Page 63 of In Too Deep

“Something got you distracted, Black?” Logan asks into my ear after the puck drops.

It’s a loaded question, of course. He’s also in the “Tori’s Alphas” group chat, a separate one from our household chat and one that Tori isn’t part of, and knows damn well what’s on my mind. But Coach has a funny way of dealing with his jealousy, though he’d never say that he is out loud. That won’t stop him from running me ragged on the ice tonight for admitting that I’m thinking about all the ways I’ll be fucking Tori the nanosecond we get home from this goddamn trip.

“No, Coach,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the puck.

Logan gives me a hard pat on my shoulder. “How about you, Joker? You gonna be able to keep your head in the game?”

“Not if you keep pressing your hard-on into my back,” Eli snaps back, not missing a beat.

I contain my laugh to a snort even as Logan slaps the back of Eli’s helmet hard enough to make the passing Jets forward look around. But Dallas is on his way to the ice for a change, and Assistant Coach Bailey taps me in.

By some blessed miracle, we manage to eke out a win despite having basically no time to fully incorporate Leroy’s replacement into our formations. Winnipeg didn’t give up the ghost easily, and I’m a walking zombie as I trudge to the bus with the rest of the team. Our flight to Saint Paul isn’t until the early afternoon tomorrow, which I’m honestly grateful for at this point.

Once we reach the hotel, everyone parts ways, and I follow Eli to our room, functioning almost on autopilot. Flopping down on the first soft surface I find, I don’t even move as Eli plops down next to me.

“You’re on my bed, BlackJack,” he says, voice muffled by the mattress.

“It’s our bed now,” I mutter back.

“Fine by me.” Chuckling, he worms his way up to the headboard.

I do the same, losing my dress pants and button-down along the way, leaving me only in my underwear as I crawl under the covers. My head barely hits the pillow before I’m out like a light.

“Do you like that?” Tori pants from above me.

I nod, my hands going to her hips to help her ride me. We’re back in Vegas, and the room is dark except for the lights from the strip filtering in through the sheer curtains. Her pale skin shines with a thin layer of sweat, and I reach up to pull her mouth to mine. But as she leans forward, another figure appears behind her. Oliver, judging by the glow of golden eyes.

“Hold her for me, BlackJack. We’re going to fill up our omega in all her pretty holes.”

The mattress sinks above my head, and I look up to see Eli kneeling on the pillow, his thick cock already leaking pre-cum as he guides it toward Tori’s mouth. Looking down at me, he gives me a wink, his blue eyes nearly white in the low light.

“Do you want a taste first, Spencer? Because I don’t mind sharing this with both of you,” he purrs, shaking his cock slightly and sending a drop of his pre-cum onto my waiting tongue.

I wake with a gasp, my body tingling with awareness and my cock pulsing in time with my racing heart. The room is dark, but a little pre-dawn light is visible around the edges of the window where there’s a gap in the curtains. The dream felt so real, and I can almost feel Tori’s heat wrapped around my shaft, and even the phantom tartness of cranberries in my mouth.

I try to sit up, to get up and clear my head, but arms around my chest hold me still. When I look down, I find Eli tucked into my side, clinging to me like a koala, one leg even hooked around mine to hold on even tighter. His platinum hair is mussed, and I jolt when I realize he’s looking at me.

“You were having a wet dream,” he whispers. Not a question, but a statement of facts that I can’t deny.

“I can’t wait to get home,” I say on a sigh, flopping back against the pillow.

I shift to extract my arm from where Eli has it pinned to my side, draping it around his shoulders and squeezing. We’re silent for a moment, and I try to focus on anything other than my raging boner in an effort to go back to sleep. But as I shift again, I realize there’s something else hard in the bed, and it’s poking me in the hip.

“If you were dreaming about Tori, then why did you moan my name?” Eli asks, his softly accented voice nearly an octave lower.

Before I can answer, he’s up and straddling my thighs, his hands pressing my hips into the mattress. I’m frozen under his icicle stare, the fire behind his irises making my body break out in goosebumps. When he’s satisfied that I’m not going to throw him off, Eli slides his hands up my chest, his short nails scraping my abs.

“Knulla1, it should be illegal to be this pretty. I should call the authorities,” Eli says, laughing lightly at his own joke.

I smirk at him. “Is that your way of telling me you want to put me in handcuffs?”

Eli flashes a grin that’s equal parts salvation and sin. “I’m sure that can be arranged, if you want. Oli’s got a whole bag of tricks tucked into the back of his closet. But I prefer a hands-on approach.”

My eyebrow quirks at his turn of phrase, but I don’t get to speak the question forming on my tongue as Eli closes hisfingers around my cotton-covered bulge and gives it a firm stroke. I try to buck, but despite Eli’s smaller stature, he’s surprisingly heavy and does a good job of keeping me right where he wants me.

It’s been years since I’ve done anything with another man, and I almost regret not initiating something sooner. Tori feels like heaven, but there’s something different about the way Eli handles me. He knows where to linger, where to apply pressure, how hard to stroke to get me to the edge faster than I think I could have managed on my own.

“You’re so fucking hard,spaderknekt.2 I wish I’d brought lube with me so I could fuck you for real,” Eli mutters, almost to himself.

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