Pucking Ever After: Volume 1 (Jacksonville Rays)

“Daddy!” Jamie squirms in my arms, trying to get closer to the glass as Jake flashes by in a blur of teal.

“Yeah, bubs. That’s daddy,” I say pointing him out.

As we watch, Jake slams a Capitals forward into the corner, fighting to clear the puck out of the Rays defense zone.

“Daddy bang!” Jamie squeals, drawing laughter from the fans around us.

The crowd goes wild as the Rays defend their zone. Meanwhile, Jamie is losing interest fast. After two periods of good behavior, he’s a wiggly eel in my arms, desperate to get down and run. But I can’t chase him right now. I can’t think about anything except what’s happening out on that ice. If we can hold on for eight more minutes, we’re going to win this game and clinch a playoffs position. The Rays could win their first Stanley Cup.

“Down,” Jamie whines. “Dada—want down.”

“No, bubs. No down,” I say distractedly, holding him closer as he squirms.

Next to me, Mars has it easy. Tuo is like a baby koala. So long as he’s being held, he’s happy. He’s tucked inside his baby backpack, sporting a Rays beanie and noise cancelling headphones, his pacifier bobbing as he just looks around, happy to be included.

I groan as Jamie kicks.

“Down, Dada—”

“Get it out!”

“Fight!”

“Come on, Rays!”

All around us, the crowd is howling as Jake gets into another corner battle. Our newly traded goalie is on high alert, crouched low, watching the action. Jake wins control, slapping the puck out across the ice. Langley turns with it on a dime, blasting down the rink. Jake recovers, skating up to his spot on the red line, guarding the zone with Novy.

“He’s playing well,” Ilmari says at my side.

I follow his gaze and smirk. Of course he’s watching the new guy, not our guy. No. 1, Hunter DeGraw. This is only his third game starting with the Rays. He’s young, only twenty-three, snatched from an LA Kings farm team on a clever trade by our GM. He’s just as tall as Mars, broad-shouldered, and possibly even faster (though I’d never say that out loud). The problem is he drifts left. He’s let in two goals tonight, both on the right side.

Thank god our forwards are on fire and made three of their own goals to make up the difference. Jake even had an assist on the last one. Karlsson put it right between the goalie’s legs. DeGraw’s been playing better this period, overcorrecting to show the Capitals he can guard his right side too.

“We’ll win,” says Mars with total confidence.

“Don’t jinx us,” I mutter, my gaze locked on the far end of the rink where our forwards are fighting to get the puck in the net.

“We’ll win,” Mars says again.

“Isä win?” Jamie says, tugging on my Rays hat and flipping it off my head.

Mars catches it with his quick reflexes, handing it back to me.

“Isä, want down,” Jamie whines, reaching for Mars. “Tuo, down too.” He leans over, trying to reach his little brother. “Tuo, down?”

Tuomas drops his pacifier and babbles at his brother in baby talk, reaching out a chubby hand. Ilmari leans in, saying something in quick Finnish, kissing Jamie’s cheek and tapping a finger to the tip of his nose.

Jamie whines again, slinging himself around in my arms like a thrashing shark. For only being three years old, he’s so damn strong. I blame Jake and his Minnesota mountain man genes. “Ouch, fuck—” I grunt as Jamie’s swinging foot collides with my dick.

“Fuck! Daddy fuck, fuck,” Jamie parrots.

I groan as Ilmari gives me fierce side eye. He doesn’t need to say anything. I know I’m adding a dollar to the swear jar. At this point, they should just rename the damn thing the ‘Caleb Jar.’ It’s not fair though because Mars swears in Finnish all the time and we just don’t know so it doesn’t count. Stupid double standards.

“Unintentional,” I mutter, shifting Jamie over to my other hip, taking careful hold of his swinging foot.

“Down!” he squawks louder. His little cheeks grow redder as he gets frustrated at being denied.

“Bubs, there’s only five more minutes,” I plead, trying to keep my focus on both the game and my squirrelly kid.

“Here,” says Mars. “Unbuckle me.” He turns to the side, showing me his back.

I reach up on reflex, eyes locked on the game, and unbuckle the strap securing the baby carrier.

Mars makes quick work of lifting Tuo out. “Switch.”

The crowd around us cheers while we trade kids. Mars tucks a squirming, angry Jamie into the front of the carrier, leaving me to hold a happy Tuo. Baby bubs gazes up at me, his little hands holding to my chin as I watch DeGraw make an awesome stick save.

“Yes!” Ilmari shouts, holding down Jamie’s slappy hands. “Glove! Glove!”

DeGraw scrambles after the rebound, flopping on his stomach on the ice and diving for the puck, closing his glove down around it to stop play.

“Yes!” we both shout.

My gaze shoots across the ice to the Rays bench. Rachel is working tonight. She’s standing sentry in the corner, arms crossed, watching the action. Jerry stands at her side, leaning over to say something that has her laughing.

Fuck, why did I switch shifts with him tonight? I could be right in the action too. I could be there to congratulate Jake when he steps off that ice, knowing he’s leading the Rays into their first playoffs. That’s the last time I do Jerry a favor to cover his damn dentist appointment.

Jake takes up his position at the face-off circle, waiting for the puck to drop. The large captain’s “C” is stitched proudly on his chest. My best friend, my husband, starting defenseman and captain of an NHL team. It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. My wife works the bench while my husband skates…oh, and my other husband stands at my side soothing one of my babies.

