Open Ice Hit (The Sin Bin Book 2)

Normally, when he spent any amount of time at Zed’s parents’, Noah felt good. Better than good, in fact. He was fed, and loved on, and got to spend time with his best friend. Sometimes Zed’s nieces were there too, and he got a little bit of his kid fix, which was nice since he’d taken a few summers off from coaching the Brooklyn Phantoms peewee team when the stress of cramming one more thing into his schedule had become too much.

But tonight, there was still something simmering under his skin. It had been a while since the incident with Tommy, but it was fucking with him like it had been yesterday. He’d gone to a club twice and hooked up once to try to wash the taste of Tommy’s tongue out of his mouth, but nothing had helped.

He was left with this ghost of a fucked-up orgasm that was haunting his every waking hour.

Flopping onto his sofa, he picked up his phone and opened up Instagram. On a whim, just before the Cup, he’d followed Tommy on social media. Keep your enemies close, he told himself after the incident when he didn’t unfollow.

It had nothing to do with the fact that—as much as Noah hated him—Tommy was one of the most gorgeous men he had ever met in his entire life.

Now, he told himself he was just going to rage scroll to see what that little shit was up to. Nothing good, he figured. Maybe he was out, attempting to ruin someone else’s career.

He felt small and young with all that bitterness sitting on the back of his tongue just waiting to form angry, vicious words. This wasn’t the man he’d set out to be, but then again, he didn’t expect to be a veteran hockey player, slowly but surely aging out of the game. Yes, he had years left, but less than Tommy. Less than a lot of people.

His bones were already aching.

Thumb scrolling a little too fast, Noah blinked, then his gaze settled on a selfie of Tommy and one of the Phantoms. Henny was in the background wearing his usual smirk, his arm around a guy Noah didn’t recognize. But in front of him was Tommy, looking full of himself, and beside him was CeCe.

Which meant he was at the party.

He was out having fun at the place where Zed desperately wanted to be and couldn’t. Thanks to him. Thanks to Tommy’s reckless, dirty play.

Noah didn’t even realize he’d gotten up until he had his car keys in his hand and was halfway out the door. A small voice told him not to go—to just stay inside and not bother—but the louder voice overwhelmed any protests he wanted to make.

CeCe’s place wasn’t even that far away—a luxury house on Hampton Avenue with three floors, a pool, and hallways Noah hadn’t bothered to explore the few times he’d gone. There was also a valet, he noticed, when he pulled up, and no one batted an eye as he climbed out of the car and tossed one of them his keys.

He was let in the door by security, who gave him a short nod, then he pushed his way through the crowd of people and struggled to see the place as a house and not some makeshift nightclub. It was loud and smelled like sweat, over-priced designer fragrances, booze, and weed.

There were large pockets of empty space in the living room because everyone was mostly crowded just outside the back doors. He didn’t recognize anyone at first until a massive arm slid around his waist and a slurring Russian voice murmured in his ear.

“Vicki come to party!”

He turned his head and rolled his eyes at Yelisei—the Sea Dogs’ newest member. “What the fuck are you doing here, Mayo?”

His toothless grin widened. Rookie or not, he’d managed to integrate with both New York teams like he’d been playing there for a decade. “Was invited like you. CeCe like my company. Am best company, you know. You want drink? I get you some shots. Come. We drink and be friends before we face off for first time on ice and I destroy you.”

Noah attempted to fight him off, but Mayo had about sixty pounds of pure Russian muscle on him and managed to bully him into the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of the cheapest-looking vodka Noah had ever seen and filled three small glasses.

“Here. You catch up.”

He was fairly sure that vodka would take paint off a car, not to mention his stomach lining, but just as he opened his mouth to refuse, he saw him. Tommy, looking as beautiful as ever and grinning like he fucking knew it.

He was in jeans that looked tailored to his body and a button-up shirt that was open save for the very last button like it was attempting to cling on to the last of its dignity. His hair was mussed, and his cheeks were pink, and he was laughing in that open-mouthed way he always laughed in his Instagram videos when he was drunk.

Noah watched him for too long, leaning into the arms of a guy who was no doubt a model, if his clothes and lanky limbs were anything to go by. When the stranger leaned in and whispered something into Tommy’s ear, he snatched up the first glass and took it down.

When Tommy blushed, he drank the second.

And when Tommy whispered something back, he downed the third.

A large hand landed on his shoulder, then Mayo was right up in his space. “You want to fuck or fight?”

Noah blinked up at him. “Uh…neither. You’re not my type.”

Mayo threw his head back and laughed, then tugged Noah closer. “Not me. I see you watch my boy.” He jutted his chin toward Tommy, who was letting himself be led up onto a coffee table to start some complicated dance move Noah was pretty sure Zed made him watch on TikTok a dozen times. “You want to fuck or fight?”

