Page 192 of The Blame Game

He liked having Shea’s coffee ready for him before he left though.

When Dom handed it over to him, the soft look in Shea’s eyes and the smile on his face when he kissed Dom goodbye was enough to make him feel like he was falling in love with Shea all over again.

Dom crept quietly through the dark bedroom, not wanting to wake Shea, but he stirred almost immediately.

“Hey, welcome home,” Shea said huskily.

“Hi,” Dom said, taking a seat beside his hip and squinting in the dark bedroom. “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

Shea yawned. “I woke when you got home, I think.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” Dom pressed a kiss to his shoulder, surprised to feel fabric against his lips instead of the warm, bare skin he’d expected. Shea usually slept in a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else.

“I know.” Shea let out a soft sigh. “It’s okay.”

Dom breathed in his scent, the familiarity of it making him smile. He touched Shea’s hair, combing his fingers through it. “You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“What if I’d rather do something else?” Shea reached out and turned on the lamp beside the bed.

Dom blinked at the sudden brightness before his gaze landed on the green and white fabric stretched across Shea’s shoulders.

“Really?” he said hoarsely.

Shea chuckled, the sound a low, warm noise that curled around him like a physical caress. “You like it, huh?”

“Fuck yes I do.” Dom felt a little shaky as he pulled the covers back to reveal the entire jersey and Shea’s bare lower body.

Dom traced his fingers across the white lettering. O-L-S-O-N and then the number 63 below, wetting his lips at the sight of Shea’s muscular ass on display.

Silently, Shea reached for Dom’s hand, setting it on his bare butt cheek in blatant invitation.

“Yeah?” Dom asked, brushing his thumb across the soft skin. He shouldn’t be thinking about sex. He was tired from the game and the drinks and well, being a forty-year-old pro hockey player.

But the feel of Shea’s warm, smooth skin under his palm was difficult to resist, as was the sight of Shea in Dom’s jersey.

They’d had to go weeks without sex while Dom was recovering from his surgery. They’d been making up for it lately but arousal still settled low in his belly, urgent like they hadn’t given each other handjobs in the shower this morning.

“What do you want me to do?” Dom asked huskily, already smoothing his hand across the globes of Shea’s ass, gripping the muscle and kneading it.

“I think that should be pretty obvious,” Shea said with a low laugh. He settled his cheek on the pillow, sliding his arms underneath. “I want you to fuck me. Wearing nothing but your jersey.”

“Oh, do you now?” Dom leaned forward, pressing his lips to the corner of Shea’s stubbled jaw, his other hand wandering to the cleft between Shea’s cheeks because he wasn’t going to turn down an invitation like that.

“Mm-hmm.” Shea arched into Dom’s touch. “Watching your game made me hot.”

Dom was unsurprised to find the spot between his cheeks slick and the blunt end of a plug stopping him when he tried to go deeper but it still made his breath catch to think of Shea prepping himself this way.

“Next time I want to watch you put a plug in,” he rasped, toying with the plug for a minute, pressing it in and twisting a little. “Or maybe I’ll do it for you.”

“You could always do it after you come inside me,” Shea said, grinding his cock against the sheets.

“Christ, you’re going make me come in my pants,” Dom said, pressing the plug in deeper, loving the way Shea trembled.

“Fuck, don’t tease me, Dom,” he pleaded.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.” Dom laughed softly, tugging and making Shea moan. “You’re the one who told me to go out with the boys when you had all this planned.”

“I guess I didn’t think it through. I’ve had the plug in for a couple of hours,” Shea admitted, his hips rocking with every thrust Dom made with the toy. “And it’s been driving me crazy. I’ve been half-hard the whole time, thinking about you.”

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