How did I get so fucking lucky? I’m the most undeserving of assholes, blessed to have things I didn’t even know I wanted.

I glance down at Tuo’s face, soaking in those pink cheeks and dark blue eyes. Under the hat, he’s got a head of almond brown curls, the perfect mix of Rachel and Mars. My sweet boy. Feeling overwhelmed, I lean down and kiss his brow. He sucks that pacifier, fisting my Rays t-shirt with both hands.

Ilmari’s bouncing and swaying has soothed Jamie. Poor little guy is just as tired as he is excited. His bedtime was an hour ago. I watch his head sink down onto Ilmari’s chest as his eyes begin to droop. Being strapped in the carrier is calming him down. I envy my boys their ability to sleep anywhere, even front row at an NHL hockey game.

The minutes are ticking down in this final period. Only four left. DeGraw slaps the puck hard with his paddle, sending it flying up the ice. Langley all but stumbles to chase after it. The Capitals defense send it back over our line, aiming for a forward, but it lands right on the end of Jake’s stick instead. He fakes left, then he’s blasting forward, taking the puck over the line towards the Capitals goal.

“Go! Go!”

“Priiiiice!”

Everyone around us is yelling.

“Pass it,” I shout. “Karlsson’s open!”

“No, he’s not,” Mars calls at my side. And he’s right. The Capitals forward has caught up to Karlsson, cutting him off. Karlsson gets checked back.

“Keep it!”

“Shoot it!”

“Fake him out!”

All my air is trapped in my throat as everyone around me suddenly becomes an expert in stick and puck handling. But nothing we say matters. Only what Jake sees, what he feels. If it’s right, he’ll take the shot. If not, he’ll fall back and regroup.

Mars steps in close, his arm wrapping around my waist as he we both hold our breath. “Take the shot,” he murmurs only loud enough for me to hear.

It’s just Jake and the goalie now. Every other Capitals player is getting effectively boxed out by a Ray.

Now or never.

“Come on, take the shot,” I whisper, willing Jake to hear me.

My voice is lost to the roar of the crowd as Jake slashes left, luring the goalie with him, only to do another fancy flick with his stick, sinking the puck into the back corner of the net. The lights go off, the bullhorn blasts, and Bruno Mars fills the Rays stadium as Jake gets hammered on all sides by celebrating Rays.

The Rays are now winning 4-2. The fans around us scream. Those closest know who we are, so we get our shoulders squeezed and patted. A bearded man with Bud Light breath puffs in my face, “Your guy is fuckin’ awesome!”

“Best defense is a good offense,” his equally drunk friend shouts.

I smile but put a protective hand around Tuo, inching closer to Mars. We do our best to thank everyone and the cheering intensifies as Jake comes skating down the ice. He knows where we are. He made faces at the boys through the glass during warmups.

Rays fans slam the glass as Jake skates up, trailed by Novy. He’s smiling wide, his bright blue mouthguard hanging out the side of his mouth, clenched in his teeth. I glance over and see Jamie is zonked out against Ilmari’s chest, his breathing deep and even.

Tuomas pops his pacifier out of his mouth. “Da—da—” he babbles, reaching out both hands towards Jake.

“Did you see that shot?” Jake teases at me. “You couldn’t have done it any prettier.”

I just smirk, leaning forward to let Tuo put his hands on the glass.

Distracted by the baby, Jake taps the glass with his gloved finger. “Did you see me, Tuo? Did you see Daddy’s goal?”

The whistle blows and Jake turns, popping his mouthguard back in. This game is over. The Rays are advancing to the playoffs. But there’s still three minutes left in this game.

“Tell DeGraw he played well,” Ilmari calls, both his large hands resting protectively over Jamie’s back.

Glancing back at us, Jake nods. He tears his gaze from the babies, focusing all his heated attention on me. A moment that lasts endless seconds stretches between us as he holds my gaze. Then he gives me a wink and skates off.

Fuck me dead.

My heart stops as my dick twitches. I watch him skate into position, ready for the puck drop. Once he’s bent over, stick in position, he glances my way again with a teasing grin, flashing me that blue mouth guard.

“Fuck,” I mutter, shifting on my feet.

“Fu, fu, fu,” Tuo echoes, tapping my stubbled chin with both his tiny hands.

“Ouch—” I wince as Ilmari elbows me. Hard.

“I’m going to raise the swear jar price to one hundred dollars per swear,” he warns.

“You have to admit, I’m getting better,” I say with a shrug, elbowing him back.

He just rolls his eyes, his attention on the puck drop.

The players all know they’re running out the clock. No way the Capitals are coming back from this in under two minutes. The forwards are still fighting, but Jake easily bats the puck loose and sends it flying down the rink.

Taking his cue from Novy, they dart for the side and hop over the boards. Morrow and J-Lo take their place on the ice. Jake is done for this game. The others on the bench are already congratulating him, including Hurricane. She leans over him, both hands on his shoulders, kissing the side of his helmet, her smile wide.

Fuck, I want him. I feel suddenly breathless as the need crashes over me, buffeting me like a wave. Watching him skate is hot enough. But watching him win? Watching him dominate? It has the demon deep inside me breathing fire, desperate to show him how well he can be dominated too.

It’s been weeks since I’ve had him all to myself. They says kids change things, and they weren’t lying. Between all the crazy schedules and the travel, I’m struggling to remember the last time I had my way with him alone. Why can’t I picture it? The shower, I think. He’d just come home from an away game.

