Chapter 2: Egotistical Puckboy: Chapter 2

I CONSIDER myself to be a levelheaded guy. I’m a fair player, I work my heart out, I’d do anything for my family … but there’s something about Ezra Palaszczuk that digs under my skin and sets all rational thought on fire.

That confrontation could have been so much worse than it was. If it had turned into a fight, you can bet it would have been hot news by morning. Like I told Ezra, my focus is hockey, and that’s all I want to be known for.

But I stepped in to help him without a thought.

Ezra sways, looking from one side of the street to the other. Those piercing blue eyes are heavy-lidded and unfocused. “Which way was I going?”

“Why?”

“Because I need to get my gay on.” He stumbles a few steps, changes his mind, and then swings in the other direction. Only he overshoots and somehow ends up walking into me.

How the hell is this guy one of the kings of hockey?

I help right him, but he presses harder against me.

“We should fuck.”

“I’m going to remind you of those words every chance I get.” I pry him off me. “You’re a mess. In what world would I be interested in someone who smells like a brewery and has the coordination of a two-year-old?”

“Of course. You’re perfect Anton Hayes, you have , and playoffs, and a hockey stick rammed right up your—”

“You know, I have why those men wanted to hit you.”

“Jus po direct da cay blub.”

“Was that English or Polish?”

“Cay Glub. Club Gay. Gay. Which way?” He flexes his jaw. “Why won’t my mouth work right?”

This is what I get for interfering. An Ezra so far past drunk that even conscience won’t let me leave him here.

Sighing, I grab his arm and yank him toward the road just in time to flag down a taxi.

“Ohh, someone wants to bow chicka wow wow.”

“Always, but not with you.” I shove him in the back of the cab as soon as the door is open. “And your beard looks ridiculous, by the way.”

He drops his head back and closes his eyes. “You’re such a fuckface.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you have two left skates. Goddamn pigeon.”

“The hat trick I got tonight says otherwise,” I say. “What score did Boston end up on again?”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s what I thought.” I give the driver my address, and he pulls into traffic. “You play the role of a petulant child so well.”

“And you play the peten-pretentious asshole. That’s you.” He hiccups. “Take me to the hotel.”

“I’m not going anywhere near your team. I have a spare room. You can sleep off the alcohol and leave in the morning.”

On the way home, I ask the driver to take us through the drive-thru to get Ezra food and water to help soak up the alcohol. He swears at me some more before tearing into his burger like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

I’d say it’s the alcohol making Ezra act this way, but I’m pretty sure it’s just him. We don’t see each other often—thank fuck—but whenever we do, it reinforces why I choose to keep things private. Ezra makes it his mission to be as loud and obnoxious as possible, making sure everyone remembers he sleeps around with men, runs his mouth, and happens to have talent on the ice that is completely overshadowed by how annoying he is.

Every time he opens his mouth, I want to forcefully close it again. Zip his lips shut, or … the image of Ezra gagged and on his knees flashes through my mind, and I hate how much I like it.

If I was into that kind of thing, I’d almost consider taking Ezra up on his offer.

Almost.

Even gagged he’d still be …

. Entitled, eccentric, and egotistical. The three s that make Ezra who he is.

We pull up to my condo in Rittenhouse Square, and I help Ezra from the car. It’s in an older building, right on the park, but the whole penthouse has been redesigned. I fell in love as soon as I saw the space.

Thankfully Ezra’s less sloppy, but I still try not to draw attention to us as we pass security. Chester, the concierge, congratulates me on a good game, and I thank him before stuffing Ezra into my private elevator.

“This is fancy,” he taunts.

“You can talk. I’ve seen photos of your place. Anyone would think you’re compensating for something.”

“Screw you. I have a massive dick.”

“Funny your thoughts went there when I was talking about your hockey skill.” The thing is, Ezra actually a great player. He’s focused and talented, and whenever we go up against Boston, I know it’s going to be a good game—well, except for tonight. But Ezra’s behavior off the ice ruins every good thing he does on it.