“Neither,” he said again, this time with more venom, mostly to cover his lie. If he wasn’t busy lying to himself, he might be willing to admit just how fucking badly he wanted both.

Mayo scoffed, then poured another shot for him and slid it across the marble counter. “We’re here to have fun, not hold grudge. Drink.”

Noah looked him dead in the eye. “Pahyékahlee.”

Mayo whooped, then took the shot himself and took it down. “I knew I like you for good reason, Vicki.”

“Well, not everyone on your team is a dirty shit.”

Mayo’s grin faded. “Tommy’s good guy. Almost good as me. Best for not being Russian.” His voice took on an almost threatening tone. “It was accident, and I think you know. We all watch tape. Clean hit.”

Noah licked his lips. “He almost ruined his career.”

With a scoff, Mayo poured another shot and shoved it into his hands. Noah took it quickly before the massive man could take it away again. “Everyone almost ruin career all the time. It’s why is hockey. Is why we play. Is how we win Cup again this year. With me on team this time,” he added with a wink.

Now that was a challenge. It was a small fuck you right to his face because the Sea Dogs were Cup winners, and Noah was…

Not.

He was not. He was every bit the failure his father had been telling him he would be if he followed this path. He swallowed thickly, then set the shot glass down and bowed his head. “I’m gonna take a walk.”

He was grateful when Mayo didn’t follow him or try to stop him. He put distance between himself and the kitchen and wandered the rooms, pretending he wasn’t keeping Tommy constantly in his periphery. He felt the vodka hit him, but not as hard as it might have years ago. Not as hard as it should have, and he wondered if he’d been relying on booze a little too much to dull the pain.

Pressing his hand to the wall, he breathed out a short, stuttered sigh and squeezed his eyes shut. He shouldn’t have come. It was the most ridiculous fucking idea he’d had all summer. He should have just left Tommy to his fucking joy, to his celebration of a robbed championship at the expense of Noah’s friend.

Because Mayo was right about one thing: it was hockey. It was how they were all going to go out one of these days.

“Well, well. Look what the sea monster dragged in. Or is it a ghost? Are phantoms ghosts?”

Noah didn’t look up. He didn’t need to. That voice was seared into his brain, even if it was thick and slurring with way too much alcohol. “Dra åt helvete.” He didn’t mean to let his fatigue creep into his tone, but he couldn’t help it.

Tommy froze. “Tellin’ me you love me again?”

Noah’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not what it means, and I know you know that.”

Tommy just laughed, then Noah felt him in his space. “Yeah, I asked around.” He went silent for a moment, then let out a breath and shook his head. “Come on, bud. Are you really going to show up to a party and poop on everyone’s good time?”

Noah turned to him and narrowed his eyes. “You’re drunk. Walk away before you say something you’ll regret.”

Tommy’s laugh turned into a small giggle, and fuck, Noah hated how much he wanted to hear that sound again. “What could I possibly say that hasn’t already been said, eh? I mean, I could say how much I like the taste of your come. Or how you know the right way to hold my cock. Or how I—”

He yelped when Noah’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hauling him down the hallway and into an empty room. Tommy smirked when the door slammed, but his expression faded into something else as Noah shoved him against the wall and pushed a finger into his face.

“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Why?” Tommy asked. He stuck his tongue out and lunged for Noah’s hand, but Noah managed to wrench it away before the other man could lick him. “You ashamed?”

“Of how you’re behaving? How drunk and reckless you are? How you’re throwing yourself all over any man who will look at you?”

He’d gone too far. He saw the exact moment when Tommy’s teasing smirk turned into a full glower. “Oh, slut shaming me, eh? That’s really cute. You know that shit is passé, asshole.”

Noah clenched his teeth together because…fuck, that wasn’t what he’d meant, but Tommy seemed to dig his claws in and tear the worst out of him every damn time.

After a beat, Tommy’s smirk returned. “Oh my God, you’re jealous.”

Noah reared back, though he kept his grip on Tommy’s shirt, and he laughed in his face. “Jealous of what? That pathetic display out there?”

“That I’m willing to put my hands on someone who isn’t you,” Tommy spat.

Noah realized he was the one touching Tommy and let him go. “You think I want to fuck you again?”

Tommy lunged before Noah could stop him, spinning him around and pressing him to the wall. His breath was hot, and it smelled like a mix of too many different drinks he knew Tommy was going to regret. “I think,” he whispered, his teeth grazing Noah’s ear, “you want to put me on my knees. I think you want to take me by the throat and fuck the breath out of me.”

Noah’s entire body jolted, and he might have actually done something he regretted if Tommy hadn’t suddenly swayed and hiccupped a foul-smelling burst of liquored air. “Herre gud, you are so drunk.”

