11. Riley
11
RILEY
“ W hat is he doing?” I gasp from behind my hands, eyes wide with concern as I watch Logan tackle an opposing team member before taking off down the ice like it’s melting beneath his skates. After getting reamed out by his coach for missing last week’s game and now this… he’ll be lucky not to get kicked from the team.
There are only fifteen minutes left of the game, and thank god, because Logan is out for blood tonight, and he doesn’t seem to give a shit if it’s his or someone else’s. In fact, based on the number of fights he’s started, I think he’s hoping it’ll be his blood spilled all over the ice before the final buzzer. The only reason he hasn’t been benched is because the ref has missed most of his fouls. However, with the game nearly over, Logan is growing reckless.
What I can’t understand is why he’s behaving this way.
He had seemed fine when Royce and I finally dragged ourselves off the floor of the dance studio last night and crawled into Logan’s bed. Logan left early this morning for a meeting with his coach, and since it was game day, I hadn’t seen him all day.
Except the Logan on the ice right now is not the Logan who held me in his arms all night and whispered I love you before he slipped from the room this morning. He’s a beast in a helmet and skates, barely paying attention to the puck, more focused on laying out anyone who dares go near him.
The question is, what happened?
Royce groans from beside me. “He’s on the warpath.”
He is. His hockey stick is a battle ax that he wields with deadly precision as he cuts his way across the rink, uncaring of who is in his way. Logan has a reputation for being ruthless on the ice, but this is on a whole other level. He’s been sent to the sin bin multiple times, and I’m honestly shocked he hasn’t been kicked from the game.
There’s still time.
Even as I think it, Logan crashes into another player, sending him sprawling to the ice, and the whistle blows. The other guy gets up swinging. Logan fists the front of the guy’s jersey, and then words are exchanged between them before Logan shoves at his chest, sending him backward so he can throw off his helmet and gloves.
“Oh shit,” Grayson murmurs, leaning forward in his seat, elbows on his knees as tension radiates from him.
There’s a moment where the entire stadium seems to stand still. The calm before the storm. Logan and the guy face off before Logan’s lips quirk in a savage grin that promises violence and stalls the air in my lungs.
“For fuck’s sake,” Royce groans. However, I can’t take my eyes away from the impending doom on the ice.
In the next second, the two of them are in the middle of a full-blown brawl. Fists fly as the ref’s whistle blows, nothing but white noise amongst the hoots and cajoling of the riled crowd.
“Oh my god,” I gasp from behind my hands.
“He’s going to get himself suspended,” Grayson sighs, shaking his head. Although, the tight press of his lips belies his concern for his friend.
The game is forgotten as players from both teams dive into the action—whether to pull the two fighters apart or to back them up, I’m not sure. It becomes chaos, and even standing on my seat, I can’t spot Logan amongst the other black and gold jerseys.
“Where is he?” I ask in a panic.
Royce and Grayson are on their feet too. “I can’t see him,” Royce yells to be heard over the crowd. “Damn it, Logan,” he growls, “What are you doing?”
Grayson is already moving down the aisle. Royce ushers me after him, and with a final look at the ice, I jump down from my seat. The crowd around us is just as wild as the fight on the ice, people yelling and shoving, caught up in the drama. We fight our way through the mass of bodies, each step a struggle against the tide of spectators craning their necks for a better view.
Grayson reaches back to grab my hand, tugging me until I fall into his back, while Royce shoves a man away when he moves to smack the plexiglass and nearly hits me instead. His beer spills over the rim of his cup, but we’re moving before he can say anything.
Worry for Logan clogs my throat as the chaotic energy of the crowd makes everything feel even more out of control.
“This is insane,” Grayson mutters when we finally reach the aisle. His eyes scan the ice, and I turn to follow, still unable to make out Logan amongst the other players. Refs are dragging apart players and sending them to their respective benches.
“Do you see him?” I ask frantically.
A tense moment before Royce points. “There!” My gaze bounces from player to player until I finally spot the familiar dirty blond hair of my husky. My breath catches as I watch him being escorted from the ice, his face a mask of fury and blood dripping from a cut above his eye.
“They’re sending him off,” Royce states, his voice tight with concern.
“Can we see him?” I ask, glancing between him and Grayson.
“We’ll find out.” Grayson’s expression is a mask of determination as he grasps my hand again and marches us up the stairs and away from the ice.
Perhaps because of the fight or because there is still time on the clock, but there is no security in the hallway leading to the locker rooms.
Shoving the door open, the locker room is eerily quiet as we enter. With the team still on the ice, it is empty. “He’s not here.” I march over to his locker. His street clothes are still hanging up, so he hasn’t left the stadium.
