake.” I shove to my feet and take a few steps before Rylan materializes in front of me, a muscular, soap-scented wall. He holds my face in his calloused hands and tilts my head up, and my dick twitches.

“You want to have sex with me.”

I roll my eyes, but if he stepped just a little closer, he would feel the proof of that rubbing against him. “I was considering it, but not anymore.”

“Well…just so you know…I would be interested if you still are. But only if you’re sure because—”

“Yes.”

Rylan grins.

“Ugh. You’re so annoying!”

“I’m charming.”

He is, and that’s what makes him annoying, but I keep that tidbit to myself. Charming is…not good. I will not fall for charming. Not now or ever again.

“Hey. What did I say? Your jaw just tensed.”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” It’s embarrassing enough that he knows what happened to me, that he was there that night, and—nope. I’m not going to let Malcolm ruin this for me. “I want to suck dick and I’m going to, damn it!”

“I’m certainly not going to argue with you,” Rylan replies, and really, I should probably be a little more careful not to speak my thoughts out loud. It’s always been a problem for me, but it seems to happen more around Rylan.

“Okay, so…”

“Let’s go to my room.”

“Wait. Your room?” I assumed we would just do it right here. His bedroom seems more personal.

“Do you have an issue with my room? My lube is in there, and I was thinking I might get a finger or two with my blowjob.”

My dick is getting awfully twitchy down there. I shouldn’t be surprised he wants that. In my limited experience, ass play is one of the best things ever, but I’ve never been with a guy who wanted me to do the playing. “You’re a bottom?”

“I’m vers. Mostly top, but I do like my ass played with.”

“I’ve never…”

His nose wrinkles up like he’s really working hard to sort through something in his head. “You don’t have to if you don’t want, but—”

“I like it when you’re excited to have sex with me. Shut up and lead me to your room.”

“Bossy Harry is back.”

“Hayes.”

“Hayes.” It’s not the first time he’s used my name today, but he acts like he’s still getting used to it on his tongue. “It’s cute like you.”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to sweet-talk me. This was my idea, remember? Now are we doing this or not?”

Rylan grins, and it makes me a little weak in the knees.

“We’re doing this.”

He takes my hand, and I follow.

Rylan’s room is upstairs, a huge open space with a large sliding glass door and a balcony with a view of the ocean. It’s decorated in whites and light blues, a breezy, beachy look that surprises me coming from a tough, cocky, professional sports player.

He pulls off his shirt, and I try not to whimper at the sight of all that flawless, golden skin stretched across the kind of muscles I’ll never have.

Rylan grabs lube from his nightstand, then tugs off his joggers and underwear before flopping onto his back on the bed. My eyes immediately shoot to his ridiculously thick cock, and he chuckles as he gives it a slow stroke.

“Shut up,” I tell him.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but you laughed because—”

“Your eyes say it all, cutie. You like my cock.”

“Oh my God. There’s something wrong with you.” I remove my shoes, trying to keep my eyes averted from said erection while he lies there, knowing how good he looks, and clearly not shy about being naked in front of others.

I take my time, a little more nervous to get naked in front of him this time than I was before. Nerves twist up my gut as I start with my shirt, then move to my pants, unbuttoning them as I feel Rylan’s gaze on me.

“You should put on a sexy strip show for me,” he says, making my head snap in his direction.

“Have you met me?”

He laughs. “I have a feeling you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re hot. You can wiggle your hips and poke out your ass for me while you get undressed.”

“Never gonna happen.”

“Fine, then just get naked and come here.”

That sounds good to me.

I hurry out of the rest of my clothes, cock bobbing and leaking as I rush to the bed. Rylan takes my hand and pulls me on top of him. I go easily—I’m a smart guy like that—and don’t stop until I’m straddling him. Rylan wraps one of his big hands around the back of my head and pulls me down, taking my mouth with his.

Like last time, I’m surprised that we kiss. I figured he’d want to get straight to the sex and then say our goodbyes, but instead, he’s sweeping the inside of my mouth with his tongue, one hand tangled in my hair and the other making a journey up and down my back.

It’s enough to make me melt into him. There was no kissing my first sexual experience, and the second was sloppy and weird. Malcolm and I kissed, of course, but he didn’t put his full body into it the way Rylan does, didn’t act like it was just as important as the main event, but rather a way to get from point A to point B.

I rut against him, feel his hard, hot length against my shaft, and already my body begins to tingle. Rylan nibbles at my bottom lip, kisses his way down my throat, then makes the journey back up to my mouth again, hands still caressing, dicks still kissing, and God , does this man know how to have sex.

I jerk back, and his eyes go wide.

“Is something wrong?”

“We have to stop, or I’m gonna come before I get to suck your cock.” And I really, really want to suck it again. There was something so empowering about it last time. Something that made me feel a hundred feet tall, knowing that every sound he made, every reaction he had, was because of me and my mouth.

“Quick trigger, huh?”

“Ha-ha.” I stare at him, momentarily frozen. My hands are on the pecs I can’t stop admiring, and then he flexes them, and my cock throbs while I roll my eyes. “Stop that.”

