Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
This was a weird situation for me. I’d never had any issues getting a date or meeting willing partners, male or female. There was rarely any big discussion involved. A look, a touch, or a well-timed move usually signaled interest.
But Malcolm wasn’t like other people.
He was serious and earnest. He had big goals and a one-track mind. I’d never met anyone as focused and confident in their purpose. Malcolm had a road map built into his brain and a fuckload of patience. I admired him, and I didn’t dare do or say anything that would make him question my intentions.
I hadn’t agreed to this hockey education program with an ulterior motive. Not even close. I’d wanted a distraction, but this one had come with a supersized dose of “be careful what you ask for.”
Yeah, I was distracted all right. Very fucking distracted.
Between us, my dick ached from nightly jack-off sessions with visions of Malcolm on his knees, wrapping his fist around me with one hand and pushing his glasses along the bridge of his nose with the other before swallowing me whole. I’d stroke myself hard and fast, feet flat on the mattress, cupping my balls and teasing my crease till my orgasm caught me unaware. Then I’d resurface, panting, with cum on my chest and fingers, and tell myself that was it…the last time.
It never was. I was so fucking horny, I was losing my mind.
I’d hoped an hour on the ice after practice today would give me space and perspective, but so far that idea had backfired spectacularly.
First of all, Malcolm couldn’t skate for shit. He’d admitted that he hadn’t tried since his hockey fiasco fourteen years ago, but my theory was that he was rusty and nervous. The nervous part was what pulled him horizontal every time. He’d cling to my arm and then my hand, and eat it anyway. I’d help him to his feet only to have him lose his balance and fall all over again.
I didn’t doubt that his butt hurt. I’d bet it was red and cold, and the image of my hands kneading his cheeks did me dirty. So I skated away and hoped like hell I could come up with a Plan B.
“Yo, Jettster! Whatcha doin’ here?” Ty called out, Brady on his heels.
I glided to the boards and greeted my teammates, tipping my chin in Malcolm’s direction. “I’m helping my friend out with a science project. What are you two doing?”
Ty pulled his cell out. “Brady left his shit in his locker. I’m tagging along.”
Brady glanced toward Malcolm and did a double take. “That’s my physics TA. Maloney, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Is he wearing skates? Whoa. That’s trippy. I didn’t know you were friends with him. He’s kind of—” Brady’s eyes slid to mine and went wide. He clamped his mouth shut, blinking then sputtering. “He’s a good guy. Intense, but…nice.”
“Yeah, I think so too,” I replied. “I’m helping him run speed tests. If you see him around, be cool.”
“Yeah, yeah. Um…I’m gonna grab my stuff. Meet you outside, Ty.”
Ty grunted in acknowledgment, slipped his phone into his pocket, and scanned the deserted rink. He went comically still when he spotted Malcolm. “Hey, I remember that guy. He’s your stalker from the Depot.”
“He’s not a stalker, asshole. He asked for help, and I—”
“Whoa!” Ty held up his hands. “Relax. I didn’t say anything, man.”
“Good. Don’t.”
“I won’t,” he shot back.
“Good.”
“Great.”
I rolled my eyes. “I gotta go. I have class tonight and—why are you looking at me like that?”
“You like him.”
“We established that. His project is kind of interesting and—”
“You like him,” Ty repeated.
“Are you thirteen or something?”
Ty didn’t take the bait, and he knew me too well to be intimidated by an angry glare. “No wonder Tara was pissed. She didn’t know she had competition.”
“Fuck off. It’s not like that,” I growled.
“Hey, I’m on your side. You do you. Just be careful. Something tells me he’s not like us.”
To be honest, that was fair. I glanced at Malcolm, shimmying one blade on the ice while hanging on to the boards. A smile tugged at my mouth without my permission. I couldn’t figure out what it was about this guy that got to me, but I wouldn’t deny that I liked him…a lot.
Ty wasn’t the type to judge, anyway. Nope, my buddy was an unrepentant hedonist. “Work hard, play harder” was his motto. I suspected we weren’t the only queer guys on the team, but I couldn’t confirm that and it didn’t matter. It wasn’t my business. We both knew that not everyone else was as open-minded.
I had my reasons for staying in the closet, same as Ty. I wanted to go pro, and I didn’t want my sexuality to be part of the conversation.
Malcolm wouldn’t understand. He was an out and proud scientist, a teacher, and an intellectual. I was just a jock with a pie-in-the-sky dream. Flirty text messages and stolen looks over hockey notes was all I’d get from him.