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SHAWN

“Oh yeah, baby. Suck my dick. Suck it just like that.”

The brunette, currently on her knees in front of me, bobs her head enthusiastically. I grip her hair, more for effect than because I’m intending to ram my cock into her throat. I don’t enjoy watching girls gag on my dick. It’s too big for even the real pros to deep throat, and too much slobber gives me the ick. But even though this girl is pretty good at the task at hand, I’m bored as fuck.

Across the hall, Jacob’s headboard is knocking into the wall with rhythmic determination. After he got rejected by the curvy bombshell in the black dress, he picked up his usual fare: a skinny blonde with average-sized tits and killer legs. He’s not going without tonight, but I don’t think it’s going to ease the rejection. I’ve never seen him turned down before.

He’s never gone through what I experienced with my ex, Lucy. It still stings that she dumped me for Harris, and stings even more than he chose her pussy over my friendship.

That won’t happen again. Not now that I’m primed for the draft. Girls are falling over themselves to get into my bed. They have a thing for athletes, like our skill on the field or the ice will translate to skills between the sheets. It translates into killer stamina, but a lot of athletic dudes get lazy in the sack. When there are girls on tap every night, worrying about their pleasure can take a back seat.

I’m not like that, but some of my teammates brag about leaving girls wet and wanting like it’s a badge of achievement to take pleasure and not give it in return.

I want to come, but I’m not getting there like this. After three years of this shit, there’s something missing about sex. I used to go off like a rocket, but now it takes serious focus and a lot of effort on a girl’s part. It’s like the gloss has worn off fucking, and all that’s left is the functionality. And let’s be honest, sex is fucking weird when you think about it: taking a stranger home so you can stick your dick in parts of her body and rub yourselves together, reveling in sweat and other bodily fluids. It has its moments, but the less I’m into it, the more aware I am of the unsexy stuff.

I tug her face from my cock and wipe her puffy lips with my thumb. “That was good, baby, but I want to feel you come on my dick.”

She’s on her back in a flash, which isn’t my favorite position for a one-night stand. There’s too much potential eye contact, and she’ll want to kiss me with the mouth that’s just been wrapped around my dick. I’m not weirded out by my body, but I can’t be fucked to pretend this is more than a quick fuck to scratch an itch.

I climb over her naked body and roll her over, pressing my knees into her thighs so I can keep her legs nice and tight. I get my dick wrapped and inside her in record time and focus on the wall above my bed as I pound into her. When she’s moaning and writhing, I slick my finger and slide my hand beneath her hip, finding her clit. It takes some concentration and coordination to make her come, but it’s worth it because when she clamps down on my dick, pulsing in contracting waves, I unload deep in her pussy. See, a woman’s pleasure hasn’t gotten old for me. It’s the one thing that can trip my switch without effort. My legs shake and my chest heaves. Sweat drips down the groove in my spine, leaving a cold trail. The girl—I can’t remember her name—tries to roll over, but I press my hand to her spine to catch my breath.

My orgasm was like having a long pee after holding it in for an hour. There’s relief, but it’s short-lived.

I get up from the bed, tug off the condom, tie it, and toss it in the trash can. I don’t have to worry about her doing anything sus with it because she’s not sleeping over.

“Thanks,” I say as she turns to smile lazily at me. “I needed that.”

“Thank you,” she says. “You rocked my world.”

“So, I need to get to sleep. I’ve got early training tomorrow.” She pats the bed next to her, and I cringe. I guess she’s never heard of this brush-off before. I try to pick girls who are regular skate chasers so we both know what to expect. “What I mean is, I don’t sleep well with someone else in the bed. I need my space.”

She smiles brightly, but just before it stretches her face, I glimpse disappointment in her expression. We both got the same thing out of tonight, and she can’t possibly believe that any man wifes a girl who sucked his dick within an hour of meeting her.

Maybe she does. Girls have funny ideas about romance. I blame it on fairytales and Only Fans.