“Treatment room,” Royce says, his words only increasing the churning in my stomach. They wouldn’t have taken him there unless he needed to be seen by medical personnel, right?
Royce leads the way, probably knowing roughly where the treatment room is from his days on the football field. He pokes his head into several empty rooms before we find the right one. Inside, Logan sits on the examination table, a butterfly bandage applied to the cut above his eye. Ice packs rest on his knuckles, and his lip is split, a stark contrast to his usually composed demeanor.
“Logan,” I breathe, relief flooding me at the sight of him, but it’s mixed with a deep, gnawing worry.
Logan’s head snaps up. His hair is damp with sweat sticking to his forehead, and his expression is a mix of exhaustion and frustration. His lips twist in an uncharacteristic frown. “I’m fine, Riley.” Except his voice lacks any of its usual confidence, and he can’t seem to look me in the eye. “Just a few cuts and bruises.”
My lips purse. He never calls me Riley. It’s always Shortcake, and I fucking hate hearing my name on his tongue.
I step closer, my eyes taking in the full extent of his injuries. His jersey and shoulder pads are tossed on a nearby chair, his bare chest revealing red splotches that will bruise. From the waist down, he’s still clad in his hockey gear, skates discarded on the floor at the end of the bench.
My fingers itch to touch him, but I’m not sure if he wants me to. “Logan,” I say his name softly and wait until he finally lifts his gaze to mine. “What happened out there?”
His face pinches, and he shakes his head. “Nothing.”
Grayson scoffs behind me. “That wasn’t nothing. You were on a rampage. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get suspended for the rest of the season.”
Logan glowers at him over my shoulder until, unable to help myself, I touch his arm. His eyes snap back to mine, immediately softening. What looks like regret flashes across his chestnut hues.
“Tell me what happened,” I plead. “Please.”
Logan looks away, the muscles in his jaw working as he struggles to find the words. Royce steps forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’re all under a lot of stress, man. Whatever you’re feeling, you know you can tell us.”
Taking a deep breath, Logan’s eyes meet mine. Whatever walls he’d erected when we walked in, crumble, leaving so much pain and unspoken turmoil in their wake.
“I’m sorry, Shortcake.” Pulling me into him, I wrap my arms around his waist and breathe out a sigh of relief into his warm chest. This is my Logan. Folding over me, he presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Just… Last night. Letting you down again. Being back at square one…” He sighs, and it’s such a defeated sound that I can’t help but squeeze him tighter. “I’m sorry.”
Face pressed against his chest, I shake my head. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Logan.” Lifting my head back to see his face, I say, “You’re always taking care of me, putting my needs first. You need a way to let out your frustration.”
Brushing his thumb down my cheek, genuine regret is carved into his features as he murmurs, “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“I know.”
“Maybe next time, though, you could find a way to let out your frustration that doesn’t incite a riot and get you kicked from the game,” Royce drawls.
Ignoring him, Logan gives me a cheeky grin, and my last bit of concern fades. With a wink, he lifts his face to look at Royce. “Guess I could beat on your pretty face instead.”
Royce snorts. “If you think I won’t hit you back just because you’re gonna be a pro hockey player someday, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“I might have an alternative to beating each other up…” When Logan’s teasing brown eyes slide to mine, I press up on my toes and bring my lips to his. Stunned, his lips are unmoving against mine. However, it lasts all of a second before he relents, groaning as he kisses me back with fierce possession.
My lips part, the taste of copper sliding over my tongue and adding a primal edge to our heated kiss. There’s the sound of his ice pack hitting the examination table before his hand slides into my hair, holding me still as he devours my mouth.
“Seriously?” I hear Grayson grumble from somewhere nearby, but I don’t pay him any heed. Logan needs this.
We all do.
Climbing onto the table, my crotch slides over his as my knees fall on either side of the thick pads encasing his legs. The fact that Logan only hauls me closer shows just how badly he needs this release.
He’s been setting his feelings aside to accommodate mine. To take care of me. To ensure I’m okay. But I want to take care of him, too. I don’t want him to bottle things up until they explode out of him like they did tonight.
Just like how Royce knew I needed to dance last night.
I know Logan needs to lose himself in me.
And I want to lose myself in him too.
I’ve missed him. He’s been at my side every time I’ve needed him, and we cuddle in bed every night, but he hasn’t initiated anything sexual since that night.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he rasps, verbalizing my internal thoughts.
“I’m right here,” I assure him, stroking a hand through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
With an approving growl, he attacks my lips again. His hand slides down my spine before slipping beneath my top, and the press of his bare skin against mine is heaven. My hips rock against his in search of friction against the need stirring low in my belly.
“You can’t be fucking serious?” Grayson snaps. “You can’t do this here.”
