Page 87 of Cross the Line

“Objectify away.” Boone grinned, and Zayn agreed.

“Maybe it was for a bachelorette party,” Logan said.

“I fear the bachelorette party guests will be sorely disappointed,” Cece said.

“Their loss is our gain,” Holden said in that accent of his. “It’s fucking hilarious.”

“Right?” Cece smiled at him over her shoulder.

Someone started chanting, “Cap-tain. Cap-tain. Cap-tain,” and others joined in, until Gabe could no longer refuse.

He rolled his eyes then bent forward so his mouth was close to the tip of the ice sculpture’s dick. It was large, impossibly so. I mean, accurately proportioned to the man, but still…big.

“God, I wish I had my phone,” I muttered.

Logan laughed, leaning into my side. This was nice, having her here, leaning on me. Celebrating with our friends and my teammates.

Boone poured tequila down the chute, and it dribbled out of the dick and into Gabe’s mouth. Gabe never did anything like this, never let loose like this. As hockey’s golden boy, he had a reputation to maintain. And while I respected the hell out of him for being such an upstanding guy, it was nice to see him let go for once. Be human.

When Gabe backed away, Boone’s fists shot into the air, the bottle clutched in one of them. “Fuck yes!”

Everyone else cheered, and Cece laughed. “I really need to meet whoever came up with the idea for this sculpture.”

Several other people took their turn, with increasingly ridiculous shenanigans. It was both fucking hilarious and slightly disturbing to watch. It was probably a good thing that everyone’s phones had been confiscated.

And then Boone called, “Hey, Georgia. Does this count against your dick detox?” He gestured toward the giant ice cock.

“I think I can make an exception for such a fine specimen.” She held her hand just beneath the balls of the sculpture, grinning.

There was a chorus of hoots and a few wolf whistles. A waiter poured alcohol through the chute, and she lapped it up, standing to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.

Boone tilted his head, brow furrowing. “I thought you were off tequila.”

She shrugged. “Guess I’m back on it again.”

“Does that mean you’re back on dick again too?” someone called. “Because I’ll show you a fine specimen.”

I rolled my eyes, though it was funny. Georgia had been around all of us long enough that a comment like that didn’t ruffle her. She shot back, “I bet it doesn’t shoot tequila from the tip.”

That elicited a round of guffaws. Logan leaned toward Georgia. “Careful, or they’ll start comparing their dicks to the ice sculpture.”

Cece snorted, and Georgia rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Who’s up next?” Boone asked, and I stepped forward.

I peered up at the ice sculpture, impressed by the artistry, the talent. It was beautiful but temporary. Though I supposed that made me admire them all the more for creating something so breathtaking while knowing it wouldn’t last.

“Impressive, huh?” Boone waggled his brows.

I laughed, angling so my back was to the rest of the team, while I lined up to take my shot. I could see Carson off to the side, watching. Our eyes locked, and I kept my gaze on him as the alcohol began to flow into my mouth.

After the stunt he’d pulled in the hot tub, bringing me to the edge, only to leave me wanting, I decided to fuck with him a little. My tongue darted out, licking the tip of the monster ice cock. His eyes darkened then narrowed as if to say, “You are in so much trouble.”

My skin was heated from the way he was looking at me. The way he’d been looking at me all night. Not to mention the way he’d touched me and the things he’d said.

He knew what he was doing to me—he had to. Having me grind on his thigh at the club. Teasing my clit in the hot tub where anyone could’ve seen… We were playing a dangerous game, but I was having too much fun to care. I never allowed myself to let loose like this—solely with him. I was so keyed up, I might combust.

But there was only so much I could take. So I straightened, heading in the direction of Cece’s potting shed. I glanced over my shoulder, locking gazes with Carson before inclining my head in invitation.