Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(86)

He trailed off when Ilya wrapped his hand around both of their cocks.

“I want that too,” Ilya said. “I love you.”

They moved quickly, Ilya sitting with his back against the headboard and Shane straddling his lap. They kissed for a long time like that, as Ilya continued to stroke their cocks together.

“Oh god,” Shane shuddered. “I have to—you have to stop. I need you inside me.”

“Mm. Not yet. Stroke yourself for me.”

“Can’t. Ilya, I’ll come. I swear—”

“Stroke yourself. A little. I think you can do it and not come.”

Ilya had no idea why he got so much enjoyment from causing Shane distress, but he did. He loved to see him all agitated and struggling to keep control.

“If you love me...” Ilya added obnoxiously.

Shane’s eyes narrowed. “I’m starting to question that.”

Ilya shook his head, grinning. “You love me. Show me how much. Stroke yourself and maybe I will fuck you.”

As if there was even a chance that Ilya wouldn’t.

Shane wrapped trembling fingers around his cock and very carefully dragged them up the length of his shaft. Ilya gasped at this display of obedience. He knew Shane wasn’t lying about how dangerously close he was. His slit was dripping precome.

“I love how fucking wet you get, Shane.”

“Sh-shut up.” Shane’s whole body was shaking. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

Ilya chuckled. “Your dick wants you to go faster.”

“Can’t go faster,” Shane gritted out.

Ilya lightly cupped Shane’s balls, causing Shane to hiss out a breath and a string of profanity. “So tight, Hollander. Keep going.”

Shane whimpered. “You bastard. You have to fuck me.”

“Soon.”

“Now.”

A fresh bead of precome spurted out and Ilya caught it on his fingertip. Shane watched, wide-eyed, as Ilya sucked the finger into his mouth.

“God, Ilya. You are—fuck. Would you please fuck me?” Shane panted.

All right. Enough was enough. Ilya reached for the lube and a condom from the bedside table and got himself ready.

And, oh, god, when Shane sank down on him, his whole body trembling with need, it was the most incredible thing Ilya had ever felt. He rocked up into Shane’s body as Shane held Ilya’s face and kissed him.

He felt Shane everywhere.

Shane braced himself with a hand on the headboard, and the other on Ilya’s shoulder, and used all of his considerable strength to ride the hell out of Ilya’s cock. He trapped Ilya’s hips between his solid thighs, and pounded that perfect ass down on Ilya’s lap over and over and fuck.

Shane threw his head back, and Ilya watched his cock bounce in the space between them. Ilya wondered if Shane would shoot instantly if he touched it.

He wondered if Shane would shoot anyway, without any contact on his glistening cock.

“So good, Ilya. Holy shit. Fuck. I am so fucking close.”

And suddenly Ilya realized that he was too. He had the endurance of a stallion with most partners, but he couldn’t ever seem to control his body when he was with Shane.

“Do it, fuck. Give it to me, Hollander. I’m right there.”

“I love you. I love you. Oh, shit. Here it comes—”

They both cried out as Shane’s release splashed against Ilya’s chest. His body spasmed around Ilya’s cock and Ilya was hurled over the edge, coming hard with a garbled “I love you.”

“Oh my god,” Shane wheezed. His forehead landed on Ilya’s shoulder. “That was perfect.”

“Yes. Perfect.” Ilya wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. As close as possible.

Eventually, Shane eased off him, and Ilya disposed of the condom. They cuddled together in bed, both men quiet and sleepy and deliriously happy.

“What was your mother’s name?” Shane asked suddenly. His fingers were tracing the chain around Ilya’s neck.

“Irina.” Ilya hadn’t said her name in so long, it felt strange in his mouth. “Why?”

“I was just thinking.” He propped himself up on an elbow. “The charity we start, I think we should start a hockey school. Like, we could have summer hockey camps in Ottawa and Montreal.”

“And we give the money away?”

“Yeah. I think we should give the money to mental health organizations. Maybe...suicide prevention?”

Shane was looking away, as if he were embarrassed, but Ilya held his chin and guided his face toward him.

“It was just an idea,” Shane said quietly.

And Ilya was not going to cry right now.

“Shane,” he said, “I love that idea.”

“Yeah?” Shane smiled.

“Yes. It’s very...” Fuck. What was the right word? Was there a right word for everything Ilya was feeling in that moment? He couldn’t think of one, so instead he said, “She would have loved you.”

“I wish I could have met her.”

“Yes. Me too.”

Shane yawned and snuggled against Ilya’s chest. “Sorry. I’m exhausted.”

“My fault, I suppose.”

“Absolutely your fault. But I forgive you,” Shane said with another yawn.