That flirty wink replays in my mind easily enough—the curve of his smile, the sweat on his brow. He’s all confidence tonight, all power and control. I need him to cede it to me. Need him to remind us both who we are and what we crave.

And I crave that man like I crave air.

My husband. My lover. My fucking soul mate.

Well…one of them.

I groan again, watching the clock tick down.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ilmari mutters, nudging me.

I shift my hold on Tuomas. “Nothing. I’m fine.” My gaze is still locked on Jake across the ice. He’s standing now, gloves and helmet off, clapping and cheering for the team, his smile making my chest feet tight.

Next to me, Ilmari snorts and shakes his head. “Seriously?”

I glare at him. “What?”

He holds my gaze. “You think I don’t know you? You think I don’t know that look?” he adds, pointing at my face with a smirk.

“Shut up,” I mutter.

He huffs a soft laugh. After a minute, he reaches out. “Give him to me.”

I pull back. “What? No, I—”

“Just give him to me,” he says again, lifting Tuomas away and holding both boys at once.

“Mars—”

“If you get caught, I had nothing to do with it,” he mutters.

“You’re a terrible influence, you know,” I tease. “And this is way worse than a little swearing. You’re about to be complicit in a crime.”

He raises a brow at me. “Are you planning to rob a concession stand?”

“More like defile one,” I reply.

He just laughs. “Go, before I change my mind. And before the crowds swarm,” he adds, gesturing up at the ticking game clock.

Shit, I have less than two minutes. People are already starting to flood out while most of the stadium celebrates.

“You got the babies?” I say, letting myself feel a slight twinge of guilt before Ilmari is elbowing me.

“Go.”

I take off up the stairs, keeping my head down in case any fans try to snag my attention. I know this stadium like the back of my hand, and I’ve got my security pass in my pocket. Mars had to turn his in when he retired, so he technically can’t get down to the locker room without an escort. But the guards all know him and they all love Rachel. When they see him sporting double babies, they’ll let him right through.

The final game buzzer sounds and the crowd roars as I duck down a stairwell, flashing my pass to get into the tunnels. Once there, I’m able to avoid the crowds, weaving my way around the rink and over towards the locker room.

“Hey, Mr. Price! Great game,” calls a friendly security guard.

I jog past him with a wave, ignoring the twinge in my knee. Between Hurricane’s strength and conditioning regiment and Jake’s massages, I’ve seen drastic improvement in my range of motion, even if the pain still flares, especially after a long day like today. Right now, I hardly notice it. I’m a man on a mission.

I know I’ve got some time yet. The press will hold Jake back for an on-ice interview. As captain, they’ll want to hear from him his thoughts on the game and our playoff prospects. The man is a PR dream—handsome, well spoken, charming as sin. He could sell a bag of dildos to a nun.

Fuck, that smirk he gave me out on the ice. He lobbed it like a grenade, right over the plexiglass. Boom. If he thinks he can play with my fire, I’m gonna remind him what it feels like to get burned. Goddamn, I need him bad. I take a breath, trying to cool the heat in my blood. I can’t wander around the tunnels sporting a tent in my pants. This is my place of business, after all.

Get it together, asshole.

There’s a hitch in my step as I smirk. Seeing as I’m literally on a mission to track down my husband and pound him senseless, I’m not the poster child for ethical workplace professionalism right now.

I laugh, shaking my head. Yeah, I don’t give a fuck. Daddy Cay is done wrangling pacifiers and holding babies tonight. My big time NHL superstar is gonna drop to his knees and make me feel like a whole other kind of daddy.

I round the corner at the long end of the main tunnel, my mind spinning out the possibilities of where. The caveman in me wants to put him on his knees in the middle of the damn locker room. But voyeurism isn’t his kink unless Rachel and Mars are the ones watching.

He does have a serious kink for almost getting caught, which could be fun. Private sex in public. Yeah, my good boy goes weak for a handy on the plane. And he’s all for indulging mine and Rachel’s love of gritty bar bathrooms. We almost got kicked out of a karaoke bar down at Jax Beach when we fucked so hard we broke the sink. Water sprayed everywhere. We came out soaking wet wearing shit-eating grins.

But I don’t want to exchange handys up against the stall of a bathroom, hands over our mouths to stifle our groans. I want to throw him around a little. I want to hear him moan, watch him beg.

There’s only one place in mind. Our place. At this point we should just go all in and get a plaque for the door. The Price Family Storage Closet. It’s far enough from the locker room that we don’t have to be too quiet. And there’s room for all four of us inside. Fuck, we’ve had some fun in that damn closet.

“Hey Sanny!” Morrow calls with a wave. “What a fuckin’ game, eh?”

I smile at him. “Well played.”

“Did you see your boy out there? Cap was on fire tonight,” says Fields from behind him. They’re still in their gear, handing their gloves and sticks off to the waiting EMs.

“You’re off the clock tonight, eh boss?” calls Cody, one of the new hires. He catches a pair of gloves as Karlsson tosses them to him, and pops them on the rack.

“Yep,” I say. “Scuse me, gentlemen.”

I slip right past them, moving towards the locker room. I go to turn the corner just as Rachel comes hopping out.