“Stop what? I didn’t do anything. Oh, you mean stop showing you how big and strong I am?” I move my hands away, and he makes his pecs bounce again with incredible skill.

“I’m gonna leave.”

“I thought you were gonna get between my legs and drain my balls?”

Heat flares in my gut, even though I’d like nothing more than for that to not be my response. Cocky men aren’t hot, cocky men aren’t hot, cocky men aren’t hot.

Who am I kidding? We all know that’s a lie.

And he does have a great dick.

“Ugh. Fine.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, making me stop while I’m kissing my way down the wide expanse of his chest. I like that consent is important to him. It might be one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. I’ve never known someone who was so particular about it before, but it should be something everyone does.

I don’t look at him, just keep kissing my way down, down, down, as I tell him, “I want.” The truth is, I probably want too much. I should take advantage of a superhot guy wanting to sleep with me while I have the chance. There’s no guarantee it will happen again.

I lick his abs because really, how can I not? They’re too good to be real, and I was never the type of guy who cared about someone’s body before. I still don’t, not really, but they’re right there , and I’m very interested in them. A man can try something new, right?

Rylan runs his fingers through my short hair, holding the back of my head as I pretend there’s a mess on his stomach I must clean up with my tongue. I taste precum and maybe some sweat, and all it does is make me hungry for more.

When I settle between his legs, I take a moment to appreciate his cock. Is it bigger? That can’t be true, but I’m struck again by how thick he is. How full his huge balls get, and the veins in his cock, and how flushed it gets when it’s swollen and throbbing.

My erection pulses in response, achy and needy. As soon as I blow him, he’s going to blow me. It’s like my favorite holiday if I had one.

“Lick it,” Rylan instructs, and while it’s my instinct to argue with him, I’m hungry for his dick too, so I pretend it’s my idea, lean forward, and swipe my tongue along his thick shaft the way I’d been doing to his stomach moments before. “Fuuuuuck,” Rylan groans.

I lap at his balls, suck them, then go back to his cock again. I never know if I’m doing a good job or not, but Rylan’s fist tightens in my hair and he’s moaning and saying my name, so I take that as a good sign.

I suck his crown into my mouth. Hold the base of his dick, feel the heat radiate off his shaft and through my skin. I bob on him, my lips stretching to accommodate him, and there’s something incredibly sexy about that, about having to work to take him, about the way I choke when he goes too deep, but all that makes me want is to take him deeper, to do better so I can taste his thick load sliding down my throat.

And okay, also because I want to be the best cocksucker he’s ever had.

“God. Fuck yes. Keep going,” Rylan urges, which makes the spark of desire inside me flare even more.

I try to take him deeper, gag on him again, my lips stinging slightly from the stretch, and…what if he wants to fuck me? Wait. No. What am I thinking? This thing we’re doing won’t go that far.

“My hole,” he reminds me, and oh yeah, I forgot. I’m definitely not good at this. I shouldn’t be forgetting to play with his ass.

“Ouch,” I say when the bottle of lube accidentally hits me in the head.

Rylan chuckles, and I have to fight not to do the same. I pull off him and pump some lube into my hand. He spreads his legs wider, and I know I’m supposed to move, but I just don’t. I’m…holy fuck. I’m about to finger a hockey player’s ass. What world is this?

“Something wrong?” he asks.

“Nope. Everything is fine here,” I say because it is. I can totally do this. I can be good at sucking his dick and fingering him.

I slip a finger between his ass cheeks, rubbing the tight rim. Rylan makes a breathy sound that somehow thrums through me, while I continue rubbing his hole.

I lick his cock while I push my finger inside. His tight ass opens up for me, squeezing my digit, his body so damn hot inside. I might be whimpering. I don’t even know. I think I am, and I’m not proud of that, but I can’t help it.

“So good,” he tells me, arching his body as I work my way deeper, then pull back some before pushing forward again. “And it’ll be even better with my dick in your mouth.”

I’m pretty sure that’s a gentle reminder, but the truth is, I was so distracted by his ass that I did forget to blow him too.

I keep fucking him with my finger as I take him into my mouth. I don’t work him as deep as I did before because it’s hard to focus on doing that and keeping up a good pace at fingering him.

Rylan holds my head again, urges me on, touches my cheek, and closes his eyes, thrusting slightly. Every time I rub his prostate, I feel a tremor run through him.

I’m fucking awesome at this. Malcolm totally missed out not letting me do this to him.

I work on taking him deeper, fit another finger inside him, thrusting and sucking. His muscles tighten, mumbled words falling past his lips, and then, “Fuck. Gonna come.”

I don’t stop, want to swallow it all, want Rylan’s cum in my belly, which isn’t something I’ve ever actively wanted with anyone else before.

His dick twitches in my mouth, spurts a whole lot of jizz, to the point that I almost suck it down the wrong pipe and die. But instead, I manage to swallow it all until he relaxes so completely, it looks like he’s going to sink into the mattress beneath me.

“God, I needed that. You have a great fucking mouth.” He smirks at me.

“Yeah, well, wait until you get my magic cum again. I hear it’s extra special.”

My chest puffs out a little as Rylan laughs.