Sass Queen (The Rainbow League Book 2)

by Laurie Lochs

  Sass Queen

  A Contemporary Enemies-to-Lovers M/m Romance

  Laurie Lochs

  Copyright © 2020 by Laurie Lochs

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  1

  Mitch

  "Jesus, Mitch. I think you’ve got the biggest one on the team."

  My eyes shot open as I glanced at Brent in the middle of the locker room. He was forking a mouthful of dick-shaped rainbow cake into his mouth and grinning from ear-to-ear. By his side, his beautiful boyfriend Jacob was laughing like a maniac.

  I couldn't help but roll my eyes. My slice of victory cake was big, but no way in hell was it the biggest slice on the team.

  "When a gay bitch like me leads a fucking hockey team to victory in his free time,” I said with a grin, "I think he deserves a big ass slice of rainbow cake. But there’s no fucking way it’s the biggest on the team.”

  Brent burst into laughter. "I'm just saying. It's bigger than mine, for goddamn sure."

  I gritted my teeth. In any other circumstance, this wouldn't be a contest I’d want to lose. But I was on a fucking diet, and no way in hell was Brent — or anyone else, for that matter — going to tease me about biting off more than I could chew. Without another word, I grabbed my slice of dick-shaped rainbow sprinkle cake from the bench, walked to Brent's side, and stuck it in his face, right under his nose so he could see.

  "Want to compare, smart ass?”

  Brent surveyed the two slices side-by-side. His face fell when he saw that his, in fact, was one inch larger than mine.

  “At least yours has more frosting.” Brent rolled his eyes. “The boys are going to love to see that.”

  “Don’t be mad, honey,” I said, sashaying back to my spot on the bench, where I immediately dropped my boxers and started changing into my referee uniform. “My cake might be smaller, but my cock’s the biggest of all.”

  Suddenly, our center Stellan walked through the door. He was smirking and showing off his brand-new Rainbow League jersey. The Rainbow League was the name of the gay hockey team — this hockey team — I refereed on the weekends, the one I'd just led to victory against the fiercest LGBT team in the league.

  We were officially the number one hockey team in the Twin Cities.

  The locker room burst into applause as Stellan entered and flexed.

  "It's the sexiest center in the entire Midwest," Brent’s totally femme boyfriend Jacob shouted gleefully.

  Stellan rolled his eyes. “I doubt I’m the sexiest. But I’ll fight anyone who tries to take my crown for Fiercest Bitch on the League.”

  I hurried into my referee uniform and cut a slice of dick cake for Stellan. He kissed me on the cheek and began to devour it at once.

  Brian, one of our defensemen, couldn't help but comment on our apparent display of affection. “Jesus,” he said, bringing his freshly manicured fingers to his face. “Are Mitch and Stellan… A thing?”

  I choked on laughter. “Oh honey. Stellan wishes he could get with me.”

  Stellan choked on laughter. “Oh please,” he said, rolling his eyes and gesturing to his toned hulk-like body. “You’re really telling me you don’t see anything you like?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’ve got pecs, sure. But if you wanna get with this queen, you’ll need a little more ass.”

  Stellan groaned. “I've got more ass than you can handle, honey.”

  "I may be femme, but this bitch needs junk in the trunk on her man. God didn't give me this giant stick for nothing.”

  I grabbed a hockey stick from the wall and pretended to jerk off. The team applauded wildly and howled with laughter.

  Like the rest of the team, Stellan knew I was an unconventional gay by any measure. While most sassy queens like me wanted a man to dominate them in the bedroom, I wanted anything but. On the rink, I led the boys to victory. In the bedroom, I liked a sexy man beneath me, twisting and moaning as I bred his thick juicy ass.

  I was a rare breed, what sexologists might someday refer to as a “femme top.”

  I set the glossy hockey stick down and grabbed another slice of cake. It was in the shape of a dick, because of course it was. The pink frosting and rainbow sparkles added an extra gay touch. We'd bought it as a joke, mostly because we didn't think we'd actually win. But to eat it after tasting the sweetness of victory?

  It was fucking everything, honey.

  And though I was full of carbs, I sure as fuck wasn’t going to turn down a second slice.

  "Who wants dick?" I asked jokingly, cutting the foreskin off the top.

  Jacob, my best friend on the team, burst into laughter as he watched me circumcise the defenseless cake. "You can keep the shaft. Just give me the biggest ball you can find."

  I grinned. After handing Jacob his enormous frosting-coated testicle, I downed a bite and let the taste of victory wash over my mouth. I couldn't believe we'd won. It was so much sweeter considering I only reffed the Rainbow League part time. During the day, I was one of the only full-time employees at the Care Center, the sweetest, most efficient, and most underfunded LGBT youth nonprofit in the Twin Cities. The Center was my passion, existence, and more or less my life. Though I love coaching and fucking around with the guys, working with troubled youth was where my heart was.