I don’t watch her dress, focusing instead on pulling on basketball shorts and getting my training gear together for the morning. When I’m sure she’s ready, I walk her to the door and lean in to press a kiss to her cheek. The word ‘thanks’ slips from my lips, and I cringe, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Maybe we could do it again sometime,” she says.

“Maybe.” I cringe again because there are no repeats of this show. It’s a standalone episode. Strictly a one and done.

On the way back up the stairs, I run into Jacob’s one-night stand, making her way down on shaky legs. She grins at me, oblivious to the bird’s nest her hair currently resembles. “If you’re up for it next time,” she says, resting her hand on my slick bare chest, over my tattoo, fluttering her eyelids. “You could join us.”

There won’t be a next time for her, either, but I don’t tell her that. I’m not averse to sharing with my brother, but not this girl.

“Have a good night,” I say, slipping past her.

I need water and sleep to get my mind back into hockey.

***

I leave home before anyone else is awake, jogging to campus with my stuff in my backpack. Once a week, I try to make an early swim at the student fitness center. The athletic center we use for hockey training has a sauna and plunge pool but no swimming facilities, and I miss the feeling of freedom I get when I do lengths. My shoulders need the rotation it provides and including it in my training regimen has kept me injury-free.

I’m the first person in the pool, and I dive in, lingering beneath the water for a while as it clears my head. My mom used to call me her water baby because I could hold my breath for ages in the bath, scaring the bejesus out of her.

Jacob and Hayes don’t understand my fascination with the ocean and don’t share my love of swimming, but that’s fine. It’s good to have something that’s just for me. Being a triplet has many pros, but it doesn’t stop me from craving individuality occasionally.

I start my lengths, counting strokes and keeping my breathing even. The power in my muscles surges as I strike through the water. My mind, so used to skimming across the ice, plays tricks on me, combining the two sensations, mirroring the tipsiness I get after three beers. After ten laps, I pull myself half out of the water, hooking my arms over the side and relax.

Until I realize I’m not alone.

A girl stands at the side of the pool, her blonde hair twisted into a messy bun on the top of her head, goggles already in place. Dressed in a dark blue one piece, which clings to outrageous curves, she stares into the water. She registers my presence, looking over at me for just a second before she jumps.

With just two seconds of visual contact, I connect the dots. She’s the girl from the Red Devil who chewed Jacob up and spat him right out. I smile at the memory. Shit, I love my brother, but he carries around a chip on his shoulder that inflates his ego with a hot-air balloon of arrogance. When we’re alone, he still resembles the Jacob I grew up with, the brother who’d step in the way of any danger to protect us, but out in the world, when he’s playing hockey or in a social environment, this other persona, a mask, takes over. At least, I think it’s a mask. It’s hard to tell. I pointed it out once, but his angry response was to tell me he’s not a kid anymore and no one will ever walk over him again, which just made me sad.

Fuck.

None of us are kids anymore.

None of us want to go back to those days.

I just wish he wouldn’t wear his armor plating all the time.

The girl starts by swimming breaststroke. There’s an elegance to her style that only comes with the confidence of regular swimming. Then she switches to crawling and cuts through the water like she’s an aquatic creature rather than a land-dwelling human. Fascinated, I watch for a length, then enter the water as she turns at the end, racing her in a fast-paced lap. She’s good. Better than I would ever have guessed, but not as fast as me. Men have a level of upper body strength that it’s not possible for women to compete against. Still, she’s a skilled swimmer, and I respect everything about that.

I complete all my planned laps and then pull myself onto the side of the pool, watching her swim some more. Eventually, she comes up for air, too, clinging to the tiled side while she catches her breath.

“You’re a great swimmer,” I say. My deep voice echoes in the cavernous space, and she flinches.

