Next Season (The Elmwood Stories #2) Read Online Lane Hayes

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: The Elmwood Stories Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
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“Who eats a lot of tuna.”

I snorted. “Yeah. I’m down to one sandwich a day, though.”

“Ah, improvement! Your headaches are gone?”

“No, but they’re less intense. I’m still supersensitive to light, and the doctor doesn’t like that. I’m supposed to go to Burlington for a brain scan to get my occipital lobe checked again. I’m hoping like hell the swelling has gone away. I’ve done everything the medical professionals have advised and then some. I don’t know what else I can do to speed my recovery along.”

“Rest,” he said simply.

“Easy to say, but every day I’m not on the ice is a day I’m not proving myself, and I’m running out of time. Everyone assumes I’m retiring, including my coach. No one is pushing for me to hurry back to Seattle. They just assume I’m done, and this is not the way I want to end my career. Maybe I was never destined to go out in a blaze of glory, but to be sidelined by a concussion and fade my way to obscurity is just…depressing.”

“It’s early in the season and—”

“It’s November. I’ve been in Elmwood for three weeks, which means I haven’t been on skates in four weeks. Watching games on television is killing me too. And I’m watching with sunglasses on to avoid the glare so…wow.” I heaved a sigh and melted dramatically onto the pillow. “And now this…us. I haven’t really processed what it means that I’m naked in bed with a man. That’s pretty gay, so I’m probably bisexual. I should have freaked out and booked the next flight home already, but I have to tell you, this ‘experiment’ as you called it, is keeping me sane. When I’m with you like this, I’m living in the moment. I’m not worried about the rest of the year or where I’ll be next season. I’m here.”

He grinned. “Good.”

I gazed at the ceiling to hide my certain blush. “Yeah. That was a few hundred more words than I planned on saying on that subject, but I don’t want you to think I’m using you. It’s not my intention. I like you and I’m attracted to you and I don’t fully understand it, but…that’s all right. In fact, it’s the one uncertainty I’m totally okay with.”

Jean-Claude traced my jaw with his forefinger, rubbing his thumb along my chin. “Me too. I like you and I’m attracted to you. Unlike you, I know the reasons. It’s because you are very hot and you have a beautiful cock and…a very sexy ass.”

I burst out laughing. “You like my ass?”

He nodded slowly, a lecherous half smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “Very much. It’s perfectly round and muscular. Let me see it.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now. Lie on your stomach.” He gestured impatiently for me to obey. “Good boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” I growled into the pillow, wincing when he smacked my ass hard enough to leave a handprint a moment later. “Ow!”

Jean-Claude smoothed his palm over each cheek, pinching and squeezing my butt, and grazing his fingers in between my crack. Now, come on. If anything was going to snap me out of this queer phase I’d stumbled upon, that would surely be it.

But no.

His featherlight touch ignited a spark deep inside me. I closed my eyes and willed myself to relax and enjoy. I sank into the sensation, parting my thighs slightly as he massaged and explored. Within a few minutes, I was hard again and humping the mattress for friction while trying not to be too obvious about it. Impossible. He straddled me, resting his erection between my cheeks, then pulling them apart and rocking his hips suggestively.

Jean-Claude covered me like a blanket, molding his chest to my back and licking the shell of my ear. “This is very gay.”

“Mmm…yes.”

“Should I stop?”

“No, don’t stop. I mean, don’t try to fuck me, but…don’t stop. This feels good,” I moaned.

He lifted himself above me and slid down my body. “I can make it even better.”

I missed the weight of him immediately, but before I could protest, he rubbed his beard over my ass, parted my cheeks, and licked my hole.

I bucked in surprise. “Holy shit. What are you doing?”

“This is called rimming. It’s also very gay, although I think straight people like it too. Maybe you did this with a girlfriend. Don’t tell me. I’ll get jealous.”

I couldn’t string a coherent sentence together to save my life. I’d never been with a woman who wanted this, and I had no clue how amazing it felt. But as he helped me to my knees and urged me to hold on, I silently acknowledged that I wouldn’t have wanted to do this with anyone but Jean-Claude. There was something about being fucking owned and dominated by someone physically imposing yet so…gentle.

Christ, the things he did to me. My knuckles were white as I clutched the wooden slat on the headboard and gave in to pleasure. He took me apart, licking me as if I were his favorite flavor of ice cream. My dick was rock hard, dripping precum on the pillow underneath me. I tried to dip my hips in a quest for friction, but he smacked my ass and anchored me in place. In the back of my mind, I wondered why I didn’t push him away. This was some kind of pleasure torture, and I wasn’t into that.


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