Page 116
Chapter 116 of "Tempting Venom" opens revealing intense scenes: Armstrong swallows, and Iām staring at his Adamās apple as it bobs up and down,... Keep reading!
Armstrong swallows, and Iām staring at his Adamās apple as it bobs up and down, his eyes widening upon focusing on me.
No idea what he sees on my face, whether itās the manifestation of that tension or if itās something murderous or entirely different, but his lips part in slow motion, and I canāt rip my gaze away.
From his lips, I mean.
No clue what the fuck Iām doing as I reach a hand to his faceāhis helmet, to be more accurate. I need it gone so I canā¦touch.
His lips. His eyes. His skin. Doesnāt matter where.
All I know is that Ineedto touch him.
Just once.
Onceis enough.
āOsborn, stop looking at me like thatāā His choked words are interrupted when Iām hauled away from him by none other than Callahan.
We break into a brutal fight. I punch him harder than I usually do in these skirmishes, because the useless piece of shitinterruptedsomething.
What, I donāt know, but there wassomething.
It takes a lot of effort for our older teammates to break us apart, and weāre both sent into the box. Soon after, the game is finished.
But the tension I feel about Armstrong isnāt.
If anything, itās wilder and deeper than any time before.
Next game.
Iāll get him in the next game.
I never actually got him.Except for recently, that is.
But after that specific game three years ago, something different happenedāI started fucking men.
And the first guy I fucked was blond with a similar build to Prestonās. I might have imagined a different face when I pounded him doggy style.
I pictured bright-green eyes and the bobbing of his Adamās apple as he stared at me with his lips parted while he was trapped beneath me.
I might have come the hardest I have in my entire life.
Now that I think about it, Preston was my queer awakening.
I donāt know what the fuck I wouldāve done if Callahan hadnāt pulled me off him. I donāt think I wouldāve been satisfied with just touching him.
I never have been.
Even now, I want to yank him from the ice and devour him.
Prestonās eyes meet mine during his greeting of the crowd and he pauses, his smile faltering before a frown appears between his brows.
I wave at him one finger at a time.
No, I shouldnāt be here when I have a game tomorrow, but letās call it studying the enemy or something.
Soon enough, the game resumes, and Preston is a scoring machine. He cuts through the defense and exchanges the puck with Callahan and Davenport in pure showmanship.
The three of them have always made a great team, complementing each other perfectly.