“You know, there are people you can pay to drive your car to Boston for you.”
“I don’t mind the drive. Besides, my Porsche is my baby.” He hits a key fob, and the lights of a Porsche Cayenne flash.
Sleek black, all the extras … it might not be the sexiest Porsche out there, but it’s still impressive.
I act unfazed. “Eh, my G-Wagon has more room. Your back seat doesn’t look spacious enough to do sex acrobatics.”
“We’re not teenagers. We’re not having sex in the back of a car.”
I tsk him. “Live a little. Spice it up.”
We drop our gear bags into the back seat, and they take up nearly the entire space.
“See? Not big enough.” I slide into the passenger seat, while he gets behind the wheel.
He turns to me. “Okay, if we’re doing this again, I think we need some rules.”
“I’m not good at those.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Hey, I only visited the sin bin once tonight, thank you very much.”
Anton slow claps. “How many times was I in there? Oh wait, none.”
“Of course Perfect Anton Hayes wouldn’t ever be caught dead in a sin bin. Oh, the horror of breaking the rules!”
“Rule number one. No talking.” He pulls out of the parking lot and heads for his apartment.
“At all? Or during sex? Because I can’t not be vocal during sex, so that has to be vetoed.”
Anton glares at me.
“Oh, so, like, now. Got it.” I’m not used to rules—the lack of respect I had for my father meant I broke the few he tried to give me, until he didn’t bother anymore. I should be telling Anton to go to hell with his bossing me around, but I think I like it.
I shut my mouth, but I don’t do well with silence.
My fingers tap my leg, my cock strains behind my fly, and even though this car is a smooth ride and the leather seats are nice, I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life.
I shift, trying to stop the ache between my legs.
Anton’s eyes are lazily focused on the road, but I can’t help noticing the tent in his suit pants too.
How is it possible to hate each other as much as we do, but the thought of getting naked with him is like a direct hit of electricity to my balls?
Anton’s apartment isn’t far from the arena, but it’s still too long for me to deal with silence and not occupy myself with something else, so I lean closer to him and reach across to run my hand up his thigh.
His legs are so powerful and thick. They have to be for how fast he is on the ice.
“What are you doing?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road.
I mime locking my lips.
“Fucking smartass.” But despite his words, he widens his thighs.
I inch my hand higher and rub over the bulge in his pants.
He lets out a heavy breath. “Are you trying to make us crash?”
“Apparently the only time I can talk is if we’re having sex, so I figure if I jerk you off, I can say anything while my hand is on your dick.” I go for his fly, but my seat belt holds me back, so I unclick it and then have better access to undo Anton’s pants.
Anton catches my hand. “Seriously?”
“Come on, break the road rules with me. Live on the dark side. Step outside the box and have mind-blowing sex outside of the bedroom for once. Who knew you were so vanilla?”
He side-eyes me quickly before focusing back on the road. “If I remember correctly, we had some damn hot sex up against a wall not that long ago.”
“Whoa, wild child, settle down. Ten feet outside the bedroom is too crazy.”
“I’m starting to think the no-talking rule should be a constant thing.” He releases my hand so he can put on the turn signal, and I don’t waste time in taking his cock out.
I’m surprised when he lets me.
“Do you want my hand or my mouth?”
“Jesus.” His grip tightens on the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white.
“I don’t think I can get Jesus for you, but I do get the impression you want my mouth. You just don’t want to ask for it.”
Anton’s lips purse.
“Oh, how the tables have turned. You wanted me to beg, and now you need to.” I stroke his cock from tip to base, and he shudders. “Tell me to suck you off.”
A strained noise comes from the back of his throat, and then he reaches to cup my face and run his thumb over my bearded cheek. “I want to fuck this mouth.” His thumb moves across my lips. “Give me what I want.”
The urge to refuse is strong for no other reason than to leave him hanging and to be an asshole, but the way I let down a tiny bit of my guard by saying please, he’s doing the same right now.