“Did you really say you were gonna blow me and ride my dick?” I blurted.
Sky flashed a slow-growing wicked grin. The kind that instantly made my jeans feel a size too small. “I did.”
“Do you like…that? I mean, being the guy who…”
“Gets fucked?” he offered. He pointed at my water bottle when I started coughing before adding, “I love it.”
“Do you ever do it the other way? If we’re theoretically doing this, are you gonna want to fuck me? ’Cause, I can tell you right now, I’m not ready for that.”
“You know, for a badass, you’re kinda dramatic,” Sky said with a laugh. “I’m versatile, but I prefer to bottom.”
“Bottom,” I repeated.
“Top or bottom. If your dick is in my ass, you’re the top. Doesn’t mean you’re in charge. It’s just slang.”
“Got it.” I nodded like I knew what was going on, then shook my head…because I didn’t. “Are we doing this? Or did we decide we’re just talking? I can’t remember.”
Sky snickered. “I think we planned on doing something. But we can go slow.”
“Slow as in…a hand job or a blowjob?”
“Or both.”
“Okay. That sounds…good.” I pursed my lips and willed my cock to behave.
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes, no. I don’t know what I want. But you’re here now and…”
“Do you want me to go?” he asked softly.
“No. Stay. If nothing else, we can turn on ESPN, eat salad, drink beer, and scratch our nuts.”
Sky threw his head back and laughed. “Okay. So, what’d you tell Elliot that made him leave you advice and a rubber?”
“I didn’t tell him anything. He has a warped sense of humor. I’m sure he thinks I’m home alone playing Fortnite. Do you play video games? ’Cause we can play something if you want or—”
“Maybe later. Let’s just talk.”
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“Hockey. What position do you play?” Sky asked, peeling the label off his water bottle.
“Right wing. Forward. Think of soccer where the front line moves the ball down the field. We do the same with the puck.”
“I know how it works. I’ve watched a lot of hockey.”
“Really? Have you ever played?”
“No. Baseball was always number one for me. Besides, hockey is kind of…rough. There’s always a fight. And the game moves so fast, it’s hard to see the puck sometimes.”
“Not if you pay attention.” I raised my water bottle in a mock toast and grinned. “And I like it rough.”
Sky pursed his lips and stared at me…or maybe he was staring at my throat. I couldn’t tell. “Me too. But not on the field. It distracts from the game.”
“In hockey, it’s part of the game. If you can’t defend yourself, your teammates, and the ice, you have no right to be out there. Might as well take up ice dancing or something,” I snarked, only half kidding. “And no offense, but ice dancing is a hell of a lot more entertaining than baseball. Trust me, I know. I played Little League for a couple of years. I used to beg the coach not to put me in the outfield. Geez, you could take a fuckin’ nap out there some days, you know?”
Sky laughed. “Fuck you. You obviously don’t know what you’re talking about. Baseball is a game of strategy.”
“Strategy my ass,” I huffed, smiling to take the sting from my words…even though I kinda meant it. “It’s one of those weird sports where everyone gets pumped when nothing happens. Oh, it’s a no-hitter. That’s amazing. Sure…but nothing fuckin’ happened! No one hit the ball, no one rounded the bases, no one slid to home plate. No one had to even wash their damn uniforms! And you know why?”
“Why?”
“ ’Cause nothin’ fuckin’ happened,” I replied, taking a long sip of my beer as I let the sweet sound of Sky’s laughter wash over me.
God, he had a great laugh and a good sense of humor. It made me like him a little more.
“That just proves baseball players are smarter than hockey players,” he taunted.
“Said no one anywhere ever.” I held my hands up in surrender when he flipped me off. “Hey, I’m kidding. I like baseball fine. I told you I follow the Tigers. I still have the jersey my dad bought me when I was ten. Dude, I’d wear it if I still fit in it. What’s your position?”
“Shortstop. I’ve played almost every position at one time or another, but I like it the best. You gotta be quick, have a strong arm, and good instincts. I also have a long wingspan. That helps.”
“Makes sense. I don’t know about wingspan, but you gotta be lightning-fast in hockey too with quick reflexes. Big ol’ quads help.” I smacked my thighs and chuckled. “Mine are kinda huge.”
Sky gave me a lopsided smile. “I noticed. It’s hot.”
“You think muscular legs are hot?”
“I do. Believe it or not, it wasn’t your sweet personality that made me look twice. It was your thighs.”