  It was a thankless fucking job. But I knew I was making a difference, one sassy troubled kid at a time.

  As we finished eating, Liam — the man who'd founded the Rainbow League along with his boyfriend Xavier five months ago, who was also Jacob’s brother — cleared his throat to make an announcement.

  "Congratulations, everyone. I'm sure you're all just as surprised as me that we won. We’re fierce as hell, but we’re not exactly a winning team.”

  Liam set his cake on the bench and continued. "It's the perfect time to announce that I have a friend joining next week. He's played hockey his entire life. Like many of us, he's never had a league to call his own."

  "Is he packing?" Trent, our best forward, asked with a grin.

  Liam laughed. "He's cute as hell. And sweeter than drag queen come. But don't let his heart of gold fool you. He's a fucking gorilla on skates."

  I snorted with laughter. “Perfect. Maybe I’ll meet my new boyfriend."

  Liam winked at me knowingly. He was the only one on the team who knew that, especially after my last relationship, I was absolutely not in the market for a boyfriend. Liam’s new friend could be the most gorgeous, submissive, sweetest bear in the world; but I’d be damned if I let myself get carried away again. Not after last time.

  Liam cleared his throat. "He'll start with us next week. Just make sure to give him a warm welcome. He’s a little shy, but he’s going to fit in great"

  The team burst into applause. Jacob pulled our team mascot Mr. Snuggles on his lap. It was an adorable baby duck in a rainbow sweater Brent
gave to him when he proposed last month.

  "Mr. Snuggles will welcome him like he's our favorite member of the team."

  The League burst into a fresh round of oohs and awws. When we finished fawning over the little duck, we started packing up.

  “Hey,” Liam said when the sugar-fueled excitement died down. “Wanna hit Ready 2 Come with us?”

  Ready 2 Come was the hottest gay bar in Minneapolis.

  But with the mountain of work I had waiting for me at the Care Center, it was the last place I wanted to be.

  “Thanks, sis,” I said, shaking my head. “But I’m up to here with the kids. If I’m ever going to make a change in these miserable shits’ lives, I need a great night’s sleep and plenty of energy in the morning.”

  “That,” I added perfunctorily, “and a half-pot of coffee.”

  Liam playfully socked my shoulder. “No worries. You’ll come out with us another time.”

  As the rest of the team left to get smashed, I cleared the plastic cake container, dusted the residual crumbs from the bench, and snapped the lights off. As I headed to my car, I couldn’t help but think of Liam’s new friend.

  I wonder if he’s cute. And a bear. With rock-hard pecs and a warm fuzzy chest.

  I slid into my car. Even if I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, it wouldn’t hurt to have some eye candy — the kind that I liked — on the team. It might even inspire and lead us to victory.

  If nothing else, a sexy sweet man would give me plenty of imaginative fodder to jerk off to when I returned alone to my bed.

  2

  Luke

  The next day

  “No problem at all, Shelly. If you don’t have the money, we’ll do it for free.”

  I thumbed the steering wheel and replayed those moronic fucking words in my head for the hundredth time that morning alone. I was a total fucking tool. When was the last time the top contractor in a major city did anything for free?

  Only now that I was almost at the building where I’d actually be doing said work, did the weight of my words sink in.

  I snorted. “You really fucked yourself this time,” I grunted, making a beeline for the exit. In one swift motion I pulled into the parking lot of the Care Center, the LGBT youth center where I’d committed to spend the next few weeks installing a brand-new stage — completely free of charge.

  Because apparently I had a heart of gold, or something.

  Shut the fuck up, Luke. It's a good thing you’re helping the community. You’re changing the lives of hundreds of LGBT youth.

  I parked and lumbered out of my Ford 4x4 and made my way into the building, slamming the door behind me. After entering the building, I introduced myself to Shelly, the receptionist, who promptly told me that Mitch, the man who’d be overseeing my work, would be out in five minutes to greet me. At present he was wrapping up a meeting with a troubled youth named Devonte, who'd gotten into trouble with his local school. Devonte had been one of South High’s top students, and had been on track to be accepted in a top college on a full ride scholarship; but his family had lost their jobs, and now he was homeless. The Care Center was trying to turn it around.

  But I knew boys like Devante weren’t the reason I'd committed to this project.

  That particular honor was reserved for fucking ex, Bruce.

  Before Bruce came into my life, I wouldn’t have touched a free project with a ten-foot dildo. But towards the end of our relationship, I’d taken on a shit load to spite him. Like my three exes before him, Bruce was a total workaholic, which meant that if he wasn't doing something to buff up his bank account, he wasn't doing it. On top of the list of things he’d eschewed for the sake of the buffing up of his Wells Fargo savings account, were date nights, charity work, and just about anything related to kindness or good-naturedness in his miserable life. Towards the end, he hadn't even made time to see my family at Easter, the only holiday we spent with my parents instead of his.

  It was the last straw. I ended things on the 4th of July.

