Page 83 of Bonus Game
But the challenge was already burning through him, drumming along excitedly with his racing pulse and the throbbing of his cock. This was either the worst idea he’d ever had or the best, but he wouldn’t know unless he was brave enough to face the fire and risk getting burned.
Or in Sloan’s case, consumed.
“That’s what I thought,” Sloan said smugly. “Now open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”
Riley’s jaw clenched, and a sharp retort burned in his throat, ready to spill out like venom. But something twisted in his gut, a spark of curiosity overriding the urge to shove Sloan away.
Sloan’s eyes gleamed with a predatory glint, already knowing he had won. His lips slid into a smirk that promised trouble, and there was an edge to his expression that had Riley’s cock twitching despite himself.
When Riley did what he was told and opened, Sloan thrust his tongue inside like he owned the space. It was a brutal invasion; a wet, hot, and unrelenting tangle of tongues and teeth. Sloan groaned into it, hips rolling forward to grind his hardening cock against Riley’s chest, the friction sending sparks up Riley’s spine.
Riley’s hands gripped Sloan’s thighs, fingers digging into the firm muscle while he chased the heat, his own erection straining painfully against Sloan’s ass.
Abruptly, Sloan pulled back, breaking the connection with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting their lips for a heartbeat before snapping. He grinned down at Riley, wild and satisfied, his breath coming in heavy pants that matched the rise and fall of his chest. Riley stared up, lips swollen and tingling, chest heaving as he fought the haze of want clouding his mind.
“Good boy,” Sloan murmured, the words heavy with praise and possession, sealing the vow between them—along with Riley’s fate.
17 /KINGSTON
They were at morning practice,and Kingston was supposed to be on the ice with the rest of the guys running drills, but that was before Riley Evans had smirked at him during Coach Sullivan’s powwow in the locker room.
Which was how Kingston ended up in one of the larger changing stalls with his pants down and Riley’s hand on his cock.
Riley. Riley.Riley.
Kingston hated that stupid name, but it didn’t stop him from moaning it when the owner of said name dragged his thumb through the pre-cum dribbling from his slit, circling it in the slow, torturous way that never failed to drive himcrazy.
Kingston found an old bruise he’d left on Riley’s neck and bit down, stifling his loud cries and moans as his eyes locked onto the door. The changing stall they had commandeered was more like a small room with a bench to sit on, a toilet, and sink included. It made it a very convenient spot to fool around, but there were stillpeople lurking nearby.
Teammates. Staff. Coaches. Doctors.Owners. Any of them could be standing right outside the door, unaware that there were two dumbasses behind it, touching each other’s dicks.
They could get caught. Someone could hear them, or Coach could send one of the guys to come looking for them, but Kingston didn’t give a fuck.
“You’re so hard,” Evans whispered, his breath hitching when Kingston clenched his jaw, digging his teeth in deeper. “Does the thought of someone catching us turn you on, Kingston?”
Bastard.
Kingston had told Evans not to use his name outside of their apartment, but the cocky motherfucker refused to listen.
Evans hummed, and his cum-soaked hand slid down the length of Kingston’s cock, teasing him. “What kind of dirty talk do you think guys use when they fuck? Can I say you’re wet? Because that’s what you are.”
Kingston growled around the hot skin in his mouth, cursing Riley with everything he had, wondering how the guy was awkward and clumsy with his advances everywhere but the damn bedroom. He couldn’t talk about his feelings or ask Kingston for a kiss, but he had no problem running his mouth while he jerked him off.
And Kingston never thought he would reach the point where he was tired of handjobs, but he was.
Two weeks—two fucking weeks they had beenexperimenting.Kingston wasn’t complaining about the obnoxious number of orgasms he’d had, but he would like to…get off in other ways?
He had tried throwing hints at Riley that he wanted to do more, but so far, it wasn’t working.
Riley talked like he knew what he was doing, but the minute Kingston resigned himself to getting fingered or doing something else that wasn’t making out or handjobs, Riley muttered bullshit aboutnot wanting to hurt himand brushed him off.
Kingston didn’t think it was possible to be sexually frustrated when his balls had never been emptier, but he was, and it pissed him off.
“You’re quiet,” said Evans, his warm breath tickling Kingston’s ear. “Too angry to answer, kitten?”
Kingston detached his teeth and pulled his fist back, aiming a punch for Riley’s head—that never landed.
His fist was caught, and his arm was twisted until he was forced to go with the momentum or risk injuring himself, and Kingston spat a curse as his chest was slammed onto the counter beside the sink, knocking a gasp from him.
