"Sounds ideal," my dinner companion said. I lowered my glass. His expression had softened. "My dad drank a lot but paid for equipment. Mom didn't have time to do the hockey mom thing what with all the praying and repenting she did."
"Sorry," I softly said. His sad green eyes hardened instantly.
"Whatever." He backed into a dark emotional cave that I didn't dare enter. We ate in complete silence. I paid our bill plus his from his previous visit, and then I loaded him into another cab. A block away from the Purple Dragon, he silently reached over and palmed my dick. I jerked at the contact then shoved his hand from my crotch. Rocket sighed theatrically, but kept his hands to himself until we were inside my loft. After we stepped through my door, I didn't slap his hand away once.
Four
"SOMEONE MAKES BIG bucks playing hockey," he said, his eyes gently touching on everything in my loft. "I might have to raise my rates."
"I'll pay whatever." Yes, I know how pathetic that sounded. It was sad and disgustingly true. I would have signed a check for the two point four million I make per year in a heartbeat.
He lowered his gaze from the picture of me with the team that hung over the fireplace.
"Why are you hiding being gay" Rocket asked. I chose not to reply. He took me by the hand. "Which way?"
I whispered where we needed to go, his sexy lips making it difficult for me to think. We paused outside the gym. His gaze moved over the equipment, his fingers tightening just a bit around my wrist.
"Sorry, I meant the other left," I said, my voice thick. His emerald eyes shuttered some unfriendly emotion. Even though his lips pulled up into an appealing smile, his brow was still furrowed.
"Makes me wonder how you can find the net as often as you do," he purred, the playful Rocket back once again. It was hard to keep up with the way his expressions and emotions changed. He was like a chameleon. "Bet you have a shower with about ten heads, huh?"
"Only four," I commented as he tugged me from the gym into my bedroom. I flipped on the light.
"Holy shit, hockey pays good," he whispered as he took in my favorite room in the whole place. His hold on me slackened. I enjoyed watching his face as his gaze touched on the solid wall of glass that overlooked Gramercy Park. The other buildings that surrounded the little oasis of nature were lit up as well. I sat on the edge of my bed to remove my sneakers as Rocket padded softly to a large pane of thick glass and pressed his palms and nose to the window. "So what do you pay for this place? Like, two grand a month?"
I looked up from tugging off my left shoe. "It's not important."
"Oh yeah, I think it is," Rocket countered, looking from the city to me. "I may triple my rates." I really didn't want to talk about money. It was starting to make this feel dirty. I lifted a shoulder in reply. My date rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the view. "I used to dream about living in a place like this when I first come to New York."
"It's just a place," I said as my sneaker hit the thick white rug that my bed and nightstands sat on. "This is just a bed." I punched the thick mattress. The black wrought-iron headboard and footboard never uttered a sound. "And I'm just a guy who likes to play with sticks and pucks." He gave me a pained look. I then realized how condescending what I had just said probably sounded to someone who slept on park benches. "Sorry," I murmured. He shrugged my ignorance away as the irritation left his face.
"You're about as far from being just a guy as I am from being able to play Rocket Man on harmonica.
"Is that the song your mom named you after?" I fell back to the bed, feet dangling to the floor and hands clasped behind my head.
"Good guess." He appeared behind me after a moment. I tipped my head back to look at him. My cock throbbed painfully. His green eyes were darker now, smoky jade and hot with desire. "You're really sexy in a Toby McGuire Spider-Man kind of way."
"I don't have any superpowers," I replied as he leaned over and placed his hands on either side of my head.
"Not true," Rocket whispered before covering my mouth with his. My eyes drifted shut as my fingers knotted up the bedding. His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue skilled, his taste a subtle blend of Korean buffet. "You're Riley Zeally," he murmured between nibbling kisses that made my heart pump faster, "the face of professional hockey."
I reached up from the duvet to push my fingers into his hair. "I want you," I panted between his short, maddening sweeps of my mouth. "Take off your shoes," I said when he wiggled out of my grip to climb onto the bed. I heard his sneakers hit the floor, one and then the other.