“Oh—hey, babe.” She pops up on her toes to give me a quick kiss. She looks tired but wired, her bun a little frizzy and her eye makeup smudged. But she’s in her element. “Playoffs here we come,” she adds. “Have you seen Jake yet?”

“No—”

“God, he’s gonna be insufferable for a week,” she says with a laugh. “He’s already threatening me that I have to call him ‘King of the Ice.’” She grabs my arm as I try to slip past her. “Hey—you okay, baby?”

I suck in a breath, giving her my full attention. “Yeah.”

Her gorgeous dark eyes dart left then right, her expression concerned as she reads me like no one else has ever been able to do. Mars comes close. Then she’s smiling through pursed lips, shaking her head. “Ohh…yeah you’re just fine, aren’t you,” she teases. “I’d join you, but I’ve got my hands full here for another hour,” she adds, gesturing to the plastic box slung under one arm stocked with ice bags and wraps.

“He in there?” I say, gesturing with a nod to the locker room.

“Yeah. Just finished press. Hey—go gentle with him,” she adds. “Pepper in a little praise. He needs it.”

With that, my wife kisses my cheek and saunters off, perfectly comfortable in the knowledge that I’m planning to go corner and fuck our husband. Yeah, that woman was made for me. I’ll remind her why tonight.

But right now is all about Jake. Mr. King of the Ice.

I slip into the locker room to find the guys in various states of undress. The funk in this room post game is something not for the faint of heart as all the layers of sweaty gear get stripped off and tossed in the big laundry bin. After twenty years in the life, I’m used to it.

“Sanny!”

“Sanford!”

“It’s Price now, dickhead,” Novy growls, shoving Walsh.

“Ouch—shit—Why is Sanny okay, but not Sanford?”

“Because it is,” Novy snaps.

I just shake my head. I’ll leave it to Novy to put the third string guy in his place. When we all changed our names, the guys faced a brief conundrum of what to do having four Prices on the team. Rachel became ‘Doc’ and for the short time Mars was still playing, he was just Mars. The guys all just stuck with ‘Sanny’ for me. Only Jake’s name really changed. No one calls him ‘Compton’ anymore. It’s only ever—

“Price!” Coach Johnson shouts from the other doorway. “He in here?”

“Showers, sir,” DeGraw calls back. He has Ilmari’s stall now, which means he gears up next to Jake for every game.

Coach looks around for one of the assistant captains. “J-Lo, with me,” he calls, turning and ducking back out.

J-Lo shuffles off, still in his skates.

I step fully into the locker room, moving over towards DeGraw. He’s a handsome guy. Young and fit. Unattached. The Jacksonville bunny network went crazy with his trade. But he doesn’t seem into that life. He’s a bit of a closed book all the way around, really.

“Hey,” I say at him. “Ilmari watched your game.”

He perks up immediately. Ilmari Price is akin to a living god in the hockey goalie world. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You played good. You’re watching your right side better. He noticed.”

He flashes me a smile, giving a relieved nod. “Hey, thanks, bud.”

I nod and slip past him, ducking into the showers. It takes me no time to see Jake isn’t there, so I slip into the connecting changing room where the guys keep their warmup gear and street clothes.

I hear him before I see him. It’s his magnetic laugh. It hooks me deep in my chest and reels me in. I can’t not follow that laugh. I need to see him. Need to feel him. I won’t be able to breathe until he’s in my arms.

I step in the doorway to see Jake standing in the corner, his dark hair sticking up all over like he just roughed it with a towel. His toned ass flexes as he tugs a pair of grey boxer briefs up his wet legs.

“Hey, Sanny,” Langley calls, pulling on his shirt. “Did you see our captain out there tonight?”

“Playoffs, baby!

“Stanley, here we come!”

The other guys hoot and shove each other, still celebrating their win. But I only care about one guy. My guy. Jake turns, glancing over his shoulder at me, smile still on his face. I cross my arms, leaning against the doorjamb and level my gaze at him, heart pounding. Fuck, he’s so goddamn beautiful. How did I go nearly ten years surviving on our “just friends” bullshit?

“Where are the babies?” he calls over at me. He peers down, as if he expects to see Jamie dart around the open door. Our kids are a feature of the home games. This arena and the practice facility are practically their second homes.

“With Mars,” I say.

“How bout that last goal, eh?” says Perry. “I think Cap is gunning for a forward position.”

“Yeah, and you’ll be the first one benched,” Langley teases, throwing his wet towel at him.

Perry catches it, dropping it to the floor.

I haven’t taken my eyes off Jake. I tell him everything I’m feeling. Everything I need. Let’s see how well he’s listening. Because if he doesn’t take the hint and come to me in the next sixty seconds, I’ll be making this private moment real fucking public. I’m about to scar his teammates for life.

Come on, angel.

Jake smirks, giving me a little half shoulder shrug as if to say, “What’s your problem?”

I wait.

We hold eye contact a second longer and I give him everything, letting this burning feeling coiling in my chest burst outward.

Fucking come here to me. Crawl. Beg. Now.

His cheeks bloom pink as he looks quickly away and I smile.

Got him.

Snatching for his shorts and shirt, he tugs them on. I don’t wait. Spinning on my heel, I duck out of the changing room, using the door that leads out into the hallway. I turn sharply left and start walking down the hall towards the storage room.

“Hey,” Jake calls, ducking out of the changing room. “You okay? Babe, where you goin’? How ‘bout that goal, huh?” His Nike slides slap on the concrete as he jogs to catch up. “I think I make a pretty good forward. Cay—hey—”

I let him keep talking as I take a sharp left, turning down the narrow hall that leads to the Price Family Storage Closet.