Wrenching his lips from mine, Logan glowers at Grayson over my shoulder. His hands continue to kneed my skin as he steadily climbs his way up my ribs, bringing my top with him. “Since that’s your stance, you can stand by the door and make sure no one comes in.” Dropping his gaze to mine, he purrs, “You want to do this here, Shortcake?”
In case the grind of my pussy over his hard cock isn’t enough of an answer, I rasp, “Yes.”
He smirks, his eyes already dilated with desire as he pulls my top over my head. Before the chill of the room can hit me, I feel a warm presence at my back. Looking over my shoulder, my gaze connects with ice-blue eyes before sliding to Grayson’s taut posture.
“Don’t worry about him,” Royce murmurs. “He’s got a stick up his ass.”
Grayson snarls his contempt, even as his hungry gaze is locked on me, cataloging every movement. Taking in every inch of exposed skin that Logan is making his mission to mark with his lips.
“He still doesn’t understand what it means to share ,” Logan interjects before nipping at my throat. “But we can show him how you like to be shared, can’t we, Shortcake.”
“Mmhmm.” Words are impossible with his lips leaving trails of flames all over my skin and Royce’s rough hands like napalm as they skate along my spine while my eyes remain locked on Grayson’s.
Despite his protests, without looking away, he flicks the lock on the door, the click resonating like the starting bell before a fight throughout the room—the starter gun giving us the go-ahead.
He steps forward before Logan’s “Nu-uh” stops him in place. “You, with all your growled mines , you’re going to stand there and watch us make our girl feel good.” Logan turns me on his lap so I’m facing the other way, my back to his chest and Royce in front of me. Bending to kiss my neck, he says loud enough for Grayson to hear on the far side of the small room, “That is if our girl is okay with you watching.” A kiss to the sensitive spot beneath my ear has me arching my spine. “What do you think, Shortcake? Should we kick the asshole out?”
Tilting my head to give Logan better access, I cast my heavy gaze over Grayson. His posture is rigid, his fingers digging into his palms at his side as he stares at the spot where Logan lavishes my skin.
“I vote for kicking him out,” Royce deadpans. “He hasn’t earned a spot in this yet.”
While I agree, I do like the thought of torturing Grayson and giving him a taste of his own medicine.
“He can stay,” I state authoritatively. “But he can only watch,” I smirk. “And he can’t come.”
Logan barks out a laugh while Royce grins. Grayson glowers, even as his gaze smolders with need.
“Shortcake has spoken. No touching your dick, Gray, and don’t think we’re going to make this easy on you.” As if to prove his point, Logan unclasps my bra, letting the straps fall down my arms until Royce pulls it away, dropping it on the floor nearby.
Logan palms my tits, kneading and squeezing while I writhe in his lap. My breaths become pants as he nips and tugs on my nipples, forcing them into stiff peaks.
“Fuck, I love your tits,” he rasps in my ear. “You want Royce to suck on them, baby?”
“Yes.” Eyes at half-mast, I lick my lips as Royce ducks, bringing a nipple to his lips and sucking it into his mouth. I moan as the sensation sends sparks straight to my core, and I shift on Logan’s lap, desperate for friction.
“That’s it, Shortcake, grind on me,” he growls. His hand wraps around my jaw, fingers digging into my cheeks as he wrenches my head to the side, his lips capturing mine in an intoxicating kiss. He licks and bites at my mouth while Royce sucks on my tits, and I make a mess of my panties.
“More, please,” I practically beg when they’ve descended me into a ball of aching need.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Logan teases, already popping the button off my jeans. Royce releases my nipple with a pop as he moves to help me out of my jeans and panties. “Bring your knees up, Shortcake. Show them that sweet pussy of yours.”
Leaning back on Logan, I plant my feet on the examination table and spread my legs.
“Fuck,” Grayson hisses, his hand swiping across his mouth as he stares unblinking at my pussy.
Logan’s chest vibrates with a chuckle, and he murmurs in my ear. “I bet he’s regretting all those times he chose to be an asshole right about now.”
Bringing his fingers to my slit, he dips two inside me, pumping before pulling out and spreading my juices over my clit. Royce licks his lips, watching the erotic act. Noticing, Logan comments, “Royce looks like he’s starving. You gonna let him feast on you, baby?”
He already feasted on me last night, but Logan is right. Royce looks like he’ll fall to his knees at my say so.
“We need your words, Ry,” Logan encourages when I merely nod.
“Yes,” I say almost desperately. “I want you to eat me out, Royce.”
With a groan, Royce’s knees hit the floor with a soft thud before he buries his face between my thighs. The feel of his tongue on my heated core rips a moan from my throat, and my head falls to rest against Logan’s chest as sensation after sensation is coaxed from my body until I’m a trembling mess in Logan’s arms.