“Mm, no.” Tommy swayed again, though, and leaned a little too far into Noah for his own comfort. “I’m totally fine. I could drive right now. Give me your keys, and I’ll show you.”

Noah swore again, then lashed his arm around Tommy and began to pull him toward the door. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re going to pass out.”

Tommy protested, but he walked along, waving at people and flipping a few others off. He stumbled a little as they made it down the steps, and it was almost like magic when the valet appeared.

“I’ve got the beige G-Wagen,” he told the man, trying to keep one arm around Tommy who pulled at him like he wanted to wander off. “Stay fucking put!”

Tommy froze, his eyes a little wide at the command. “Fuck you, sunshine. You drive a beige car. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Noah wanted to shut the man’s mouth. Maybe with his own mouth. With his tongue or maybe a couple of fingers. Maybe with his dick again.

Luckily, it didn’t get that far, and his car appeared a few moments later. He gave Tommy a shove, and the man went limp on him, so Noah dragged him into the passenger seat and reached over to buckle him in.

“You’re a child.”

“You’re an asshole,” Tommy shot back.

Noah rolled his eyes and tossed the guy with his keys whatever cash he had in his wallet, then slammed the door. Tommy was sitting with his arms crossed, but when Noah fired up the GPS on his screen, Tommy leaned over and tapped in his address without being asked.

Good boy, Noah almost said. Almost. The words died on his tongue, but they tasted rich and intense, like burning coals in the back of his throat. He gripped the wheel almost painfully, then followed the directions across town without bothering to say a word.

Tommy lived in Astoria, which was closer to Noah’s than he expected, and he tried not to think about how fast he could get there if Tommy ever called. Not that Noah would let himself if that happened.

He put the car in park at the curb, then stared at Tommy who was fumbling with his seat belt. “Do you need help with that?”

Tommy scoffed. “Seriously, man, just fuck off. You already ruined my fun for the night.”

Noah was surprised at how the words stung, and he sat in the seat for a moment as he watched Tommy stumble toward his door. When he tripped a second time, Noah swore under his breath, then let himself out and all but ran to catch him before he actually blew a tire on the pavement.

Tommy clung to him a little tightly, but when he looked up at Noah, his eyes were far clearer than they had been before. The silence between them stretched on, then Tommy took a step, and Noah followed.

Noah wasn’t entirely surprised to find Tommy’s place untidy, with the faint scent of workout sweat and designer cologne hanging in the air. There were dishes on the counter, take-out boxes on the coffee table, and boxers and t-shirts thrown around. There was a toque that looked suspiciously like Zed’s handiwork, and it made Noah’s gut clench at just how integrated Tommy had made himself in the periphery of Noah’s world.

“Want a drink?” Tommy asked.

Noah blinked at him, not at the offer but at the fact that the slur from his voice was gone. “Are you actually drunk?”

Tommy’s smirk widened, and he shrugged. “Buzzing a little, I think.”

“So before…was that just some performance?”

Tommy took a step closer, then another. His third step put him within touching distance, and Noah felt his annoyance turn into something close to anger as his hands lifted and curled into Tommy’s shirt.

“Got you here, didn’t it?”

Noah bared his teeth in a grimace. “Are you fucking serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Tommy said, almost shoving his body against Noah’s clawed hands. “You were too ashamed to admit you wanted to fuck me at CeCe’s, but what about here where no one’s watching? You wanna bend me over the couch? Or maybe throw me against the table?” Tommy wrenched out of Noah’s grasp and took several steps back, around the sofa, and toward the kitchen.

Noah followed like he was helpless, like Tommy was magnetic. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

Tommy grinned and popped open the button on his jeans as his back hit the kitchen table, then he pushed his hand past the waistband, and Noah could only imagine how it looked when he gripped himself. “Want to make me?”

It was like something in Noah snapped. He was on him, ripping his hands out of his jeans and pinning his arms in the air by his wrists. “When I let go, you’re going to turn around and put your hands on the table.”

Tommy gave him a single tug—not hard enough to tell Noah he wanted to be let go, though. “Or what?”

Noah lowered his voice, leaning in close. “Or you don’t get to come.” Tommy sucked in a breath, but Noah wasn’t finished. Now that he’d gotten started, he couldn’t stop. “I’m going to turn you around no matter what, and I’m going to come on your ass, but whether or not you get to get off is up to you.”

Tommy swallowed thickly, then gently pried his hands away. The moment hung in the air, the choice. And then Tommy spun and laid his hands on the table. “Well?” he demanded as Noah stood frozen. “You gonna actually do it, or am I going to fall asleep over here?”

Noah didn’t realize he’d growled until the sound hit his ears, but then his hands were on his own jeans, tearing them open and shoving them down to his hips. He heard Tommy suck in a sharp breath, but when the man tried to turn his head to look, Noah grabbed him by the hair and kept him in place.