He’s wasting time drawing attention to his personal life, and seeing him splashed all over trashy sites online always grates on my nerves.

A therapist would say that I’m projecting all my internalized homophobia at the out and proud poster boy for gay pride, but it’s not that.

It’s that he makes it a point to be so … out. I might be gay, but that’s not my whole identity. I don’t want to let it overshadow the other things that make me I’m a hockey player, son … I give back to the community. I use my privilege to help others.

I don’t want to come out to the world and be reduced to Anton Hayes, gay hockey player. And when I look at Ezra, that’s all I see. He’s perpetuating the image I want to avoid.

It’s infuriating. And a little intimidating.

The elevator opens into my foyer, which leads to the vast living area. The skyline is brightly lit through the wall of glass overlooking the park, and I direct Ezra to the couch while I go in hunt of more water and some painkillers. When I return, he’s slumped down in an armchair, jacket off, tie loose, and staring at the wood-paneled ceiling. He clearly hasn’t touched his light brown hair since his shower tonight because it’s all fluffy on top of his head.

“Here.” I hand over the glass and pills.

“Why are you being nice to me?” he asks as he reluctantly swallows the drugs.

“This isn’t nice. It’s responsible.”

His laugh is hollow. “Responsible. Right. Of course. What a fun quality to have.”

“Better than being all fun and no substance.” I should have dumped him outside his hotel, but I had no guarantees he’d make his way inside, and the last thing I want is for someone to see me going into his hotel room. Wherever he goes, gossip follows, and it’d be my luck that someone would see us together and assume we were sleeping together.

I eye Ezra, from his unfortunately gorgeous face half hidden behind that messy beard to his long, muscled legs. It’s easy to see why he gets so much dick. I’m guessing there’s not much conversation during his hookups because the moment he opens his mouth, it’s an instant boner killer.

Ezra glances around the room. “Tell me again how you don’t have a stick up your ass.”

Just like that.

“How is it possible you’re even more annoying off the ice?” I ask.

“Pure talent.” He stretches his arms high over his head, and my attention immediately goes to his biceps. “Now that you’re done playing savior, want to show me where I’m sleeping?”

“It kills you, doesn’t it? That I was the one to step in.”

Ezra doesn’t even try to deny it. “You wouldn’t have been my first choice, that’s for sure.”

“Maybe if you had actual friends in the league, you would have had more choices.”

“Fuck you.” There’s no venom behind his words. “I have plenty of friends.”

“Teammates don’t count. And since West disappeared, you’re on your own a lot.”

I know I’m poking at a sore spot. Ezra loves to give the illusion he’s a party animal, but since Westly Dalton retired, he’s lost his partner in crime.

“I don’t need West.”

“No, Ezra Palaszczuk doesn’t need anyone.”

“Whatever you’re trying to say, just say it. You’re a whole lot less amusing now that I’m sobering up.”

“Believe it or not, I’m not here for your amusement.”

He pushes suddenly to his feet. “Why are you here, then? I didn’t ask for it.”

“What would have happened if I wasn’t there tonight?”

“A punch to the face, then I would have ended up at the club I was headed to so I could get my dick wet.”

“Is that all you care about?”

“Yes.” He pretends to look me over. “Maybe if you did it more often, you wouldn’t be so uptight.”

A growl starts to build in my chest. “Just because I don’t jump everything that moves, doesn’t mean I’m uptight.”

“You need to get laid.”

“Unlike you, I can think with more than my dick.”

“So can I, but my dick happens to be incredibly convincing.” He cups his groin. “We haven’t had a disagreement yet.”

“Except for when you rubbed it up against me earlier.”

“And still not even then. I’d totally sleep with a cocky asshole like you.”

That throws me. I’d fully expected Ezra to deny it happened, not confirm that he’d go there. Given his track record, it shouldn’t be a surprise considering he doesn’t seem to care who he’s with as long as he makes some stupid sports tabloid. “Let’s be clear here. You’re saying you’d let me fuck you.”

