Page 75 of Pucking the Team

I can’t help but grin back. “You weren’t so bad yourself, Dvorak. You take cock like a champ.”

Emma makes a choked sound, and we look over to see her still furiously rubbing her clit, on the brink of orgasm from watching us.

“Oh my god, that was so fucking hot,” she moans. “I can’t believe you two just did that.”

I can’t believe that just happened either. I never imagined I’d end up fucking Lukas Dvorak, of all people. But damn, it was incredible. The way his tight ass gripped my cock, the desperate sounds he made as I pounded into him. I’ve never experienced anything so intensely pleasurable before.

And the fact that he didn’t even flinch at my size…

Emma’s hand is still moving frantically between her legs as she gazes at us with lust-blown eyes. As we all watch, she cries out sharply, bringing herself to completion.

She closes her eyes, breathing out hard. Then she opens them again, looks around, and says, “Well, boys, good thing you have a leather couch, because this is going to be a bitch to clean up.”

CHAPTER 33

ALEX

I lounge on the couch with Emma nestled against my chest, I marvel at how everything has fallen into place over the last month. Our polycule arrangement with Lukas, Slade, and Ryan feels as natural as breathing now. Karen from HR was practically giddy when we added Slade and Ryan to our consent forms. I never thought I’d be the type of guy to share my girl, but damn if it doesn’t feel right.

Emma traces lazy circles on my abs, her touch electric even through my t-shirt. My body hums with satisfaction, still riding the high from our earlier activities. Flashes of tangled limbs, glistening skin, and breathy moans dance through my mind. I tighten my arms around Emma, craving her closeness.

But as much as I want to lose myself in her again, I can’t completely switch off coach mode. Old habits die hard.

“Hey babe, want to watch some game footage with me?” I ask, rubbing her shoulder. “Could be fun to analyze plays while we chill.”

Emma tilts her head up, an amused smile playing on her kiss-swollen lips. “You just can’t turn it off, can you? Such a workaholic.” She pokes my chest playfully.

“Guilty as charged,” I grin, capturing her hand and bringing it to my mouth for a kiss. “But you love me for it.”

“Mmm, I suppose I do,” she concedes. “Fire up that game tape then, coach. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As I queue up the footage, I reflect on how much I’ve changed since this thing with Emma, Lukas, Slade, and Ryan came into my life. Before, hockey consumed me—I lived and breathed the chase for perfection. I pushed myself too hard and put my own health on the back burner.

But being with the four of them, building this beautiful, unconventional thing we have? It’s shifted my whole perspective.

I still push myself, still demand excellence. But I’ve found an outlet for those dominant instincts in our bedroom activities. And fuck, if taking control there doesn’t make me a calmer, clearer presence on the ice and in the locker room.

Emma burrows closer as the game tape starts, a vision of beauty and comfort in my arms. I press a kiss to her hair, breathing her in. In this moment, I’ve never been more grateful for the love and balance she and our boys have brought to my world.

Emma leans forward, blue eyes laser-focused on the screen. “There,” she says, pointing at Slade as he snags the puck and weaves through the defense. “See how he’s drawing the defenders to the left side of the ice? It’s opening up space for Lukas on the right.”

I watch as Lukas takes advantage of the opening, darting towards the net with a burst of speed. Emma’s right—it’s a subtle shift in tactics, but it creates a golden scoring opportunity.

“Slade’s really grown as a captain,” Emma muses, admiration evident in her voice. “His ability to read the ice and create plays is phenomenal.”

I nod, pride swelling in my chest. Slade’s come a long way from the raw talent I mentored in college. Leading this team has honed his strategic mind to a razor’s edge.

Emma’s gaze shifts to Ryan as he body-checks an opposing forward, effectively shutting down their offensive drive. “And look at Ryan’s positioning,” she enthuses. “He’s not just reacting; he’s anticipating. That’s the mark of a truly skilled defenseman.”

I can’t help but be impressed by the depth of her analysis. She’s not just seeing the game—she’s dissecting it, layer by intricate layer.

As the period ends and the boys head to the bench, I hit pause on the tape and turn to face Emma fully. “Em, you’re incredible,” I marvel, shaking my head in wonder. “The way you break down plays, the insights you have…it’s above and beyond a social media manager’s qualifications.”

A pretty blush colors her cheeks at the praise, but I can see the gears turning behind her eyes. She’s always been humble, but I know hockey is in her blood.

“Have you ever considered video coaching?” The question slips out before I can second-guess it, but the more I think about it, the more right it feels. “You’re a hockey genius, Em. The way you understand the game, it’s innate. You could move out of marketing and onto the coaching staff.”

Emma laughs, but there’s an undercurrent of wistfulness to it. “Me? A coach?” She shakes her head. “That’s a nice pipe dream. Besides, I need to keep focused on my work right now so I don’t fall under the wrath of Alison.”

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