"Man, this is plush," Rocket laughed then fell face first into the thick mattress. The bed barely bounced. I rolled to my side. I just had to touch him. My hand came to rest on his back. Rocket picked up his head. Long strands of honey-colored hair hung over his eyes. He moved to lie on his side as well. "I might not ever leave," he whispered then tugged me down for another kiss. I tossed a leg over him. My cock rubbed over a hipbone. It took all I had not to come right then. Rocket began moving under me as his tongue swirled around mine.
His hands slid under my shirt. I sat back and pulled it over my head. Rocket placed his palms to my chest. His hands rose and fell rapidly. I watched in fascination as he began massaging my pectorals roughly. My cock jumped each time a finger moved over a nipple.
"How do you want me?" he asked breathlessly. I was glad to see, and feel, that he was a hot for this as I was. It made it seem less business-like and more personal.
"On your back so I can watch you," I said, dropping down to take another kiss, then another, and then more than I could count. I tugged madly on his clothes, popping a few seams on his long-sleeved tee in my haste to get him naked. When he was nude, I took a moment to enjoy his masculine beauty. He was far too thin for his height. His ribs and hipbones jutted out as he lay on his back, reveling in the feel of the dark gray thousand-count Egyptian sheets. There was power locked in his muscles, you could see it when he moved, but he needed groceries badly. I tentatively reached out to trace the deep valley of his hipbone. "You are really pretty," I told him as my finger danced over his stomach to his navel.
"I bet you say that to all the hustlers you pick up," he sighed, his eyes shut and his expression one of sheer bliss. I took his cock in hand. His back arched up off the bed. The urge to slip deep inside him was too much. "Yeah, get inside me."
I lunged for the bedside table. Lube and condoms lay neatly beside the remote for the TV that hung on the wall. I extracted the necessities then rolled back to Rocket. He ran his fingers over my stomach, his touch searing my skin as I knelt between his spread thighs. I tore open the foil square and rolled the condom over me. It was sheer torture to put that condom on with Rocket spread out under me, his breathing elevated, his eyes glowing like fiery emeralds, and his long prick weeping and erect.
I rubbed my slippery fingers together. Rocket smiled wantonly then wrapped a leg around my waist. I toyed with his opening for a moment, teasing him and myself. His body shuddered when I pushed two fingers into him. My balls tightened when his inner muscles contracted around my fingers. My breathing was so rapid I was feeling lightheaded. I probed deeper, curling my fingers until I found his sweet spot.
"Oh fuck yeah," Rocket cried out then fisted his cock. I tugged my fingers out of him then took my prick in hand and positioned myself. "Come on, Riley, fucking give it to me," he ground out as he pumped his cock roughly. With a flick of my hips, I was inside him. My eyelids fell down as I pulled back then thrust deeper. Rocket whimpered something— I don't know what. My mind kind of disengaged and allowed my body to work automatically. With his ankles in my hands, I proceeded to fuck the living shit out of him. He came loudly just a second or two before my own violently beautiful orgasm.
"Shit, oh shit," I huffed and shuddered as my spine bowed.
"Fuck, you're deep," Rocket whined. I held him in place until the last of the tremors subsided. Then, feeling ashamed for taking him so roughly, I released his legs and pulled out, not
able to look him in the face. "It's okay," he whispered when I moved from him to sit on the edge of the bed, my cock quickly deflating. "I like it hard."
I glanced over my shoulder. He was a mess, hair tangled, semen drying on the fine golden hairs on his chest, sated green eyes, and a smile that would make a fool like me believe anything he wanted me to believe. He nodded gently then reached up. I allowed him to pull me back to his mouth after I took care of the used condom. I needed to make sure I dumped the trashcan beside the bed before Annie, the housekeeper, showed up tomorrow morning.
"You want to stay the night?" I asked between tender caresses and increasingly hotter kisses.
