Possessive Puckboy (Puckboys, #8)

by Eden Finley

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. And I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing one of the reasons I’m here is because of him. In fact, I’m going to pretend I don’t remember him at all.

Surprising the hell out of me, East actually has my back. He gets in between us and glares in Parker’s direction. “I could be wrong, but it sounds a hell of a lot like you bought this team so you can mess with Connor over some stupid nickname you were given when you were both young.”

it is pretty crazy that they both guessed this? lmao like clearly they're projecting

Connor is classically handsome. Browny-caramel waves. Deep gray eyes. A square jaw peppered with stubble. But those things I can ignore. It’s the gentle way his anger surrounds him, the way he holds himself like the tallest person in the room, how he manages everything in life with such extreme confidence—those are things I’ll never have and will always crave. 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.

Revenge is supposed to make me feel good. So why don’t I want it anymore?

This time, his smile does come out properly, and my gut swoops. It’s the same smile he wore back in high school, talking to Easton, and I don’t think I’ve seen it again since. All the air is pushed from my lungs, and I’m frozen for a moment in time, asking how something so simple can steal my breath. Or maybe that’s still the hangover. Before I can take a step toward the exit, I’m hunched back over the toilet and throwing up some more.

“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.”

Once I got over being scared of people, they started to interest me. Why they make the choices they do, how they see the world, why someone would make the conscious decision to think they’re better than someone else.

He needs to stop looking at me like that. All shiny eyes and wide smile. I’m so attracted to him it hurts. All this time I wanted his attention, I had no idea how tortuous that attention could be.

I want to sit next to him. Hell, I wouldn’t mind kissing him again so I could actually pay attention to his mouth, take my time, and feel everything. My heart was pounding too hard, my adrenaline spiking my veins with so much energy I was practically buzzing out of my skin. Kissing him left me with more questions than answers. Maybe if I kiss him long enough, I’ll find the answers I’m looking for on his tongue.

“Why though? Why …” “Why do I no longer hate you?” I nod. “There are a lot of reasons. Because I’ve seen how you’re struggling. Because you might be a late bloomer and haven’t figured yourself out yet. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because I finally have your attention, and I’ll do anything to keep it.” I speak before I think. “Even kiss me again?”

A small part of me wishes I could be someone else. Someone hotter and bigger who could hold the attention of a guy like Connor Kikishkin. But then I remember, for better or worse, I’m mostly okay with being me. And it’s this me that gets to kiss him right now.

He’s holding me, and for a moment, that loneliness in my heart settles.

He can end up with any person on the planet after all, but he’ll never take my memories from me.

I don’t want to have to see his gorgeous face, and I definitely don’t want him to be plotting how to avoid me. I will play things totally cool and let him know I’m totally cool and everything is very, very cool between us.

Sam shoots him a look. “I think guys who own rats are hot.” I glance up, meeting Sam’s eyes, unsure if he’s actually flirting with me. His steady smile confirms that, yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. Even if it’s only so I’ll get the rat, I can’t wrap my head around him doing that when Connor—basically the hottest man alive—is standing right there.

Damn. You’ve got such a sweet face I want to see it deep-throat me.”

He takes a deep, steadying breath, then leans forward, lips by my ear, and rasps, “It’s your turn to smell like us.” Then his hand closes over my dick.

Connor’s fingers skim my stomach, rubbing our releases into my skin with soothing circles. “I think I’ve changed my mind about that shower.” It takes me a second to remember what he’s talking about. “You don’t want me to have one?” “Nope. What I really want is to take you somewhere. Knowing you smell like me.” “You really are a possessive fucker.” “Yeah, but you said you liked it.” “I did.” And I do. I really, really do. The problem is I think I like it too much. Connor might look at me and think mine when he’s horny, but we both know it’s not reality. Role-play is fun. Until it isn’t. And I’m worried I might get too used to it too quickly because even the sticky tightness across my skin isn’t enough for me to push the shower thing. I hate being dirty. But for him, I already can’t get enough.

My head’s not on right because of Parker. All I can think about is Parker. All I want to think about is Parker. When he said I should focus all my possessive energy somewhere else, I don’t think this is what he meant.

Aww, my first thoughts of we and us when referring to queer people and spaces. I really am embracing this. Go me.

We’re merely two people who might have found each other sooner if things were different. If I wasn’t hockey captain and he wasn’t the computer geek.

He’s my big brother, and I love him.” I peek around the corner, and Easton is smiling my way, sitting at a stool at their kitchen counter. Tripp is in the kitchen, and Dex is fixing more drinks in the background. “Even if he’s a big-eared, nosy bitch,” East says.

“I knew it,” Tripp says. “He’s hot. Good job.” “He’s mine,” I growl. All three of them flinch backward. “That escalated quickly,” Tripp says. “Connor doesn’t do things in halves.” Easton’s right. I don’t. “I’m all in,” I say.

Then he leans in suddenly, hand gripping my hip while his lips land near my ear. “Parker, if another man tries to touch you, I’ll break every bone in his fucking hand.”

Connor rolls the condom on, then covers his cock in lube. I’m on PrEP, and he’s regularly tested, but foregoing condoms is a talk we can have after we’re both not so riled up.

Love that this is always a thing in queer smut but sometimes I just want the risk!!!! Like talk about it but cmon just go bare 🙄 Hahahaha

We’re both sweating. Our kiss is sloppy. Deep. Desperate. Because he’s always made me so fucking desperate. So desperate to tell him to fuck off. To tell him to look at me. Notice me. Realize I’m goddamn worthy of him too.

Connor Kikishkin finally sees me, and more importantly, I see him. The real him and not some fantasy dream man who I had built up in my head. The reality is better anyway.

I’ve never felt something so right. That is, until Colorado dominates all three periods, and I watch my brother hoist that Cup over his head. Okay, now everything is right.