Take a Shot

by Samantha Wayland

Tim pumped his fist over Chris’s cock, taking up a steady stroke in counterpoint to what his fingers were doing inside Chris. A rush of heat worked through Chris from those two points of contact, loosening every muscle. Tim’s fingers were going deeper each time. Then he crooked his fingers, and pleasure burst over Chris’s entire body. He jerked like he’d been electrified.

  “Holy shit. What was that? Fuck. Fuck,” Chris babbled as Tim mastered the art of nailing that spot with every thrust.

  Tim grinned down at him and hit it again. “That’s your prostate.”

  “Fuck. Don’t stop. Please, Tim. Don’t ever stop.”

  Tim’s chuckle was warm and washed over Chris. “Okay, sweetheart. I won’t stop.”

  And he didn’t. He just kept doing it, and Chris just kept talking. It was horrible and wonderful and he never wanted it to stop, but please god, why wouldn’t he just shut up?

  He was in the midst of a veritable tirade about how magical Tim was when Tim tucked a third finger in and pressed deep, until the pad of his finger was pinned to that spot and Chris’s rim was stretched wide.

  Chris’s words cut off with a deep, happy groan. “Fuuuuuck,” he sighed. He curled his arm around Tim’s shoulders when Tim pressed his lips right over Chris’s heart, not caring how it made the angle of Tim’s fingers weird or squashed his dick in Tim’s fist between their bodies. He thought he could stay like this forever.

  He told Tim as much. Told him he was gorgeous and had the best hands, both on the ice and in bed. He told Tim how he’d jerked off thinking about doing this, but hadn’t imagined it right at all. That this was better. Tim was better than he ever fantasized. And how he never, ever wanted to stop doing this. With Tim.

  Tim started out laughing at the stream of confessions pouring from Chris’s lips, but by the end, he was flushed and sweating, his shoulders trembling beneath Chris’s hands.

  His voice was rough when he gasped, “Chris. Chris, I can’t wait anymore, okay? Please.”

  Chris pressed a hand to Tim’s cheek and forced him to lift his head. He ran his fingers along Tim’s jaw, the pads catching on the stubble there, and smiled. “I want you to fuck me now. Please.”

  Tim jerked forward and kissed him fiercely, and then just as quickly pulled away to settle on his heels between Chris’s legs. Tim’s eyes turned calculating, and Chris’s heart thumped heavily in his chest as he watched Tim dump an obscene amount of lube over his bare dick.

  Tim looked up. “Is this okay?”

  Chris didn’t have to ask if Tim was clean. He knew he was, and not just because the team got them all tested. But also because they actually did talk about that shit. That was how he knew Tim had never gone bare before. And Tim knew Chris hadn’t either.

  “Yes.”

  Tim’s breath left him with a huff, a smile flashing over his face before he proceeded to attack Chris with the sheets.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Chris squawked, as Tim wrapped his cast in flannel and summarily rolled Chris onto that side. His next protest left him with a gasp when Tim slide up behind him, cupping the back of his good leg and bringing it up to his chest.

  “Here. Hold this.”

  “What?” Chris asked blankly, hooking his hand behind his knee as instructed.

  “Fucking cast,” Tim muttered as he plastered himself to Chris’s back. “Is this okay?”

  Chris nodded frantically, his brain finally catching up with what was happening. He was acutely aware of the slide of Tim’s cock along his spine as Tim eased further down the bed, until his chin was hooked over Chris’s shoulder and he settled on the mattress.

  Chris whimpered when Tim’s fingers slid back into his ass, testing his rim. “God, you feel so fucking good. So tight,” Tim said, his lips brushing Chris’s ear. Then his fingers were gone, and Chris held his breath as the broad head of Tim’s cock pressed up against him.

  Tim’s other arm curled under Chris’s neck and over his chest, holding him close.

  “You sure?”

  Chris looked up into Tim’s eyes, so close. “Of course I’m sure. I love you.”

  Why were those words ever hard to say?

