Page 62
What happens in Chapter 62 of "Tempting Venom"? Iāve spent my whole life sharing naked time with the guys in the locker room,... Read on to find out!
Iāve spent my whole life sharing naked time with the guys in the locker room, and not once have I ever looked at any of them and gotten an unwanted boner.
Not once.
And while weāre on the subject, I also happen to think my body is better than theirs. Iām the guy who starts a dick-measuring contest just to remind everyone Iām the reigning champ. Except Jude. We donāt talk about Jude. Jude is a tough competitor with the ladies whom I refuse to discuss.
Toxic masculinity, blah, blah. Classic straight-guy nonsense.
And straight guys donotget turned on by other guys. Thatās literally Rule Number One in the Bro Bible.
Which makes it extremely concerning that I, a certifiedTotally Straight Dude, just got an astronomical hard-on from being manhandled by the motherfucking rival I hate with the fire of a thousand suns.
And now, with his hand on my hip, my brain is glitching so hard, itās practically smoking.
This makes zero sense.
Iāve been checked, slammed, tackled, and folded like laundry for years, and Iāve never gotten even a pity twitch.
So why the fuck?ā
Hello? Brain? Wouldlovea memo. A sticky note? A pop-up ad? Literally any form of communication would be appreciated. Thanks in advance.
Silence.
Because, apparently, my body has seized the controls, and my mind has switched its status toāoffline, good luck, bitch.
The hand disappears, snapping me out of whatever spell I just fell under. I whip around, then freeze when Marcus tugs his glove off with his teeth, his helmet and stick abandoned on the ice.
And once again, Iām staring at the bruises I gave him the other day.
My mark.
No. Who cares about that?
Apparently, my eyes do, because they refuse to look anywhere else.
His damp hair falls in messy strands over his forehead, a few drifting into those impossibly dark eyesāso dark, my spine does this weird little shiver.
And for some godforsaken reason, I find the whole thingā¦fascinating.
No. Absolutely not.
Itāsnotfascinating.
Disturbingāyes. Fascinatingānever.
Delete that thought, brain. Burn it. Salt the earth.
Marcus throws his gloves on the ice and closes the distance between us, but I skate back before he can reach me. āWhat the fuck do you think youāre doing?ā
My voice doesnāt sound as biting as Iād like, and that bothersome hard-on isnāt going away. If anything, it seems to have gotten worse, crowding my compression shorts more by the second.
āTouching you.ā He keeps skating forward as I let myself glide away, tightening my grip on my stick. āThatās what we agreed on, remember?ā
I donāt like the look in his eyes. First, heās not smirking or grinning like the arrogant bastard he is, which Iām starting to think is bad news. Second, thereās this predatory shine in his eyes, like heās debating the best way to devour me.
I, Preston Armstrong, who devours people for breakfast, am on the brink of being devoured?
Someone call Dr. Duret stat. Iām psychologically dying.