“Be good,” he ordered.

Tommy swallowed so thickly Noah heard it catch in his throat.

With more gentle motions, Noah’s hands began to tug at Tommy’s clothes. They slipped past his hips and over his cock, and he heard his erection bounce up and slap his stomach. His own cock throbbed, dribbling precome from the tip as his head pushed against the foreskin. He gave himself a single stroke to get his cock fully hard, then he let it slap against the inside of Tommy’s thighs.

The other man sucked in another breath, then bowed his head. “You gonna shut me up, sunshine, or you just gonna pet me all day?”

He heard the taunts for what they were. Tommy wanted to feel it. He wanted to hurt a little and be overwhelmed a lot.

This was nothing like Noah’s usual hookups. They were usually quick and dirty with nameless, faceless people he didn’t give a shit about. It was getting off and letting go and then never looking back.

But not this time. This time, he was aware of the person beneath him. He was aware of Tommy’s every twitch and every breath. This time, he’d seen his partner in action both on and off the ice—full of passion and rage and fire. And he knew how to stoke it.

His hand crept between Tommy’s legs, wrenching them apart farther, then he grabbed his balls and held tight. It was just enough to make Tommy gasp. When he shuddered hard, Noah let him go, shoving Tommy harder against the table as he found his cock and gave it a single tug.

“Nothing clever to say now?” he asked. When Tommy made a sound, he squeezed hard and stroked up, and the sound died in the back of the other man’s throat. Noah grinned. “Am I still boring you?”

He let Tommy’s cock go, then leaned back to spread his cheeks, letting his own wet dick slide between his crack. He caught on his rim for a second, and Noah viciously hated himself for not being prepped for this moment, for the chance to slide into him.

But that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to wreck Tommy’s ass to wreck him.

“Hold yourself open,” he commanded.

Tommy whimpered, and his arms tensed like he was fighting himself, but then he reached back and did as Noah said. Noah couldn’t stop his groan as he grabbed the base of his dick and smacked Tommy’s hole with it. Tommy’s entire body jolted, and Noah peered around to see his cock leaking a long, thin stream.

“Ask me for it again,” he murmured.

Tommy’s body was trembling so hard he wasn’t sure the man would be able to speak. “More,” he finally managed. “More.”

“Not very polite, are you?” Noah asked, and then hit him again and again. He wrenched Tommy’s hands away and let his ass cheeks close around him, then gave a thrust. He swore quietly in Swedish as he wrapped one hand around the other man’s neck, and the other around his cock.

He gave both equal, gentle pressure—just enough to make Tommy go limp and still.

“Please,” Tommy breathed out.

“That’s a little better.” Noah half wanted to torture him more, but he was already so close, and they’d barely done anything at all. He gave another thrust, too dry and yet so fucking good. And then he picked up speed. The sound of his skin slapping against Tommy’s was almost too much for him, and his balls began to tighten. He increased his pace on Tommy’s dick and squeezed his throat just a little more, and then he felt it.

Tommy’s body convulsed, and he let out a low, chest-deep moan as he came all over the table. That was it for Noah—it was exactly enough. His cock pulsed, then spilled along the top of Tommy’s ass, the white seed dripping down his crack.

He wanted to push his fingers through it, to open Tommy up with it and just force the man to rest on Noah’s hand until he was hard again and begging for more. He wanted to tease him all night. He wanted…

“Vicki.”

His name was breathed out soft and vulnerable, and something inside him cracked…then shattered. He pulled away, turning his back to Tommy as he eased his jeans up, and he pretended like he wasn’t listening to Tommy do the same thing.

His chest ached, and he wanted to swallow, but he felt like if he did, he was going to choke on his own tongue.

The moment stretched out between them. This was something he couldn’t come back from. There was no escape.

“Vicki,” Tommy said again, this time stronger.

He turned his head and offered Tommy something like a smile, though it probably didn’t look like one. “You’re not going to ask me to stay, are you?”

He pretended like he didn’t see the hurt in Tommy’s eyes or feel it like a blow to his own chest. He pretended to buy the other man’s arrogant scoff and believe the arms crossed over Tommy’s chest weren’t in an attempt to protect himself. He pretended he didn’t actually want Tommy to ask him not to go.

Or that if he did, Noah would be able to give any other answer than yes.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Tommy finally said.

God, Noah was such a bastard. He offered no more than a nod, then he patted his pockets to make sure he still had his keys and let himself out. He didn’t really remember the walk to his car, but he froze when he saw a little yellow ticket sitting under his wiper, then ripped it out.

A parking ticket.

He glanced up at the sign he’d ignored when he’d pulled up, then back down at the paper in his hand.

It was the absolute and very least he deserved.