“Cay—”

As soon as he clears the corner, I turn, grabbing him by the shirt and shoving him up against the wall. He grunts as I pin him in place with my hips. Then I cup his stubbled cheeks with both hands and take what I need, kissing him senseless.

“Fuck—” He pants against my mouth, his confusion spiraling quickly into arousal as our cocks harden, locked together by the press of my hips.

We’re both wearing nothing but athletic gear so there’s no hiding the way we make the other feel. His hands quickly come up to grip my elbows, then he drops them down to cup my ass, cursing against my lips as he pulls me even tighter against him. We both groan, chasing each kiss with tongues and teeth.

His kisses are playful and passionate, proof that he’s here. He’s with me. His brain is always spinning a million miles a minute, but sex is one of the only things proven to focus him to a single task. Pleasure. My Jake goes all in every time. He’s present, he’s adoring. He pays attention. I fucking love that about him.

“Cay—” He breaks our kiss, his hands sliding up to brace my hips. His pretty green eyes blink at me, dark with arousal. “What—”

“I need you,” I admit, my thumb brushing down the column of his throat, over his Adam’s apple.

“What do you need?” he murmurs, his gaze locked on me. That’s another thing I love about him. He looks at people. He sees them. He makes them feel seen. Rachel and Mars do it too. I feel inexplicably, blessedly seen by my family.

“You.”

He nods, his hands trailing up to curl around my wrists. My hands still cup his face. He leans in, brushing his lips against mine. It’s not a kiss. We’re just connecting, getting in sync. “What do you need, baby?”

I go stiff, my breath caught in my chest. Normally it doesn’t bother me when Jake and Hurricane call me ‘baby.’ It’s just a term of endearment. We all have them for each other. And the kids each have a list of them a mile long. But in this moment, with my heart beating fast, blood pumping to my dick…yeah, I’m no one’s baby right now.

His lips part on a breath as his eyes darken. “Oh.” Then he pecks my mouth once more, running his hands down my chest. “Fucking finally. It’s been ages since you’ve come out to play.” Dropping his hand down, he gives my dick a squeeze.

I groan.

“You have lube?” he says, leaning in to kiss my neck, my ear. His scent surrounds me. “I can’t say I’ve prepped for a hard pounding. But if you’re offering, I’m saying yes. Hell yes. You have lube, Cay?”

I grip the back of his neck, pulling him back to hold his gaze. “Do I look like a fucking amateur?”

His smile widens as he strokes my dick again. “Then what are you waiting for, daddy? Tear this ass apart.”

I growl, shoving him back. “Get in the fucking closet.”

His chest heaves, eyes bright with excitement as he follows my order, slipping in his sandals as he races to pull the utility closet door open. I’m right behind him, snapping it shut and turning the lock.

It’s less a closet and more of a small warehouse-style room. With tall ceilings and shelves along two walls, it’s cluttered with everything from cleaning supplies to overflow gear piles. Our favorite feature is the old collection of goalie nets stacked in the corner.

Yeah, Mars has a major net kink, which might be a kink specific to hockey goalies. He loves fucking our girl against them. He’s usually the last to agree to public sex, which is why this closet is so much fun for all of us. If he even thinks we’ll have fun with her against a net without him, he’s the first to whip out his dick.

Jake spins around, standing in the middle of the space in his Rays t-shirt, navy blue shorts, and athletic socks. He’s my bi hockey sex dream. Fuck, I love him so goddamn much. Crossing the space between us, I grab him and shove him towards the nearest supply shelf.

“Shit,” he pants, his back rattling against the shelf. The whole unit squeaks as, behind his head, the rows of purple Shine Wow surface cleaner jiggle. He grins, hands going to my hips. “Damn, baby. You need it that rough?”

“I’m not your goddamn baby,” I say, my hand going to his throat.

He whimpers at the contact, arching his neck. He’s as bad as Rachel. They both love a good choking. “Tell me what to do,” he says, his tone breathless. “Tell me what you need.”

I sink into dom space, taking deep breaths as I let my hand constrict around his throat. I can’t offer him the praise I know he craves until I’m allowed a little degradation first. “So you were the big man tonight, huh?” I tease. “You’re out there making plays? King of the fucking ice, right? A goal and an assist. You must feel like a god right now.”

He smirks. He can’t help but brat, even if we both know he’ll fold like a house of cards in sixty seconds. Rachel is the true switch of the family. No one can dom from her knees like our queen.

“You saw me out there,” he replies, his voice hoarse from my fist squeezing him tight. “Did I look like a king to you? That’s my fucking ice.”

I lean in, my hand tightening at his throat as I use the other to jerk his shorts down around his ankles. “You can be a king out on the ice. But who are you in here?” I growl, fisting his dick.

He groans, eyes fluttering shut. “Yours.”

“Try again,” I say, jerking him dry. The friction has us both panting. “Are you a king in here, angel?”

He shakes his head, his hands gripping the shelf as he tries to sink into the sensation of me stroking him.

“Speak,” I snap.

“Ahh—no,” he pants. “You’re the king. You’re the god. You’re the emperor of the fucking universe, just don’t fucking stop.”

