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Quinn’s breasts press into the side of my bare arm, her hand sliding over my growing erection in my sweats just as Beck tugs on my earlobe with his teeth.

“How do you feel?” he asks huskily.

Quinn increases her pressure on my cock, and my eyes drift close. “So good.”

He chuckles. “I meant about the game.”

I open my eyes to Beck’s, his brown pools sparkling.

“The game is over. I think we have more important things to focus on now. Don’t you agree?”

The sparkle in his gaze transforms into something more mischievous, dark brows narrowing. “Are you being a brat?”

Quinn grips my shaft, and I groan, eyes rolling into the back of my head. “M-maybe.”

Beck hums. “Does that mean you’re ready to have your sweet ass spanked red?”

Fuck. It’s been so long since he last spanked me—and I mean really spanked me.

While the past eight months with Beck and Quinn have been full of sex and figuring out what the three of us all like, anything too intense was off the table during hockey season. There was light spanking, and of course nights where the three of us fucked each other hoarse, but anything that would leave me unable to walk the next day (or few days) was off-limits.

My body is how I earn my living, and in Beck’s words, “You need to take care of it. I’m not going to harm it, and neither are you.” Which was his way of saying my extreme runs on the treadmill stopped, too. Those were difficult to give up, especially on hard days, but between therapy and my partners, I don’t punish my body out of fear or self-loathing anymore.

Consensual punishment, however, under a man like Beck and a woman like Quinn—who’s been learning how to step into her dominant nature more by the day—that’s another story.

And now that the season is over, I’m fucking ready to be used in any way they want, to experience pain and pleasure by their hands, and to let go and breathe after a long season.

My cock jerks in Quinn’s grasp at the thought, and I swallow hard, anticipation thrumming through my veins.

“He likes that idea.” My wife nips at my Adam’s apple, the feel of her hard nipples through her thin pink T-shirt sending goosebumps down my arms.

Beck drags my gaze to his, thumb stroking my jaw. “You ready to be our pain slut again, Noah?”

I nod on a gasp when Quinn’s finger trails over the V of my lower abs and stomach, muscles contracting under her touch.

Beck leans in and hovers his lips over mine. “Use your words, slut.”

“Yes, Beck. Yes, Quinn. I want to be your pain slut again.”

His warm tongue trails over my lips, and I part them, but he pulls back before we can fully kiss. “What about our cum slut?”

Quinn’s touch trails lower, slipping under the band of my gray sweats and over the trimmed hair above my cock. My hips lift up automatically, and I have to hold back a pathetic whine.

“P-please,” I beg.

“Seems like our little slut is being greedy already.”

A silent conversation passes between my partners. The two have built an incredible symbiosis together, and I’ve loved watching their relationship grow.

Were there times I felt jealous of how easily they fit together? Yes, but that’s natural, and we’ve always worked through it. Because there were times where Quinn felt the same about Beck and I and our history and Beck felt the same about my and Quinn’s marriage. But like all relationships, we had a greater goal: our desire to be together.

“It seems so,” Quinn purrs, her hand shifting lower until she can fist my growing shaft. I curse at the sensation. “He’s so hot and thick already,” she muses as she pumps me.

“Take him out, pretty girl. I want to see him leaking for us.”

I curse again when she pulls my cock from my sweats; the band resting under my balls adds a delicious pressure.

Beck bends forward and licks the head of my cock. My hips jerk, and he does it again while Quinn jacks me nice and slow, pushing more beads of pre-cum from the slit that Beck can devour.