Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Not going to happen.” Lane pushes past me. “And while I’m here, your rules are void. I make the rules from now on.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Rule number one: no calling me daddy.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He already looks like he wants to kill me.
“Okay, fine, I won’t call you daddy. But I’m not calling you Mr. Pierce either.”
“Lane is fine. If you put some goddamn clothes on.”
I pick up my sweats and pull them back on. “Better?”
“Rule number two: clothes consist of pants and a shirt.”
It’s my turn to sigh. “We really are going back to kindergarten rules, aren’t we?”
“You act like a child, I will treat you like one.”
“If you treat me like one, I’ll act like one.” I stomp up the staircase like a pissed-off teenager, but I’m already having fun.
I go to pull out a team shirt when I remember I have some mesh tank tops for when I go out. I pull out a black one that has a rip in it from an overeager plaything I hooked up with once and throw it over my head. It’s technically a shirt.
When I walk back downstairs, Lane’s head is in his phone, so I stand at the bottom and wait for him to take in the view. It doesn’t take long. Only this time, he does actually roll his eyes. But there’s something else there. Something that says he doesn’t want to like my antics but can’t help himself.
“It’s an improvement, I’ll give you that.”
“I think you’re the first man to ever prefer me in clothes. I’m trying to work out if I should be insulted or flattered.”
“Flattered?” Lane asks.
“Well, yeah. The only reason I can think of why you’d want me to cover up is because you’re too worried about resisting my charms.”
“If being naked is the only charm you have, we won’t have a problem.”
I chuckle. “Damn. You have willpower of steel.”
“Or, you’re not as loveable as you think you are.”
“Everyone loves me.”
“Must be nice.”
“Being so adored? It is.”
“No, I mean living in a world full of delusion. Now, where is my bedroom?”
“Right this way.” I turn on my heel and run back upstairs, waiting for him to catch up. “I put you right next to me so you can keep an eye on me and make sure I’m not being a naughty boy.”
“Works for me. Shorter distance to walk to kick out random hookups.”
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to hook up? Ooh, does this mean you’ll come to my rescue when they won’t leave the next day? Once they’ve had a taste of me, they never want to stop drinking from the fountain.”
Lane blinks at me.
“My dick. They want to always suck my dick.”
He lets out a loud breath. “I’m starting to see why you’ve been through so many PR reps already.”
“Aww, you say such sweet things to me. We’ll be fucking each other before you know it.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I actually know how to keep a professional distance.”
“That sounds like a challenge to me.”
“Of course it does. I’m going to settle in and unpack a few things. Why don’t you go jerk off or something? You’re going to have to get used to having sex with only your hand for a while.”
Hmm, that actually sounds like a good idea. I touch my chest. “Moving in. Asking me not to have sex with anyone else. You want to be my boyfriend that badly?”
“Wrong B-word. I’m your babysitter because you don’t know how to keep it in your pants. If chastity belts were still a thing, I’d be buying you one.”
“You know, they have cock cages for that now. Kinky. I like having a boyfriend who’s kinky.”
Lane starts muttering to himself, but I can’t understand what he’s saying.
“What are you doing?”
“Reminding myself that I love my job and I can’t hurt you because prison isn’t fun.”
I laugh. “We’re right on schedule, then.”
“Speaking of schedules, you need to give me yours for All-Stars week coming up, seeing as you’re not going.”
“I’m flying to Boston to hang out with my boys.” Anton and Foster won’t be there because they are playing for All-Stars, but the rest of the Queer Collective will be, and I can’t wait. I love All-Stars week. Especially when I’m not chosen. It’s like I get an extra week to recoup and fuck around while everyone there has to work.
Not that hockey is work. Well, it is. It’s a lot of hard work, but given the choice to do anything else? Hell no. Hockey is my life. But by this point in the season, we’re all ready for a break, and anyone who says otherwise is lying.
“Please tell me ‘your boys’ is not a code word for a weeklong orgy with twinks.”
I whistle. “Damn, I wish, but no. I’m hanging out with the other queerios from the Collective.”
“The Collective? Tell me the truth. Are you in a cult?”