“Look at Grayson,” Logan murmurs. I flick my eyes open, not remembering when I closed them, to find Grayson staring hungrily at where Royce is lapping at my folds. “See how badly he wants you?” Logan continues in a quiet voice. Not that I think Grayson is aware of anything else in the room right now. “How he’s struggling to hold himself back?” Dropping my gaze over his body, I see how his feet are planted hip-width apart, his hands tight fists at his sides, even as his body leans forward, straining to get as close as possible without disobeying the rules laid out for him. “His brain might struggle with the concept of sharing you, but his body has no such reservations. He’s as obsessed with you as we are.”
As if he heard those words, Grayson’s gaze snaps to mine, the dark depths of his eyes holding me hostage as an orgasm barrels through me, pressing beneath my skin and tearing me open until I’m screaming.
The aftershocks are still wracking my body, and my head is in the clouds, when I feel pressure at my entrance before Logan slides in with zero resistance.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hisses, teeth gritted, as he pulls me down on top of him. Fingers firm on my hips, he lifts me before dragging me back down. Our breaths are nothing but pants as I move, getting my legs beneath me so I can fuck him. “You wanna ride me?”
“Yes,” I say, looking back at him over my shoulder. “I want to make you feel good, too.”
Logan’s face is smoothed out in pleasure, displaying his sincere and loving smile. “I always feel good when I’m inside you, Shortcake, but if you want to fuck me, I’m not about to say no.” Leaning back on his hands, he smirks. “I’m more than happy to watch that tight ass of yours bounce on my cock.”
Grinning, I place my hands on his knees and ride him reverse cowgirl. “Fuck, that feels insane,” Logan grinds, his hand stroking up and down my spine. The sound of a zipper renders through the air, and I lift my head to find Royce fisting his cock as he watches me ride his best friend.
“Hottest fucking thing I’ve seen,” he agrees.
“Hotter than when she sucked your cock in front of us?” Logan teases, his voice strained.
“Yes,” Grayson all but growls his input to the conversation from his position by the door.
Royce swipes his thumb over the bead of precum gathering at his tip, smearing it. His piercing glints in the light, and my pussy clenches, remembering how it felt scraping against my inner walls last night.
“Fuck, our girl needs more,” Logan strains. “You want Royce too, Shortcake?”
I mewl my agreement, my nerve endings on fire from all the stimulation and how close I am to coming again.
“Royce, come here, take our girl,” Logan dictates. He slides me off his cock, and I whimper at the loss of him.
“Shh, Shortcake. We’re going to take care of you.” He presses a quick kiss to my sweaty temple before passing me over to Royce. “Royce is going to impale you on that metal glittering dick of his,” he says, fisting his engorged cock.
“I don’t have a metal dick, fuckwit,” Royce snarls, all while steadying me on my feet and pressing between my shoulder blades. My hands tighten around the edge of the examination table, and I lower my face to Logan’s hard cock, standing sentinel like a red flag waving in the wind.
Pulling me back by my hips, he sinks effortlessly into me as I swipe my tongue out to taste myself on Logan’s blunt head before lowering my mouth over his length.
The room fills with the sound of the three of us. Heavy pants, soft moans, and the slap of skin against skin. It’s sexy. Heady. Intoxicating. And in no time at all, tingles erupt along my spine, heat expanding outward from my core.
“Fuck she’s close,” Royce grunts, picking up his pace as Logan buries himself deeper in my throat.
On the precipice, my orgasm dangles just out of reach for endless seconds until I feel an unfamiliar pressure at my backside.
“Has anyone ever fucked you here?” Royce asks in a low, desire-dripped tone.
I shake my head, mumbling a no around Logan’s thick cock.
The pressure increases as Royce pushes the tip of his finger inside, but the pain has nothing on the pleasure wracking my body. The sting only heightens the sensation.
“Good,” he purrs. “This hole is ours. One day, we’re going to fill all of your holes. Have you so full that you’ll feel like you’re going to burst from your skin. We’re going to fill you with our cum—all three of us.”
As if he knew that was what I needed, my release rushes to the surface at the image of all three of them taking me at once. With another couple of pumps, Royce explodes in my cunt, and Logan grunts as he spills down my throat.
My legs give out, and Logan bundles me into his arms before I can collapse. Eyes narrowed, my hazy gaze lands on Grayson. More specifically, the blatantly obvious hard-on stretching the fabric of his jeans, before I slowly drag them up to his face.
The extent of the hunger, the possession burning in those dark depths, should terrify me.
It should.
But it doesn’t.
It makes me excited for when I can have them all .