Page 1 of Lucky Shot
ONE
ELIXON “LIX” KIPLER
“Areyou really going to walk around naked?” Oddny asks as Max swaggers by. His hair is a fucking mess, which is impressive considering how short it is. He yawns and scratches at his stomach before dropping his hand down to scratch his junk. Then he winces and glares at Oddny as if it were his fault.
“Yes,” Max says and sways his hips in such a way that his dick slaps his thighs. It only makes him wince further, since his cock is heavily sunburned.
Oddny shakes his head. “Maybe you oughtn’t fall asleep in the sun without clothes.”
“Oughtenantt,” Max scoffs. “Use English words.”
I shake my head as Max turns to walk away.
“It was English until you butchered it,” Oddny snickers. He glances at me. “At least he has a nice ass.”
My gaze travels back to where Max is heading for the small group by the jetted hot tub. I kind of hope he tries to get into it. That’ll really burn his cock. The thought makes me smirk as an image of him howling like a banshee as he jumps out of the water and probably falls onto his face streaks through my head.
We’re aboard a 436-foot yacht that literally has everything you could ever imagine. Including a really hot crew of fifty-two men that wear very little and wait on us all day. None are quite as impressive as the captain himself, a man that can’t be more than in his late thirties, named Tal Weiss. I’m not sure what it is about this man, but fuck, he’s going to star in my fantasies for sure.
He already has.
The ‘Gays Can Play’ crew across all professional sports have made this a tradition every year since there became a handful of usoutin sports. I wasn’t one of the first, but I think I joined somewhere around the third annual spring/summer trip. That sweet spot when most professional sports are on off season.
While it’s not just hockey players in attendance, we usually make up the majority of the attendees. Part of me thinks it’s because we all get to watch Max make a fool of himself and manage at least a single scandal before we head back to our final destination in Miami at the end of the trip. At minimum one. Three years ago, there were no less than four.
I’m honestly not sure how he’s able to keep his contracts. It’s one thing to be a great player—and he sure as fuck is—but man, the negative PR he brings to his teams is incredible. My understanding is Max is on a tight leash these days. Between his agent and the Philly coaches, he’s on his last chance.
He is somewhat protected on the Opulence, though. The entire crew signed an NDA before we boarded. So at least when he’s on deck, he’s fairly safe to be the problematic man he is. As I watch him flirt shamelessly with one of the crew, I wonder how many he’s already fucked. Maximus Latham, hockey’s fuckboy extraordinaire.
Although, I halfheartedly wonder if he’ll be fucking anything with his cock as red and angry as it is. And that’s not from arousal. The idea alone makes me wince. I’m not sure I’d even want to stroke it myself if that were me. He really does have a fucking burn in the most unfortunate of places.
Maybe it’s karma.
Next to me, Odd snickers and shakes his head, muttering about Max being an idiot. Oddny Charles is one of the ten or so on board who are not hockey players. He plays American football for Seattle. I think he’s pretty good, but I’d be lying if I say I follow other sports with more than a cursory interest. I like to see who wins their championships but otherwise, I have my hands full keeping up with hockey and the teams and players we face.
“He’s harmless,” I say, then tilt my head. “Though I’d stay away from him in public. He’s likely to take you down with him and probably not even intentionally. I don’t think he realizes he’s causing chaos while doing it.”
“You really think he’s that naïve?” Oddny asks.
I shrug. “I’ve known Max for a while, and I genuinely don’t think he’s a bad guy. He clearly wants attention. That stems from somewhere.”
Oddny snorts. “I like attention too, but I don’t get my dick sunburned as an excuse to walk around nude.”
“It could be worse. At least he’s… nice to look at.”
“Yeah…” he says and his eyes flicker to the man walking out of the cabin.
Noah Kain is a wingman for the Florida Manatees. He’s one of the few who actually came into the sport already out. I’m always surprised when I see him out of his gear. He’s… pretty. Slight build, lean with lithe muscles. His skin is smooth and flawless. His hair, blond, slightly long, and usually a mess, falls to his jawline and frames dark brown eyes and perfect pink lips.
There’s always a line of people after him. Eyes trailing him. He’s just one of those people who you can’t help but watch because their beauty is so radiant. I can’t help the image that always flashes in my head of putting him in a dress, just so I can run my fingers over his smooth planes wrapped in satin.
He’s a good kid. I refer to him as ‘kid’ in my head constantly because he’s a decade younger than me. It helps me keep perspective.
Especially when he smiles because his youth just shines through.
“Mm,” Oddny hums. I glance his way to see him watching Noah too. Unlike me, I can see the desire in his eyes. I’m able to look at Noah objectively because there’s only the acknowledgment that he’s attractive. There’s nothing in me that turns on at the thought, though.
Noah’s eyes flicker our way, probably feeling us watching him. He gives us a grin and continues further down the deck toward the bow of the ship, where there are couches and a bar.