“And who are you?” I say, nipping his jaw before I’m sucking his throat. I swipe my thumb over his tip, taking that precum and getting him slick.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, his hands leaving the shelves to grip my hips.

“Did I say you could touch me?” I snap, my hand stilling on his dick.

With a groan, he raises both hands, holding the shelf that rests behind his head. “Take me,” he pleads. “Use me. I’m your dirty fucking whore. Please, Cay—”

I silence him with a kiss, dropping my hand from his throat to free myself from my athletic pants. But not before I tug loose my wallet, keys, and phone from my pocket, rattling them down on the shelf behind him. “Take off your shirt.”

Jake rushes to comply, stripping himself naked for me. He drops the Rays t-shirt to our feet, his cut muscles looking so defined after a night of athleticism out on that ice.

Ducking down, I kiss his chest, teasing his nipple between my teeth.

“Oh god,” he groans, knocking my hat off so he can fist my hair.

“Get the lube,” I say. “Wallet.”

He groans, fumbling as I trail my tongue across his chest, teasing his other nipple into a dark brown peak. Between us, his cock bobs, desperate for some attention.

“There’s two,” he pants, finding the individual packets of lube tucked into my wallet. Did I plan to fuck my husband in a closet tonight? You can’t always plan for these things. Best to be prepared.

“One now,” I reply. “You’re gonna fist our cocks. Get me ready to take that ass.”

He sighs with relief as he tears open the first lube packet. Squeezing it into his hand, he’s careful as he drops it down, wrapping our dicks together in his fist. “Of—fuck me—fuck—”

We both look down, foreheads pressed together as we watch him coat our dicks with lube. It feels fucking amazing. His dick against mine, the warmth and strength of his hand, the cool glide of the lube. My piercings create the perfect ribbed friction I know he craves. His eyes roll back before he shuts them tight, biting his bottom lip.

As I watch, I see his hand twist over our tips. My gaze catches on the thin line of black ink banding around his left ring finger. It’s the only tattoo on his body. His permanent wedding ring. A sign of the vows he’ll never break. To me. To Hurricane. To Mars and our boys.

He’s mine. He’s ours.

I grab him by the shoulders, pressing my lips to his. We kiss feverishly, our bodies trembling as he keeps working his fist over our cocks. I bury my tongue in his mouth, opening him deep, sucking on his lip. His skin is so warm against mine, his hair still damp.

“Fuck—daddy, please,” he groans, his hand slowing on our dicks.

I smile against his lips. “Do you need to come, angel? Are you aching with it?”

“Yes.”

I drop my hand down, slapping his wrist to make him let go of our dicks. “Not yet. You’re gonna take that pounding first. I’m gonna fill this ass. Gonna make you bend over and spread wide as I bury my cock so deep you see stars.”

“Yes,” he says again. “Fucking do it. Cay, I need it—”

“You don’t come until I say,” I command. “I’m gonna fill this ass as you fill my hand. You’ll walk out of here King of the Ice with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

He’s already turning, eager for more. He hands me the lube packet over his shoulder, his hands gripping to the shelves.

I make quick work of tearing it open and squeezing a little onto my fingers. “Bend over,” I growl. “Show me what’s mine.”

He widens his stance, bending at the waist. God, he has a great ass. I smooth my left hand over the thick curve of it. And because I can’t fucking help myself, I drop to one knee behind him, burying my face in his heat.

“Oh—fuck—Cay—” He’s not big into eating ass, but if I’m the one offering, he can’t bend over fast enough.

I make a mess of him, swiping with my tongue, getting his hole wet with my spit. He pants, pressing back against my pressure, moaning into the curve of his arm as I suck and tease, rimming his tight hole with my tongue.

“You want this cock, you better relax,” I order, nipping the cheek of his ass with my teeth.

He groans again, letting out a shaky breath. “Feels so fucking good.”

From my knees, I have the perfect view as I sink one finger into his tight hole.

“God—”

“Breathe,” I murmur. “That’s it.” I work that finger in and out, applying the lube all the way around. His wet heat swallows me and I bite my lip, fighting my own groan. Fuck, I love anal. Very important when you live as part of a bi four-way. I press another finger in, letting them both curl forward and down as I go reaching for his prostate—

“Oh—fuuuuuck,” he garbles, breathless and needy.

“Right there?” I tease, working the spot again.

He slams a hand against the shelf, making it all rattle. “Ungh—mygod—right fucking there—” His voice is a deep, masculine growl.

I smile, kissing his ass cheek as I press in and down with two fingers, dragging along his prostate until he squirms.

“Baby—fuck—daddy, please,” he begs. Yeah, his house of cards is crumbling. Play doesn’t last long with him before he drops the act and just becomes a feelings machine.

I stand, squeezing the rest of the lube from the packet onto the fingers I still have buried in his ass. Careful not to waste it, I work the lube in. “You ready to take my dick? You gonna be my perfect good fucking boy?”

“Yes,” he groans. “God, I love you so fucking much, Cay. Do it.”

I pull my fingers free and grip my cock at the base, pressing in close. This first feeling of connection is what I always crave. Whether with Rachel or Jake, it’s the first glide home that always takes my breath away.

I press my tip in, letting out a slow exhale. Hearing me, Jake mirrors it and I see his hip muscles relax. I press in deeper, holding my shaft tight as I work in. “God, you’re so fucking tight, baby.”

He pants a laugh, glancing over his shoulder. “Who’s fault is that? How long’s it been, Cay?”