  Tim’s hold tightened, crushing Chris against him. “I love you, too,” he said, his voice hoarse. Then his hips pressed forward, and the joy rushing through Chris was tangled with the slow, hot stretch of his body opening to Tim, the burn unlike anything he’d experienced in his life.

  He tested his body all the time. It was his job. But this was a measure he had never taken, and it felt good. Letting the tension go and feeling Tim push past his rim, taking Tim into his body, felt fucking amazing.

  Tim trembled behind him, moving his hips in gentle waves that pushed him farther into Chris. Brought them closer. Chris grabbed the hand on his chest, pressing it over his heart and wriggled back.

  Because, seriously, this was taking too long.

  Tim groaned against Chris’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  Chris shifted back again. “I’m trying to get you to fuck me,” he said with a frustrated sigh.

  Tim’s head popped up and his hips jerked forward, forcing his cock deeper.

  Chris whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut.

  “I was trying to be all romantic and slow and shit,” Tim confessed.

  “Knock it off.”

  “But—”

  “You can romance the shit out of me another time. I swear. Just please, please, now I want you to move.”

  Tim chuckled, the sound buzzing directly from his chest through Chris’s back. His lips traced over Chris’s shoulder. “Okay, then.”

  Tim’s hips rolled forward, and Chris pushed back, gasping as his body felt split in two by the long, hard thrust of Tim’s cock taking up residence deep inside him. Fuck. Tim’s hips pressed against his ass and he ground up against Chris, stretching him wider.

  “Like that?” Tim asked.

  Chris nodded frantically. His heart galloped in his chest. It felt amazing. He got why some people would say it hurt, but Chris was a hockey player, and he knew that some hurts were the good kind.

  Tim shifted against him again and on the next grind, hit that fucking spot.

  “Oh, fuck. Tim. Please,” Chris gasped, turning his face to bury it against the sheet.

  He groaned when Tim eased back, every inch of his shaft easing from Chris’s body and dragging over his rim sending bolts of pleasure through Chris. Chris’s mouth hung open, ready to beg, when Tim thrust back in.

  A grunt burst from Chris’s throat when Tim glanced over that sweet spot then bottomed out.

  Tim laughed and groaned at the same time.

  “What?” Chris asked, practically delirious with pleasure, but not so far gone he didn’t know Tim was laughing at him.

  “That’s the exact sound you make when you’re on the bench press.”

  To prove his point, Tim thrust again and another grunt tore from Chris. It was a good sound. Chris was too busy trying to process the deluge of sensations currently roaring through his body to come up with a better riposte than, “Shut up. You like it.”

  “Yeah. I do,” Tim replied, and Chris could hear his smile. Then Tim started working his hips in earnest, never letting up, and Chris made the noise again, over and over.

  As some point, the burn was replaced with pure pleasure. The stretch lost to overwhelming need. It all felt so fucking good. Tim thrust harder, faster, forcing that damn noise up and out of Chris time and again, and Chris didn’t care. Well, he did care. Because he never wanted this to end. He never wanted to stop making ridiculous noises if it meant Tim would fuck him like this, hold him close and whisper obscene promises in his ear and bury his cock so deep into Chris’s body he couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began.

  He jumped when Tim’s hand curled around his cock, so that each thrust pushed Chris’s dick through his fist. Chris would have bruises on his ribs where Tim’s other hand anchored him, held him fast against each punch of Tim’s hips.


  “Fuck, Fuck,” Tim chanted against Chris’s shoulder, eventually gasping, “I’m close.”

  He slammed forward one more time and ground his hips, his hand flying over Chris’s cock. Chris’s back arched, the building tension pulling taut until only his shoulders and his ass were touching Tim and he was grinding back.

  His climax crashed over him like a Zamboni going highway speed. The world went white, his only anchor to reality the press of Tim’s hands and the heavy press of his cock.

  Sensation returned with a rush, though Chris had no idea how much later. A second? An hour? It started with the hot bite of Tim’s teeth against his shoulder, and the loud, almost painful-sounding groan in his ear.

