Like You’ve Nothing Left to Prove (Breakaway #2)

by E.L. Massey

“The hell?” Asher says faintly. “Are you two fucking?” “Oh, Alex,” Eli says, dry as the Sahara. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have put my book down.”

“So, wait,” Asher says to Alex. “Back to the cuddling thing. Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?” “Is that sexual innuendo?” Eli asks. “No. I’m genuinely curious.” “I’m the knife,” Alex mutters. “He’s the little spoon,” Eli says. “Not all the time!” Alex argues. “We take turns!”

“I want to marry you,” Alex says, and that is…not what he meant to say. Shit. “And I know I’m not supposed to tell you. Because it’s way too soon, and I’m still pretty fucked up, and you’re eighteen and barely know who you are yet much less what you want from someone else but— I want to be what you want. So this is— There are no second thoughts with us. Okay?”

“Okay. Peverly says bad things, beginning of period against the boards when I’m fight him for puck. He says Alex bad captain—blah blah. And I’m say yes, Alex very bad captain. I ask, every day, for threesome with Alex and Eli, and Alex say no. Because he’s jealous. If we threesome, Eli knows I’m best at sex, and then Eli like me most, and then Alex is sad and alone and only cat loves him—”

“And he’s definitely a grower, not a shower, which threw me off at first because I’m not a size queen or anything, but I have to admit—”

“Hey man, you brought it up. Anyway. Back to Eli’s dick.”

“Yes,” Kuzy said seriously. “We make Alex wear blindfold in the shower so he’s not see our dicks. Because no homo. Is rainbow blindfold though. Because Hell Hounds also pro-homo. You know?”

A Chicago Wolf.

Koochie 😩😩