"Better than sleeping at my place," he replied then pushed me to my back and wiggled on top of me. He sat up straight, tossed his hair from his face, and then began to move his hips like a belly dancer. His stomach muscles rolled under his skin. His balls cradled my semi-erect cock. "Maybe I'll dance for you tonight," he teased as I stared at his prick getting fatter with each gyration of his lean hips. "Or maybe I'll just let you fuck me again."
I never did get to see Rocket dance.
Five
BRILLIANT WINTER SUN warmed my bare back. It felt good. I pushed a pillow away from my face and laid in my bed, the covers wadded up between my legs and my eyes closed, letting the warmth soak into my body. I was pleasantly sore. A twinge of a smile worked at my mouth then disappeared when I realized that my bed held only me.
Sitting up slowly, as if I had been drinking half the night, I ran my tongue over my mossy teeth and stared at the city. A battle broke out inside my head. One side told me to lie back down, enjoy the feeling of being well fucked. The other told me to get my ass out of bed and go see what the hustler had stolen.
As much as I hated myself, I kicked off the covers and went for my pants lying in a ball on the floor. I crouched down and lifted my wallet from where it haphazardly lay. I really didn't need to open it, but I did, just to drive the point home. All the cash I had been carrying last night was gone. It wasn't a fortune, only about five hundred bucks, but still…
"Well shit," I muttered as I straightened and turned to look out at Gramercy Park. I ping-ponged between wanting to scream, punch someone, or cry. I threw my wallet on my nightstand, pushed a button beside the first pane of glass to shutter the windows because now was a fucking great time to think of that, and then took a shower. As I stood under those four showerheads, I mulled over things.
The sex with Rocket had been like nothing that I had ever experienced. He had known just how to talk, walk, and stroke my body and ego until I was his for the taking. Except he hadn’t taken, I had, although he had been in the lead. It was confusing and glorious, the way he’d offered his body to me, spreading his long limbs over my big wide bed, his hips gyrating as he slithered over my comforter. There had been no wooing. He said it wasn't needed but I should have done it anyway. I should have treated him better and then maybe he would have still been here when I woke up.
Had I really expected Rocket to be here when I woke up? He had been upfront about things. It was nothing more than sex for cash. He had earned every penny of that five hundred he had lifted. Sure, my gay experiences were extremely limited, but that didn't detract from the incredible things that Rocket had done to me and for me. I had clearly read more into last night then I should have. I scrubbed at my chest harder, trying to scour away the tacky evidence of how far Riley Zeally had fallen.
I was dressed and sipping on a protein shake when Annie arrived. I had searched the apartment and nothing more than my carrying cash was missing. Annie gave me a smile as she took off her coat. I said something polite, asked about her grandkids I think, then grabbed my jacket and left her to it. She had been with me since I’d moved to New York. My mother had picked her out of about twenty applicants. Dad teased Mom that since I was gay, she didn't have to choose an old, chubby, rather dour housekeeper instead of the buxom chippies that had applied.
"She won't take any nonsense unlike the chippies who will only want to stir up nonsense," Mom had replied, effectively shutting my father and me up while ensuring that Annie had her position as long as my mother drew a breath. Mom didn't have much time for silly young women who chased famous hockey players. What would she think of young men that fucked famous hockey players for money?
I nodded dully at the door attendant who stood just inside the entrance to my building.
"You off to meet Mr. Otto at the Sassy Bagel like you do every day?" Norman asked as he tipped his hat at an older woman entering with her poodle. I smiled at one of my neighbors. She patted my arm and told me to score a goal for Miss Primrose the poodle.
"I'll do my best, Ma'am," I told her. That made her grin. She then told Norman that I was such a good boy. Yeah, that's me, good old reliable Riley. I left my neighbor, Miss Primrose, and Norman chatting. I needed some cold air, and I got some as soon as I hit the street. For some reason, I looked up and down 19th Avenue as if I would see Rocket waiting on the street corner for a bus. He was long gone; I needed to get that into my thick skull.