“Too fucking long,” I reply, sinking in another inch, working in and out all the way to the tip to make sure he’s good and stretched. My every instinct is begging me to pound him senseless, but I can’t hurt him. I’ll die first.

I feel the moment he gives in. His body goes slack and it’s suddenly like he’s pulling me in as much as I push. “Fu-fu-fuuuuck,” he pants, breathless as I sink all the way in.

My hips settle against the curve of his ass and we just pause and breathe, sharing this perfect moment of connection. My hands smooth from his hips, up his sides, over his shoulders. His body is a work of art, honed to perfection.

“You’re perfect,” I murmur, leaning forward to kiss his warm shoulder. “Perfect.”

“I’m perfect now?” he teases, glancing back at me. “You gonna call me King of the—ahh—”

I thrust in hard, silencing him with a groan. “Don’t fucking push it.”

“No, push me,” he begs. “Fuck me like you’re the only one who owns this ass.”

“Oh, you want me to pound this ass?” I tease, moving my hips harder against him. “Make you beg. Make you moan—”

“Fuck me, daddy. Please god,” he murmurs under his breath. He gives as well as he takes, holding his hips firm as he breathes it out, stifling a groan into the crook of his arm. “Yeah, there—right there—”

I keep one hand on his shoulder, and one on his hip as I go to town, pounding his tight hole. The sound of our skin slapping fills the room as we groan together, taking our pleasure. “Fuck, you feel so good,” I say, ready to give him the praise that will make us both come undone. “You’re so beautiful. So strong.”

He moans, dropping a hand down to work his cock. “I’ve missed you,” he groans. “Need you. Cay, baby, please—”

His begging has me wrapping myself around him, one hand bracing against his chest as I take over working his cock. “Kiss me,” I say. “Jake, kiss me.”

He twists himself into a pretzel, keeping his hips locked tight against mine, bending enough to reach my lips as we kiss, our hot breath fanning over each other’s lips as we ride out the cresting high of our releases.

“Come with me,” I say, my hand working him from tip to base as I rock into his ass with my hips. “Need to feel you come. Squeeze me tight. Take this cock. All of it.”

“Fill me, Cay. Make me yours. God—I’m fucking yours,” he pants, his ass squeezing me like a vice until I choke back a scream. “Say you love me. Say you need me like I need you. I need you like fucking air, Cay.”

I drop my forehead to his back, my thrusting going still as I give him what he needs. “I love you, Jake. You’re mine. All fucking mine. My rock and my love, the beating heart of this family. You’re the axis that makes our world spin. Be with me forever. Be mine. Jake, please—”

His left hand grabs at mine, weaving our fingers together as he places his on the shelf. His right drops down to wrap around mine on his dick. We work him together as I move my hips once, twice, three more times.

My release barrels through me and I cry out, burying the sound at his back. I come inside him so hard it makes my knees shake. At the same time, he groans beneath me, his hot cum releasing all over our joined hands, dripping in between our knuckles.

“Oh god,” he groans.

We hold there, doing nothing but breathe together. This is what he needs. I need the moment when we join. He needs the moment we release. That’s when he feels us most in sync. So I wait. I breathe with him. I be.

“I love you,” I murmur, feeling him relax completely into my hold. “I love you, Jake.”

He nods, still too lost in the cloud of his orgasm to reply.

After a moment he lets out a deep breathe. His muscles tighten and I know he’s back in his own head. “Fuuuuuck, I needed that,” he says on a contented sigh. He shifts beneath me and I lift my sticky hand away from his softening dick.

“It was a good shot,” I admit at last. “Methodical and clean. You earned it.”

He huffs a laugh, glancing over his shoulder. “Come on, it was pretty as a picture and you know it. Fucking textbook.”

“It was good,” I repeat.

I slip out of him with a grunt, dropping down to pull up my pants. He may have to wear me out of here, but I have to wear him too. Inevitably we’ll shower when we get home, which will hopefully morph into round two, preferably with someone with softer curves wedged between us.

Jake pulls up his shorts, one handed, reaching for a roll of paper towel with the other. It’s the shit kind they put in the bathrooms, but it’s better than nothing. We do the minimum to clean the jizz and lube off our hands.

“You gonna say it now?” he says with a big grin.

“Say what?”

“That I’m a better forward than you.”

I glare at him. “You got lucky.”

“Nu-uh. No way.” He shakes his head, tossing his shirt over his shoulder as he crosses his arms. “You just said it was methodical. You said I earned it.”

“I was lying to make you feel better.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” he huffs. “Can’t you just give me this? One time. One tiny little time, I wanna hear you call me King of the Ice and mean it.”

“You’re King of the Ice Cream,” I reply with a smirk.

“Yes—wait—seriously? Ice cream?” His smile turns into a frown.

“What? I thought that was your thing too. Your whole bullshit super power. Remember?”

“It’s not bullshit and of course I remember,” he replies. “I can be King of two things. Come on, just say it. Say I’m better than you.”

Before I can reply, there’s a sharp rapping at the door.

Shit…who would knock?

Jake and I exchange a confused look before Ilmari’s deep voice calls through the door. “Guys, open the door.”

I’m already on the move when I hear Rachel’s higher voice, a note of panic in her tone. “Right fucking now!”

I fling my hand out to turn the lock and Rachel pushes the door open. Mars steps in behind her, both babies still zonked out on his chest. Jamie is in the carrier, his legs dangling like limp noodles, while Tuo is balanced in the curl of Ilmari’s arm.