“Why do you get to do the fucking?”

“Because there’s no way in hell I’d bend over for you.”

Ezra shrugs like he doesn’t have a single shit to give. “You’re literally my only option here.”

“Actually, your other option is to go to bed and not sleep with anyone.”

“So you’re saying it an option? Bullshit. There’s no way you would.” He steps closer, eyes issuing a challenge. “I’m not up to your standards.”

“At least we both know it.” I want to deny it. I want to tell Ezra to go to bed and be gone in the morning before I wake up. But it been a while since I hooked up. That has to be the only reason I’m considering this. Sure, Ezra is hot, but I’ve turned down hotter guys who had terrible personalities.

“You’d never slum it with someone like me,” he says.

“Never.”

“I bet you’re all missionary, aren’t you?” He pitches his voice high. “Oh, excuse me, sir, would you mind if I used your buttocks to put my penis inside—”

“I’ve never said the word in my life—”

“Until now. I’m a great influence. A great lay too.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Just as well.” He turns and heads for the hall. I’m assuming he thinks he’s headed toward the bedrooms. He isn’t. “You wouldn’t be able to keep up with me.”

“Like I couldn’t on the ice tonight?” My feet follow him. “Oh, that’s right, I kicked your ass.”

“This ass?” He grabs it.

My gaze drops immediately, taking in the way the tight suit pants hug his perky cheeks. My cock twitches. Damn Ezra for having a sexy butt.

Still, I’m not ready to admit it. “You have more than one?”

“You’re staring at it, aren’t you?”

“Glaring. In the general vicinity of your back.”

“I bet it’s turning you on.”

My cock agrees with him. “Impossible. You’re still talking.”

“I can stop if you like. Keep quiet and bend over …” He tilts his head like he’s thinking about it, which of course makes think about it. “I’ve changed my mind. I can imagine you getting me into bed and emulating a dying fish. Flopping around all uncoordinated …”

Pounding into him …

“That’s why you don’t hook up, isn’t it? You’re embarrassed.”

My fingers twisting through his rumpled hair …

“I bet you’re a ten-second man.”

Making him groan …

“Don’t worry, it’s normal. There are drugs for—

!”

I shove him into the wall and crowd up behind him. “Keep talking. I dare you.”

He shivers at my voice in his ear but doesn’t stay quiet. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“No challenge. You’ve been a challenge.” One of my hands twists through his hair to yank his head back, while the other reaches for his belt. “Do you really want me to fuck you?”

Ezra pushes back with his hips. “Yes. Hell yes.”

“Even knowing that every time I see you, I’ll remind you of this? That it was me who tore you apart and made you come. I won’t say a word …” As soon as his belt is free, I yank down his zipper and push his pants to his thighs. Then I reach into his briefs and pull out his cock. “I’ll at you and you’ll know.”

“I don’t care. Just do it already.”

I start to stroke him, and Ezra lets out a strangled gasp. His cock is one thick handful, and I almost regret not getting to suck him off, but I know what I want. I’m going to fuck Ezra stupid and shut him up once and for all.

“Hands on the wall.”

“Make me.” He grinds his ass back into my cock, making it throb.

With a grunt, I let him go and shove his chest flat into the wall. I press up against him as I reach for my wallet and retrieve the lube and condom I have stashed in there. I undo my pants, quickly tear the condom open and roll it down my aching shaft, and then open the lube and dribble it into his crack.

My fingers follow the lube until I’m rubbing his hole. “Beg for my cock.”

“Never.”

I push the tip of my forefinger inside him. “Beg me.”

“Fuck off.” He shudders as I work the rest of my finger inside him, and it doesn’t take long until he’s grinding back to meet each stroke.

I’m deliberately slow and shallow, even when I add another finger, and I can tell by the way Ezra pushes back that he’s getting frustrated.

