Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys 2)

“It might be a lot to ask, but I figured it’s the most logical thing.”

“You? Logical? Since when?”

“Ha ha. You’re sooo funny.”

The thing is, it is logical. We’re married, so we may as well get the perks of it.

But how will adding sex to our dynamic—no matter how much I’ve wanted this for years—affect our friendship?

And as if even contemplating doing this with Dex summons him, my phone starts ringing with Oskar’s name on the screen. Again. I hit the Ignore button for the billionth time and wonder how long it will take for him to get sick of me ignoring him and hop a plane to Vegas.

Our summer only has a couple of weeks left, so I’m hoping he’s too busy to come yell at me in person. The other guys have tried to contact me, but they’re nowhere near as pushy and protective as Oskar is.

Thanks to making it to the Stanley Cup finals last season, our vacation has been short, but I’d go back to practice tomorrow if it meant I could avoid Oskar for longer. But thinking of preseason training also makes me pause. Because if Dex and I do this, it could affect our team too.

“What about the team?” I ask Dex.

“What about them? This has nothing to do with them. This is about you and me. About us.”

Us.

Dex and Tripp.

The Mitchell brothers.

Best friends.

Husbands.

Fuck buddies?

Then again, can you really be fuck buddies with your husband?

Nineteen

DEX

When our break started, I never would have believed I’d be in a relationship with my best friend by the end of it. It’s a weird dynamic because he’s my husband, but we’ve really only just started dating, so he should be my boyfriend, but on the other hand, it’s Tripp.

If I’d pulled my head out of my ass years ago and realized how good it is to have sex with him, we probably would be married by now anyway—if we’d ever wanted that—because the only difference between then and now is that I get to make him come at night.

And goddamn, whoever sent me that message was right—it is the hottest thing I’ve ever done.

“So what’s on the agenda for today?” Tripp asks, joining me in the kitchen. He’s pulled on a pair of sleep shorts, even though we’ve both been sleeping naked every night. I pull him to me and snap the elastic waistband in protest.

“Can the first thing be banning pants?” I ask.

“Our sisters might stop visiting if we bring that rule in.”

“Good,” I grumble. “Then we’ll stop being interrupted when we want to have sex.”

The last few nights this week, our sisters have taken it upon themselves to stop in for dinner or invite us out for drinks. It’s nothing unusual to how it normally is during the off-season, but it does mean I haven’t been getting anywhere near enough orgasms.

Tripp laughs. “I’ve had so many handjobs this week my dick is going to get chafed.”

“About that …” I shift, rubbing my thumbs over his sides. “Maybe I could, ah, try using my mouth next time.”

“You want to suck me off?”

I’m quick to nod, and I can’t seem to make myself stop.

Tripp strokes my throat. “Will you swallow?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Think you’re man enough to take it all?” I know that’s Tripp’s teasing voice. I’m just not sure whether it’s because he thinks I can’t eat cum, or I’m all talk with no follow-through.

“Let’s find out.” Then I sink to my knees, pulling his shorts down with me.

Eye to eye with his cock, I have a moment’s hesitation.

“Problem?” Tripp asks.

“Looks a whole lot different from this angle.” He’s not fully erect yet, but this close up, I can see his manscaped red pubes, heavy balls, and rapidly thickening length. The scent of sex hits my nose and makes my own cock take interest.

Okay. Time to blow my best friend’s mind by blowing his other head first.

I take him in my hand and lean in to lick the swollen tip. Hmm. Okay. Skin. A hint of bodywash. Not bad. I flatten out my tongue and lick him again, then start at the base and work my way up. My tongue traces every vein and dips into the ridge under his head, and when a tiny bead of precum appears, I lean in to taste it.

It tastes a little salty, but … I think I like it. My lips wrap around the tip, and I suck, trying to draw more out, to get another taste, and when it bursts on my tongue, the taste shoots straight to my cock. Yep. Okay. I definitely, definitely like that.

I press my palm to where my cock is straining against my briefs as my gaze flicks up to check in with Tripp.

His lips are parted, pupils blown, and when our gazes clash, he lets out this strangled noise in his throat and drops back to lean against the counter.