“What’s wrong?” says Jake, tugging his shirt on. He hands me my hat and I slip it back on.

“I don’t know,” says Mars, glancing at Rachel. He looks pissed. “She won’t tell me. I found her in her office crying. Said we had to come find you.”

“I’m not doing this three times,” she huffs, glancing around at the three of us. She looks spun up, my Hurricane incarnate.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Jake says again.

Tears well in her eyes as her bottom lip starts to quiver. “At least one of you guys is in really big freaking trouble,” she says.

We all share a confused look, and I know their brains are running through the same quick calculus I am. Oh shit, what did we do now?

“Tell us,” Ilmari orders.

She lets out a shaky breath through parted lips. “Okay…just know that there’s nothing that can be done about it now. I need you all to help me get excited about this, because I’m kind of freaking the fuck out.”

“Seattle, please,” Jake begs. “Just tell us.”

But Hurricane doesn’t need to say a word. I already know. All the signs have been there, we’ve just been too busy to see them. I glance to Ilmari and I know he knows too. His eyes are wide as he glances down at the two babies asleep in his arms.

“Oh, holy shit,” Jake gasps, and I know he’s finally there too. “Baby, are you—”

“Pregnant,” she finishes with him, that bottom lip still quivering. “Yes. Again. I’ve been feeling so tired and weird and—I was wrapping an ice pack around Perry’s knee and it just hit me and I knew,” she says on one long exhale, dark eyes wide. “But I needed to know, you know? I couldn’t wait until I got home. So I was in the bathroom freaking out, and Poppy came in, and she had a test in her purse because she thinks she’s pregnant too, so she gave it to me and I took it and…”

As if we needed the confirmation, she slips her hand in the front pocket of her Rays fleece and pulls out a little blue-capped pregnancy test. She hands it to me. I glance down, noting the bold blue plus sign looking up at me. I look to Ilmari, holding it up for him to see.

“But…I don’t get it,” says Jake, glancing from the test back to Rachel. He steps forward, placing his hands on her shoulders, as he searches her face. “Babe…are you…are we not happy about this?”

And that’s when she breaks, the tears falling fast and hard. “I didn’t want you to be unhappy,” she cries.

Jake looks like he’s just been told they’ve cancelled ice cream forever. “Rach, what—”

“We’ve only just gotten used to two. And now I’m knocked up again, and I was so afraid you’d all be mad or sad or-or disappointed. God, I’m a hormonal fucking mess!” She buries her face in her hands and Jake wraps her in his arms.

“Baby, no,” he soothes, kissing her brow, her temple, her cheek. “Look at me, Seattle. Look at us,” he corrects, tipping her chin up.

She sniffles, lifting her gaze to meet ours.

“You’re our wife, Rachel,” Jake says. “Till death and beyond, baby. You’re our whole fucking world. You’re really gonna stand here and tell us you’re gifting us with another beautiful baby and be worried that we’re not gonna appreciate it?”

She sniffs again. “It’s stupid. I’m a mess.”

“You’re pregnant,” he teases. “We’re used to messy, pregnant Rachel by now.”

She graces him with a weak, hiccupy laugh, shaking her head as she wipes beneath her eyes, smudging her makeup.

Jake turns to look at us. “Guys, Rach is pregnant again. Does that change anything for either of you? Either of you looking for an exit?”

“No,” I say, as Ilmari vehemently says, “Never.”

Rachel nods, eyes still teary as she steps over to Ilmari, taking Tuo from his arms. She tucks him in against her chest, kissing the top of his Rays pom-pom hat. He wiggles, but doesn’t wake. She rocks him slowly side to side, her eyes fluttering closed.

I take her in. Her dark hair is piled high in a knot, messy wisps framing her face. The smudge of her eyeliner, the faint circles under her eyes. She works so damn hard. I smile as my gaze settles on her little gold septum ring. When we first met, she kept it out all the time, trying to pretend she was someone she’s not. Now she’s boldly, unapologetically Rachel Price.

The mother of my children. The woman of my dreams. And she’s given me a life so far beyond any of my wildest imaginings.

I step forward, wrapping my arms around her. She breaks at my contact, fresh tears falling. I bend down, kissing first her, then Tuo. “I love you, Hurricane. I love our boys. I love Jake and Mars. And now I love No Name,” I add, using the nickname we always give to each new baby.

She makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry, nodding her head.

Jake step in, wrapping his arms around both of us. “And you know I’m in. I love kids. I say we don’t stop until we get a full hockey team—”

“No,” Rachel and I say together.

Mars steps in on our other side, his large hands braced over Jamie’s sleeping back.

“Mars, you in?” Jake says with a raised brow. “Baby number three?”

He nods. “I think I’d like a girl this time…though another boy would also be fine.”

“Oh god,” Jake says with a snort. “Can you imagine Cay with a girl?” He grins at me. “Shit, I bet you any money it’s yours. It’s gotta be. Three for three. We each get a baby, and yours will be a moody, gorgeous, potty-mouthed girl.”

Rachel smiles up at me, her eyes still watery. “Well, if she’s potty-mouthed, at least she’ll come by it naturally,” she adds, flashing me a knowing look.

Fuck, did Mars rat me out?

“Yeah,” I reply, giving her my best asshole smirk. “She gets it from her mom.”