Page 101 of Her Devils

I’m extremely tempted to go find him and check on him in the hopes that he’s as drunk as a skunk, or so help me God.

A look at Channing’s pissed off expression tells me that he’s having the same thought.

I’m willing to bet my spot on Team USA that the asshole found a way to get Peyton to drink while he’s stone-cold sober. I wouldn’t put anything past Darrius Penn to get rid of the competition, even if it turns out to be within his own team.

We grab Peyton’s keycard from the back pocket of his jeans, and I manhandle him toward a recliner in his bedroom while Lenley looks for painkillers in the first aid kit in the bathroom and Channing grabs two bottles of water from the mini fridge in the living room of the hotel suite.

“Here, take these.” Lenley offers him two white tablets, but Peyton shakes his head, squirming.

“I’m not drunk. I’m fine,” he protests.

That’s confirmation that he’s three sheets to the wind. Drunk Peyton always swears he isn’t drunk.

“Sure, babe,” Lenley agrees in her most soothing tone. “But take them anyway, just so you don’t wake up with a huge headache tomorrow.”

She manages to put the pills in his mouth and coaxes him to take a few sips of water.

“I need to charge my phone for tomorrow. Dad wants footage of the pre-jump from all of us.”

Peyton stumbles toward the dresser in front of the huge king-sized bed, fumbling with the charging pad strip that’s installed in the wall. “Okay, done,” he slurs, turning to look at Lenley. “You look beautiful, Snow. Come here, I want to take that little dress off you.”

Oh, fuck no.

“Yeah, I don’t think so, dude,” I reply, pushing him back into the armchair until he sits down. “You’re in no condition to do anything that requires you to take your clothes off. Or Lenley’s,” I inform him.

“But I’m not drunk!” he insists.

“Sure, and I’m the fucking President of the United States.” I snort, rolling my eyes. “You suck, Peyton. Now instead of taking Len to my and Chan’s room and showing her the Eiffel Tower, we need to stay here and babysit your ass so you don’t choke on your own vomit. You deserve to be left here to wallow in your own stupidity for getting wasted the night before one of the most important jumps of our careers.”

“But we can’t leave him here by himself,” Lenley says worriedly, brushing Peyton’s hair away from his forehead.

An evil glint appears on Channing’s face. “Maybe not.”

I’m not in the mood for Channing’s pranks. “What do you propose we do?”

His smile widens. “If I recall correctly, I was punished for blowing off work and taking Len to the movies not long ago. Remember? It was your idea, J. You forced me to watch while you got blow jobs, and I wasn’t allowed to get any action or even fucking take care of myself. I think Peyton deserves the same treatment for being an irresponsible asshole when there’s so much at stake.”

Holy shit. Sometimes Channing surprises me. “That should teach our team captain a good lesson.” I chuckle. “What do you say, asshole? Chan and I are going to show Lenley what Paris is all about while you get to watch, and if I see you even try to take your cock out, I’ll personally throw you off that tower tomorrow morning.”

“You guys are so harsh.” Lenley shakes her head, wearing a half smile on her soft, red lips as she’s unable to hide her amusement. “Oh. He’s asleep.” She skims her hand down his jaw in a soft caress while the dipshit begins snoring softly.

I meet Channing’s gaze, and he nods. “It doesn’t matter, princess. We can do what we were planning right here, and he can watch and be punished if he wakes up. If he doesn’t, at least he doesn’t get to ruin our night.”

Lenley nods after considering my words. “Okay. So what are you two planning? You keep mentioning the Eiffel Tower. Are you going to fuck me in front of the window while we enjoy the view?”

Ah, sweet, innocent Lenley.

She might have learned a lot about sex since she started hanging out with me and my teammates, but she’s still so sweet, I want to fucking eat her.

I understand why Peyton keeps calling her Snow. It’s not in a mean way, like Penn did the night we met her for the first time, but because she’s still pristine in so many ways. Corrupting her is fun, especially because it isn’t changing her fundamental sweetness.

“We weren’t talking about the view, princess,” I offer, grinning at the curiosity in her big green eyes.

“No?” she asks, tilting her head in the cutest way. I’m definitely going to fucking eat her.

“No, baby.” Channing takes her delicate hand in his much bigger one, pulling her closer. “We’re the Eiffel Tower. It’s a sex position.”

Her eyes widen, and I shit you not, she blushes. “Oh?”

---