Shameless Puckboy (Puckboys Book 3)
Shameless Puckboy: Chapter 18

I’M STILL on a high from having a good day and an even better afternoon in the shower that when I hit the ice, I’m unstoppable.

Almost to the point I suspect Tripp of taking pity on me for having a full-time babysitter and letting me score. Not only am I blocking any attempts on our own goal by making sure Vegas can’t even get into position to take a shot, but I’ve even got myself a Gordie Howe hat trick: a goal, an assist, and a fight in the same game.

I didn’t even start the fight, so I only got five minutes and McGillan got ten, giving San Jose a power play that put us solidly in the lead.

Vegas is falling apart in frustration, and it fuels me. I mean, aww, poor Dex and Tripp. But no, seriously, this game is amazing.

It’s the best playing I’ve done in a while, and that’s saying something because I’ve got serious beard burn in my ass, and I always play great. The terrible practice is forgotten, and I’m at the top of my game. If only I could go out after this and celebrate the way I normally would.

Instead, I’ll be forced to behave myself with my watchful prison guard hovering. His promises of what will happen after will have to get me through. And as much as I might pretend to pout about it, I’m looking forward to blowing him again.

Dancing into the locker room after an epic win helps keep up my energy. Everyone is on a high, and even though we’d usually be going out as a team to celebrate, they all know I have other plans.

“Remember to thank Tripp for us,” Jarett says.

“Because that won’t rub salt into the wound or anything. They’re having a really shitty season. I’m going to go easy on him.”

“Really?” Jarett asks.

“Fuck no.”

We all laugh, but honestly, I won’t be gloating. The Collective is about supporting each other. Even if we sometimes might be overprotective of each other.

We cool down, shower, and dress, and Aleks approaches me, his face ashen. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” I look him up and down. “You look like you’re about to wet yourself. The Collective is a no-judgment zone. Well, unless you deserve it. Then we will rip you to pieces.”

“You’re making me feel so much calmer,” he deadpans. Then he glances around the locker room. “It’s not the Collective I’m nervous about. It’s …”

“Everyone else? You don’t have to tell anyone you’re not ready to.”

“Going out with you tonight instead of them might tip them off.”

I sometimes forget what it’s like to be worried about people replaceing out about me. I’ve been out for so long it’s part of my identifier. People see me as Oskar Voyjik: gay hockey player with all the depth of a fuckboy.

“Want me to text you Tripp’s address and we can go separately?”

He thinks about it but then says, “Screw it,” and turns to the team. “Hey, guys. I won’t be going out with you either. I’m going out with Voyjik.”

There are some confused glances, but it’s mostly shrugged off.

“Because I’m bi,” Aleks adds.

“That makes more sense than what I was thinking,” Rosky says.

“What were you thinking?” I ask.

“That your fifth PR rep abandoned you, and because Aleks is old and responsible and whatever, he’s been put in charge of your ass.”

In perfect timing, Lane enters the room as the press conference ends, and I can’t resist.

“I’ve already told Aleks he can be in charge of my ass anytime he likes.”

Everyone laughs. Except for Lane.

Mission accomplished.

“I still have my very own babysitter.” I gesture toward Lane.

“You know you wouldn’t need one if you knew how to keep your dick in your pants,” Jarett says.

“It’s a constant fight.” I reach for my fly.

Everyone’s used to my antics, so they turn back to their cubbies to finish getting ready to head out instead of acknowledging me. They all learned quickly that responding urges me on.

Aleks leans in close to me. “Can you please be there for every time I come out?”

I grip his shoulder. “I’m there for you anytime you need the focus taken off you and put on me. Just say the word. I’m good at causing a scene.”

“So I’ve heard. And … saw.”

I can’t be sure, but I think Aleks is referring to my awesome sex tape in the alleyway.

“Ready to head out?” Lane’s gruff tone sends shivers down my spine, and there’s no way I’m going to make it all night without claiming my prize. I want his cock in my mouth, and I’m going to spend the next few hours teasing him to move up his timeline.

I don’t want to wait until we’re back in the hotel room.

The three of us leave together and get a rideshare to Tripp’s apartment. He lives so close to the Strip, I can’t deny it was smart for Lane to come. What wasn’t smart for him was cutting me off so he could slide inside the car before me so I couldn’t sit in the middle next to Aleks, who got in on the other side.

I don’t think Lane realizes how much his jealousy act turns me on.

On the ride to Tripp’s, I widen my legs so our thighs are pressed against each other.

He glares at me, but hey, this is his fault. He voluntarily sat between two hockey players in the back of a Mazda 3. It’s cozy. Only made cozier by me taking up more room than I really need to.

I wink at him, so his frown deepens.

I love it.

We arrive at Tripp’s way too soon, because I’ve never had this much fun in the back of an Uber before. Oh, wait, that’s a lie. I once hooked up with an Uber driver when playing an away game in LA, but I dunno, this might even be better than that.

That was sex. This is like fore-foreplay. It’s a lead-up, and sometimes, that can make the payoff even more explosive.

Plus, I dunno. I like being around Lane. Teasing him. Messing with him. I like knowing that I can affect him when he’s normally so in control. I’m the one who makes him slip.

I’m not worth it, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping him.

When I enter Tripp’s apartment, both he and Dex look sullen.

“Okay, let’s have it,” Tripp says. “Let the gloating begin.”

Lane follows me in and then Aleks. Surprise flits through Tripp’s eyes, but he schools it fast.

“Instead of gloating, I figured I’d offer the Collective a present. New blood.”