Pulling up her goggles, she focuses her dark brown eyes on me. I noticed them yesterday; how they soak up all the light into their thoughtful depths. She’d looked scared when Jacob’s attention laser focused on her, which struck me as odd. Most girls are eager to catch his attention, and if not eager, then at least curious.

“Thanks.” Her rich tone makes me wonder if she can sing like Adele.

“You swim a lot?”

She pulls off her goggles and easily hauls herself out of the water. “Are you asking if I come here often?”

I laugh at the cheesy pickup line. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“I’m a freshman,” she says. Well, that explains a lot.

“Did you enjoy tearing my brother a new one?”

She shrugs as rivulets of water run from her shoulders into her cleavage. My mouth goes dry watching.

“Your brother’s an outstanding hockey player, but he’d be even better on and off the ice if he lost the attitude.”

I rub the back of my neck and stretch my arms overhead, conscious that I might stiffen up in the cool air and undo the work I just put in. “He’s a good guy, and he loves his sport.”

“And sticking his dick into anything with a pulse.”

“He’s an athlete.” It sounds like an excuse, but it’s not. If women could experience what it’s like to bear the load of all this testosterone, they’d understand our fixation with porn and fucking. If I don’t release every day, my balls ache, and my training goes to shit. Jacob and Hayes are the same, and if our teammates’ track records are anything to go by, I guess it’s not just a Drayton problem.

“And my vagina is not an extension of the hockey training facility.”

Like a preteen in sex-ed, my cock twitches at the mention of the V word. Jesus. Have I not matured even slightly since then? There’s no blaming it on pent-up sexual tension because I fucked less than twelve hours ago, and I jerked off this morning. If my dick gets any more action, it’ll drop off.

“I’m not suggesting it is. What’s your name?”

“I told your brother last night.”

She rubs the water from her thighs, and my gaze follows the movement. Even though they’re thick, they’re toned, and her skin has a slight tan left over from summer. Jacob told me he didn’t know her name, but he thought there was something familiar about her. He asked if I’d fucked her, but it was a definite no from me. There is something, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Did we go to school together?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

“Are you secretly famous?”

“I don’t think being secretly famous is a thing.”

“Smart ass.” I grin because her sassiness is funny, and I appreciate humor in a woman.

“I’m not famous.” She smiles, but something about it makes me wonder if she’s lying. Something secretive and knowing.

“So, why do you look so familiar?”

“I have no idea. But you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Maybe you’ll work it out.”

“I’ve got good hands, too, if you need help with stretching,” I offer hopefully.

She smirks and rises, and I follow, drawing up to my full six-two. Her black-coffee gaze drifts over my dripping wet body, following a rivulet of water between my pecs, over the ladder of my abs, and into the waistband of my shorts. It’s like she’s mesmerized or doesn’t give a shit if I notice her staring. Her eyes linger on my shorts, which are clinging to my package. I try to stifle my grin, but she’s too cute and way too obvious. For all her denial, she likes what she sees.

I grab my dick and heft it to the side, interrupting her fascinated gawping, and laugh when she takes a step back, like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“See something you like?”

“Nope.”

“Mmmm. Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because your ego is identical to your brother’s.”

“We’re identical in a lot of ways I think you’d enjoy.”

She rolls her eyes, but I swear she’s biting back a smile. “Not all girls are hankering for a share of your hand-me-down hog.”

I cover my heart with my hand. “You wound me, stranger. My hog isn’t a hand-me-down. He’s an expert in his field. A virtuoso, a maestro, a connoisseur.”

She does laugh this time. “Keep telling yourself that, Drayton.” When she turns and walks away, giving me a perfect view of her peachy ass in all its jiggling glory, I force myself not to follow.

Hand-me-down hog.

And she last named me. I shake my head. The girl has something about her. Something familiar and something that’s gotten my dick hard like the good old days.

Maybe she won’t tell me her name, but I’ll find it out, one way or another. Jacob might have spotted her first, but that doesn’t mean he’s immune from some competition.

It’s game on, baby!