“I can give you what you want,” I say into his ear. I’m about a breath away from taking him anyway. “All you have to do is either beg me or put your hands on the goddamn wall.”

Even on the ice, I’ve never seen him move so fast. His hands hit the wall above his head, curving his back and making his ass stick out deliciously. Once I’m sure he’s stretched enough, I pull back to look at him.

He glances back over his shoulder, and his stare immediately drops to my covered dick. “I’m on PrEP. You don’t need a condom—”

My chuckle is low and deep. “Yeah, that’s never going to happen. I don’t go bare with hookups.” I step closer and grab my dick, running it down between his ass cheeks. “Last chance to chicken out.”

“You wish.”

He’s barely got the words out before I’m pushing inside. God, he’s so tight and hot, and I watch every second it takes me to slide in and bottom out.

I take a moment to control myself, because I’m going to follow through. I’m going to make him come first.

“What was it you called me? A ten-second man?” I pull back and slam inside him.

Ezra groans. “Still haven’t proved me wrong yet, have you?”

That’s what he wants? Then that’s what he’ll get.

I grab his hips and then pull back until I’m almost the whole way out before pounding back into him. The first thrust almost sends him face-first into the wall, and he scrambles to adjust his hold before it happens again.

I’m not careful. I don’t give him time to catch his breath.

I start fucking him with purpose, using him, taking years’ worth of anger out on his ass. Ezra has always rubbed me the wrong way, and now, for the first time ever, he’s finally rubbing me exactly the way I need.

“Listen to you,” I gasp as I pound into him. “You love it, don’t you?”

“Being fucked? Who doesn’t?”

I almost laugh. “Wait until tomorrow. When your cock has settled down and you remember it was me. When the realization sets in that you were owned by Anton Hayes.”

. That makes me so hot, I’m closer to the edge than I realized.

“What about you?” He’s breathless, pushing back to meet me. “When you remember how easily you gave in. How easily I played you.”

His gravelly voice goes straight to my balls. I want him to both shut up and keep talking, but I’m determined not to let him have the last word.

I bite his ear until he cries out. “I want this moment burned into your brain. And when I lift that Stanley Cup into the air this year, will be the moment it reminds you of.”

Then I straighten, press his face to the wall, grab his cock with the other hand, and let loose. Every thrust forces his cock to slide through my fist. Forces my balls to smack against his ass. I’m grunting, sweaty. The sounds coming from him are filthy and sexy, and the raw smell of sex is turning me on, pushing me higher.

I watch as my dick slides in and out, disappearing and reappearing so quickly it’s almost a blur. Either that or my vision is already going wonky. My hand tightens in his hair. Holding him in place. Keeping him at my mercy.

Ezra.

Pinned.

Controlled.

By me.

Fuck, I’m close.

So close.

I jerk him faster than I’d be able to if I wasn’t determined to send him over the edge first.

Just a bit more …

A bit more …

Ezra gasps, and his ass clenches tight. The second his cum hits my hand, I let go. My orgasm crashes over me, and I fuck him through it, unable to stop if I tried. By the time I finally slow, finally start to get blood pumping back to my brain, I’m breathing hard and Ezra is slumped against the wall. I want to drop down against him and catch my breath, but instead, I force myself to pull out.

We’re both gasping hard, and when he turns to lean back against the wall, I avoid his gaze.

I quickly tuck myself away, condom and all, as the awkwardness starts to kick in.

“The spare rooms are over there.” I point. “Clean up before bed. I don’t want cum in my sheets.”

Then I stalk away to my bedroom. As soon as I have the door closed between me and Ezra, I turn and slump against it.

Reality kicks in way too soon.

I wait for the regret to follow, but oddly, it doesn’t come.

All I can focus on is remembering the sound of Ezra’s deep moans, the muscles in his ass, the way the shadows played over the side of his face, parted lips visible behind that filthy beard.

A smile starts to build as I realize I beat his ass twice tonight.