Tripp’s gaze ping-pongs between Lane and Aleks. “I don’t think PR reps are included in our arrangement. Lane’s always welcome, but he can’t officially join or anything.”

“It’s me,” Aleks says and then screws up his face. “Can I come out publicly already?” he asks Lane. “Then at least everyone will know, and I won’t have to awkwardly fumble every time I blurt I’m bi.”

Lane looks sympathetic but says, “We want you to be legally divorced before you say anything, or people are going to think you left Rebecca for a man. And I know it’s not the thing you want to hear, but it’s probably best if you focus on dating women first before you even think about being seen with a man, or the public will come to their own conclusions.”

“That’s such bullshit,” I mutter, and everyone agrees.

Even Lane. “I know it is, but we don’t want to be perpetuating stereotypes that all bisexual men will leave their female partners for other men because they can’t make up their minds. Or worse, that he’s saying he’s bi to hide that he’s actually gay. That misconception needs to be changed. So the plan is divorce. Date a couple of women. You don’t even need to go on second dates. I can arrange for you to date some B-list celebrities, and then after a few, you can come out and date whoever you want.”

“It sucks that I’m ready to take that leap and tell the world. No, I’m available to take that leap. I’ve been ready for years but saw no real point in it when I was happily married. Maybe I should’ve done it sooner, and then there wouldn’t be all this red tape with coming out.”

“I understand,” Lane says. “I really do. But being a public figure—”

“I know.” Aleks sounds so dejected. “I just wanted to point out that it sucks.”

I slap his shoulder. “Welcome to the club of sucky double standards purely because we’re awesome. And on that note, let’s celebrate the glorious win tonight by drinking all of Tripp and Dex’s expensive whiskey.”

“Oh, so fun for me,” Lane says.

“Babysitting is your job here, isn’t it?” I drag Aleks to where Tripp keeps his liquor.

I pull out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and glasses from under the counter.

“No Macallan tonight?” Tripp asks.

“Nope. Not enough of us here to induct Aleks. Could you imagine Ezra’s face if we did that without him? He loves those things.”

Tripp nods. “True. I used to think it was because he was expanding his hookup pool, but now that he’s with Anton, he’s still just as excited to welcome new members.” He gasps. “Could … Ezra be … thoughtful and supportive?”

We all contemplate it for a moment.

I shake my head. “Nah. Not possible. Must be something else.”

“Agreed,” Tripp and Dex say in unison.

Aleks looks from one to the other. “You guys seem fun.”

“We are. And don’t worry, Ezra will throw you your own welcome party when the time comes.”

“When I’m allowed to.” Aleks side glances at Lane.

“Hey, we’re both on Lane’s leash now. Ooh, kinky.” I smile at Lane and lift a glass in his direction. “Come on. Live a little. We promise to be good boys for you.”

I love the way Lane looks like he’s trying to decide between yelling at me, spanking me, or fucking me right here in front of everyone.

And even with all that, I’m sure I pick up a twinkle of … tolerance? Amusement?

Dex whispers to Tripp, “I know I’m usually slow, but he’s trying to tempt Lane into a threesome, right?”

Tripp snorts.

“Even I’m not that stupid to think Lane would break his rules for me.” Lies. My goal is to get him to break all of them for me, and I’m off to a great start.

Instead of playing my game, Lane reaches for the glass of whiskey. “I’m going to need this tonight.”

“He’s getting used to me, I swear.”

Tripp pats my head. “I’ve never known someone to be proud of almost being tolerated, but you pull it off.”

“I have really low standards for my friends. And hookups. Actually, I just have really low standards.”

Everyone in the room says, “We know.”

And even though we’re all joking around—myself included—it does sting to realize I am actually at that point.

Lane makes me see that I really don’t have much self-respect. I’ve known it for a long time, but it’s finally hitting home how sad that is. I thought I was happy and living my best life. But as much as going out and hooking up with randos who didn’t give a shit about me was fun, I’m realizing I never once got the validation I needed from them.

I don’t think I’ll ever have that.

And that’s kinda depressing.

Maybe Lane’s right and I don’t have to be that persona all the time. Maybe it’s time to pull back. It’s scary even contemplating it, but I originally started doing it to protect myself, and now it’s risking my entire livelihood.

I hate to agree with Lane, but … it’s time to grow up.

That’s so fucking gross.

My gaze seeks out his, and I regret it instantly. His face is pinched with concern, like he’s picked up on the change in me, and of course he has. It’s rare I try to hide my moods because no one cares enough to pay attention. Except him. He catches everything.

I quickly look away.

We carry our drinks out onto Tripp’s terrace and take seats surrounding his automatic gas firepit. The thought crosses my mind that it would be better to step back from Lane and this messed-up system we have where he’ll get me off if I do all the PR things he wants me to, but at the same time, it’s probably the only reason I haven’t self-destructed yet.

Putting myself out there like I did today with the Rainbow Raiders was daunting, but I’m glad I pushed through and did it, and the only thing that got me there was the promise of another orgasm from Lane.

I could put blind trust into him and do whatever he says because it will be good for my image, or I could keep using his incentives as a reward for putting myself out there time and time again.

When our eyes lock again, his promise to feed me his cock for dessert flits through my mind, and I decide I need to take baby steps.

Just because I’ve decided to pull in line and grow up, that doesn’t mean I’m ready to leave my fuckboy status behind completely.

That’s obviously all this need is.

It has nothing to do with the fact I’m starting to like having Lane’s attention.