  Chris reached behind him as best he could and held Tim close as he shook through his orgasm, his other hand stilling Tim’s on his over-sensitive cock.

  Tim slumped onto the bed and against him. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

  Chris chuckled, then winced as Tim’s cock began to slip from his body. Tim’s hand patted his hip, as if in apology, a moment before he pulled the rest of the way out. Chris winced, but mostly from how sensitive he was, not because of any pain.

  He expected Tim to go get something to clean them up, but instead he just scooted back enough to help Chris roll onto his back, then curled back around him, tucking his legs so that Chris had to drape his good leg over them.

  Chris stared up at the ceiling, very, very aware of his ass leaking onto the sheets, and possibly onto Tim. It was mind-bendingly hot, when by all rights it should have been the opposite. Hell, they were both covered in lube and come, and Chris didn’t want to move a muscle to change it.

  Tim hummed and slid a hand down past Chris’s cock and behind his balls. Chris was too fucked out to flinch, not even when Tim pressed two fingers back inside his hole.

  “What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

  “Afterglow,” came Tim’s slurred response.

  “Isn’t this kind of messy for you?”

  “Exceptions should be made.”

  Chris grinned, then turned to look at Tim’s face.

  Tim blinked back blearily.

  “I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” Chris confessed quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just…I never thought you’d feel the same, you know? But I promise I’ll be better. I’ll tell you things.”

  Tim patted Chris’s stomach gently, a slow smile stretching across his face. “It’s okay, baby. I know how to get you to talk now.”

  About the Author

  Samantha Wayland has three great loves in life; her family, writing books, and hockey. She is often found apologizing to the first for how much time and attention is taken up by the latter two, but they forgive her because they are awesome and she clearly doesn’t deserve them.

  Sam lives with her family—of both the two and four-legged variety—outside of Boston. She is a wicked passionate New Englander (born and raised) who has been known to wax rhapsodic about the Maine Coast, the mountains of New Hampshire and Vermont, and the sensible way in which her local brethren don’t see a need for directional signals (blinkahs!). When she’s not locked away in her home office, she can generally be found tucked in the corner of the local Thai place with other socially-starved authors and an adult beverage.

  Her favorite things include mango martinis, tiny Chihuahuas with big attitude problems, and the Oxford comma.

  Sam loves to hear from readers. Email her at samantha@samanthawayland.com or find her on Facebook or Twitter (@samwayland).

  Also by Samantha Wayland

  With Grace

  A man yearning to explore his sexual tastes but afraid to turn up the heat, the woman who loves him but is hungry for more spice…and the chef who craves them both.

  When Grace, Philip and Mark find a mobster's flash drive full of incriminating information, they are quickly embroiled in a dangerous situation. They stay together for safety, but proximity ignites the sparks they've long been fighting to ignore.

  When three friends dare to succumb to their appetites, they find the perfect recipe for love.

  Destiny Calls

  Patrick didn't think it would be a big deal to kiss Brandon, his best friend and fellow police officer. Hell, they'd done crazier things to escape a bar fight. But then he had no way of knowing just how hot it would be.

  Destiny Matthews is not a woman who is afraid to ask for what she wants, and when she sees her two best friends kissing, she knows just what she's going to ask for. Before she can convince Patrick that he's not as straight as he likes to protest, Brandon is attacked by an unknown enemy.

  While they fight to protect each other's lives, they prove time and again that they're even better at protecting their own hearts.

  Fair Play

  Hat Trick Book One

  Savannah Morrison is the new athletic trainer for the Moncton Ice Cats, a professional hockey team in the wilds of New Brunswick. It’s a good thing she’s got plenty of knowledge and grit, because as the only woman trainer in the league, she has to work twice as hard to win the players’ respect. The last thing on earth she would do is date one of them.

