Possessive Puckboy (Puckboys, #8)

by Eden Finley

The man I might have had the most stupid high school crush on that maybe hasn’t completely stayed in high school. Connor Kikishkin.

So if I can have one thing in this life that makes me happy, I’m going to give it to myself. I’m going to own Connor Kikishkin.

It pisses me off that I don’t know if I want to fuck Connor or be Connor. I don’t want to want either of those options.

“When are you going to let this go?” I smooth out where his hold has creased the material on my sleeve. “That’s up to you. I know you’re not capable of an apology I’ll accept, but I’ll take cutting you off from everyone and everything you love as a consolation prize.” “You are so fucked-up.” “Yeah. And you made me this way.”

Though Miles Olsen says his pet rocks hate me too. Mainly when me or Easton score on him, but still. Even the rocks hate me.

“And if it turns out I’m every bit the possessive guy who acts first and thinks later?” The image of us in the locker room flips so that I’m in East’s position and Connor is pulling someone off me in a possessive, jealous rage. It’s a struggle to keep my voice even when I say, “Then you have to find someone who’ll appreciate being possessed. And some people really, really like it.”

“Connor … I am very gay and very attracted to you and very, very into the way you’re taking control. Please let go of my neck.”

think back to that day in high school when I saw Parker and Easton talking. Possibly even flirting. I’ve always maintained that I stepped in because I didn’t like the way Parker was interacting with East. East had a future, one he shouldn’t screw up. But looking back now, is it possible that something, somewhere buried deep down, when my subconscious said “mine,” it was not, in fact, talking about East? Could something inside me have put a claim on a person without even interacting?

Easton pats my back. “Welcome to the queer space. I’ll need to make your membership card, but don’t worry, it’ll say, ‘We’re all overthinkers here.’“

“It has red eyes,” Connor says straight away. “It’s a demon.” “But did you see the way it snuggled into me? I love him. I’m getting him.” Connor’s face softens. “If that’s what you want. I guess I’m getting us a rat.” “Me a rat.” “Never in a million years did I think I’d own a rat.” “Good thing you won’t be.”

“What will we call him? Devil? Evil incarnate?” “How about ratakiki?” “I will end you.” “It has a nice ring to it.” “We’re not naming our baby after me.” “My baby.”

“My jailers have gone to the bar. Quick.” He hiccups. “Meet me out front. I’m gonna ditch out like a shadow ninja!” The line goes dead, and I pull my phone away and stare at it.

“Parker, if another man tries to touch you, I’ll break every bone in his fucking hand.”

I shouldn’t be reading into it because it’s making me doubt my doubts. And doubting my doubts is doubtfully doubty out here. And now the word “doubt” has absolutely no meaning anymore.

“No, Park, I … I won’t get sick of this. Ever.” “This?” “Us.” I go all melty inside.