  I also made the mental promise never to fall for someone who favored an extra buck over helping the world's down and out ever again.

  I checked my Rolex. It was 8:05 A.M.

  Jesus. I’m doing this shit for free, right? The least they could do is keep their appointments.

  And that was when I was made aware of the presence of a gorgeous young man, with sparkling blue eyes and freshly waxed eyebrows, standing in front of me, who – if the way he was impatiently tapping his clipboard was any indication – was in a fucking hurry.

  I ignored his 3-inch Chanel heels and glanced at the name tag on his breast. Mitch.

  "Beautiful building you've got,” I said warmly, although the way it barreled out of my mouth, it bordered on the sickly sweet. “I can tell you do a lot of great work here. Helping kids, and whatnot.”

  I sounded like a regular Mother Teresa.

  Mitch must’ve picked up on my tone. Because a second later, he snorted and said, “If by great work you mean try to convince kids to get their asses back in gear and start studying, then you're right. But changing lives is a pain in the ass, most days."

  "They never said making an impact on the world was easy,” I said wisely — as if I knew anything about changing lives. The only thing I was good at changing was contractors, namely cycling them out when they were too toked out to show up to a project.

  “I’ll let you in on a secret,” Mitch said with a smirk. “Back in my corporate job, I didn't work half as hard as this. And the ‘impact' I made wasn’t a quarter as profound. So… Yeah. I am changing lives, and it’s hard as fuck, but it’s worth it.”

  "I get it. It can't be easy working with youth from troubled backgrounds all day. I can think of a million better things to do with my time."

  Mitch shot me a quizzical look.

  I cleared my throat. "That's not what I meant. I meant to say that it must be brutal."

  Mitch let out a soft laugh. “Follow me,” he said warmly. “I’ll take you to the conference room."

  I followed Mitch down the hallway. On the way to the room, we passed rooms of kids studying and playing educational games with staff. It warmed my heart, but only for a second. Because my attention was soon stolen by a very inviting sight.

  It was Mitch’s bulge.

  In his tight khakis, his massive cock was practically popping out of his pants.

  Oh Jesus Christ. What the fuck is that.

  Mitch smiled sweetly at me. “This,” he said, clearing his throat to redirect my attention to his eyes. “This is our chief conference room. This is where you'll be doing most of the work."

  I forced the thought of his beautiful bulge from my mind and tried to focus on his words. “Sorry?”

  Mitch narrowed his eyes. “This is the conference room. Where you’ll be doing most of the work.”

  I furrowed my brow. Conference room? In my bulge-induced confusion, I was thinking the room looked a hell of a lot more like an auditorium than a conference room. With the high ceilings and wide windows overlooking the local park, I couldn’t exactly imagine many conferences happening here.

  I asked him as much.

  Mitch rolled his eyes. “Okay … It’s technically a conference room — at least that’s what the last business that was here used it for — but we haven’t had a conference here in years. We use it almost exclusively as a makeshift theater for the kids.”

  My jaw dropped. “Holy shit. You do like puppet shows for them? And cute shit like that?”

  Mitch snickered. “Drag shows, honey. Puppets are for children.”

  He led me into the room — whatever the fuck it was — and gestured to the open space. "Right now, we just do them in the middle of this room. But it would be incredible to have a stage, a big one you could see from the very back. We can't exactly afford fancy new tech or projectors, but the stage will allow everyone to see the show.”

  “Like in ancient Greece or something,” Mitch added perfunctorily.

&nb
sp; I choked on laughter. "I can't say I’ve ever built a stage for drag shows before. But it's an incredible plan."

  "You think you’re up to the task?"

  “Fuck yes,” I said with a smirk. “It’ll take a few days to draw up a few mockups for you. I have a friend at an architectural firm who’ll help. But I should have them back by next Monday at the latest.”

  “Perfect. I’ll let Shelley know you’re on board.”

  With that, Mitch turned and led me out the door. As we shook hands one last time to say goodbye, I couldn’t help but take another mental snapshot of his enormous fucking bulge.

  Holy goddamn shit. Please, sweet Jesus, let me fucking remember this package later tonight.

  Mitch snapped his fingers. “My eyes are up here, sis. I’ll let you know when we need you to start.”

  I coughed loudly. “Perfect,” I grunted, extending my hand. “I’ll see you then.”

  With that, I whipped around and, after saying a quick prayer to the God of desire — even mentally preparing the votive offering I’d sure as fuck make to ensure I’d see Mr. Sass Queen and his Goliath-esque cock again — headed into my car. I was going to Sharp Enough, the hockey shop where I needed to pick up my brand new pair of Bauer Vapor ice skates for the hockey team my best friend Liam had invited me to try out.

  3

  Mitch

  The next week

  "If you smack my ass again, I’ll have to file a complaint for sexual assault."

  Liam crossed his arms over his chest and shot me a death glare. "You have to be kidding."