  Twelve year hockey veteran Garrick LeBlanc isn’t ready to hang up his skates, particularly since he hasn’t figured out what the hell he’s planning to do next. He needs the new trainer to keep him fit to play, and she’s got the skills to do it. Too bad he lost his mind and hit on her the day they met. Now she hates his guts and he’s made an art of ignoring her.

  When the team is put up for sale, Garrick and Savannah have to work together to save their jobs and their team. Somewhere along the way, they discover Garrick isn’t just a hockey player, Savannah isn’t only passionate about her work, and just maybe they’ve got more in common than they thought.

  Two Man Advantage

  Hat Trick Book Two

  Rhian is working his way up the ranks of professional hockey, with the dream of making it to the NHL getting closer every day. He’s doing it alone—no family, no friends—and that’s the way he likes it. Then he arrives in New Brunswick, and meets the Moncton Ice Cats. Suddenly, he’s got friends—and even something that might be an honest-to-god crush.

  Garrick is lonely and counting the days until his last season with the Ice Cats is over and he can move to Boston. When his girlfriend suggests he take a lover—as long that lover is a man and Garrick tells her all about it—he laughs it off. But damned if his buddy Rhian doesn’t take on the starring role in his fantasies. Good thing Rhian is way too young—and straight—for what Garrick has in mind.

  Rhian takes a chance when Garrick’s increasingly confusing signals start making sense, and soon discovers he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Sex with strangers is simple. Sex with his best friend? Complicated.

  End Game

  Hat Trick Book Three

  Garrick LeBlanc never intended to fall in love with two people, but he has, and now he has to figure out what to do about it. He wants to make them happy, but is afraid he’s doing just the opposite. To make matters worse, he’s trapped in New Brunswick until the end of the hockey season, while his lovers are both in Boston.

  Savannah Morrison has no one but herself to blame for practically shoving her lover into the arms of another man. After all, it was her idea that Garrick take a lover while they are separated for the season. She loves Garrick with all her heart, but how the hell is she going to share him with Rhian?

  Rhian Savage used to have such a simple life. Now he’s in love, his dreams of skating on an NHL team are coming true, and he keeps spotting a strangely familiar face in the crowds. To top it all off, he has to see Savannah every day. He knows she’s Garrick’s real future, but he doesn’t have the balls to do the right thing for all of them and end it—until his life goes sideways. As usual.

  Now Rhian is alone, Garrick is heartbroken, and Savannah—the one person Rhian figured would celebrate his departure—is beating down his door. What the hell is up with that?


  Crashing the Net

  Mike comes to Moncton wanting nothing more than to play for the Ice Cats and finally live on his own terms. He’s broke, bruised, and covered from head to toe in cheap lube, but he isn’t going to let that stop him. All he needs is a place to live and some time to figure out how to reconcile who he really is with who everyone wants him to be.

  Dumping three gallons of lube on the new kid is just another day at the office for Alexei. He knows exactly who he is: a goalie on the ice, a prankster in the locker room, and a man who knows better than to share his private life with anyone. He’s let people in before and it’s taught him that if he can’t have what he really wants, it’s better to be alone.

  Despite their apparent differences, an unlikely friendship grows. Neither of them could ever have guessed how much they really have in common.

  Home & Away

  You can build a team, but you have to find your home.

  Rupert Smythe is fond of many things. Callum Morrison isn’t one of them.

  Rupert is a quiet, thoughtful business man and, sadly, a total wimp. Maybe not the ideal candidate to run a professional hockey team, but he signed on to do it anyway. As his life has reminded him on an almost daily basis since, this isn’t the most brilliant idea he’s ever had. And that was before Callum showed up.

  Being in the spotlight is just part of being a professional athlete, but Callum needs a break. He arrives in Moncton unannounced, determined to help grow the team he just bought, and under the assumption he’d be welcome. Possibly he should have tried to make a better first impression.

  Callum figures he can push through the rest of the summer, never expecting two kids, a host of friends, and his growing feelings for Rupert to derail everything he has ever believed about what he wanted, and what he could have.