I turned into a nasty cold wind and bulled down the sidewalk, taking a left onto 5th Avenue. I spied Otto sitting at our usual table beside the steamy window as I neared the Sassy Bagel, an upscale tea and bagel shop that had just opened last year. Otto was trying to score with one of the girls who baked the bagels, unsuccessfully so far, so we had to have breakfast here every day. I secretly wished Monica, that was her name, would give in so I could eat something besides a bagel.
"You look like someone stole your dog," Otto said as I dropped into a tiny chair across from him. We both looked like gorillas forced to sit at a child's tea party set. The tables and chairs in here were petite little things, not made for holding hockey players. Yet, here we sat, sipping tea and nibbling on gourmet bagels.
"I hate this place," I grumbled. "It's all green and purple like a bruise."
"Aren't you the salty one today," Otto responded then shoved a cup of tea in my direction. "Drink that. It's supposed to make your Zen happy or some sort of bullshit."
"Did you ever notice that we're the only men in here, like, ever?" I pointed out as I stirred some sugar into my dark brown tea. Women filled every tiny table. Their steady chattering reminded me of the parrots at the Bronx Zoo.
"I'm trying not to let that get to me," Otto confessed then turned his attention from me to the slim black woman pulling bagels out of an oven behind the counter. I glanced at Monica, sighed dramatically, and then took a sip of my tea.
"This tastes like dishwater," I said into the cup but drank it, anyway. Otto stopped checking out Monica's bagels and gave me a sour look.
"What the hell is up your ass today?"
"I'm sick of waking up alone." It was out before I could catch it. My sight flew to Otto who merely nodded. I placed my tiny teacup back on its matching saucer. "I want to find someone who will be beside me when I wake up. I need someone who wants me, and not the face on the cover of all those sports magazines."
"I relate, I do," he said with as much compassion as he could muster. Otto had no interest at all in finding someone. It was all about the game for him, be it hockey or women. His gaze flickered back to Monica and her big hot bagels. That rather pissed me off because I was sharing some deeply intimate things with him and all he could do was fixate on tits.
"I took home a male hooker last night."
Otto's attention flew from the big ta-tas to me. I picked up my purple teacup and took a loud sip.
"You fucked a male prostitute?" Otto gasped. The women at the table next to us stopped making parrot noises to gape at us.
"Keep your voice down," I hissed at my teammate. He murmured some sort of apology then leaned as far over the tiny green table as he could without upsetting the thing. The women went back to their talk. No one had whipped out a cell phone to snap a picture and upload it to Twitter or Instagram, so I had to assume my secret was still safe.
"Sorry," Otto whispered, his face
tight with concern. "Are you fucking nuts, man? Do you have any idea how many diseases those pretty boys carry?"
"About the same as female prostitutes, and he isn't doing it anymore," I clarified, my smugness waning now that Otto had mentioned diseases. I hadn't even asked Rocket what his status was. "I know that doesn't mean much," I added to placate my friend. It didn't work.
"That doesn't mean one damn thing, Riley! He could still be positive. Man, please tell me that you used protection. You didn't kiss him, did you?"
"Okay, for starters yes I used protection; I'm not a fucking moron. Secondly, HIV is transmitted through blood, semen, or vaginal fluid, not saliva," I softly explained. The tight look on Otto's face didn't go away. "You can't get it from kissing."
"Why man? You could go to any gay club and get some. You're Riley Zeally."
I looked down into my teacup and gave the dregs a swirl hoping to see my future. All I found were a few limp leaves.
"Because fate, that's why," I said then realized how stupid that would sound to Otto. It sounded asinine to me in the light of day. "Because he had been hounding my thoughts," I glanced up from the bottom of my teacup. "It was the guy we saw at Rockefeller Center."
"I have not one clue who you are talking about. What guy?" Otto pushed his tea to the side to make room for our breakfast sandwiches. Monica flashed us a smile then walked off. Otto's eyes stayed on her ass until she went behind the counter. "Fuck, that is choice," he sighed then came back to me. "Sorry. That chick has me all sorts of flustered. I can't get her out of my damn head."
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