Page 46 of The Hat Trick

“I did. I want…” I bite my lip, stopping the next words from leaving because it sounds stupid to say out loud. This is a fantasy, something casual and fun for who knows how long.

Brent squeezes my hand in his. “What do you want?”

I swallow roughly before answering. “All three of you.”

He turns his head and gives me a crooked smile. “You have us.”

* * *

We pullup to Brent’s house, and I’m a little surprised that Vince parks his black Mercedes in the driveway only a few moments after we got here. He flashes me his panty dropping smile – not that I’m wearing any – and makes his way to me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“I’ve been dying to touch you all fucking night, baby,” he practically groans in my ear before nipping at my neck.

The fear I had that he was mad melts at the way he touches me, it’s desperate and needy, and I want more of it. And yet I can’t help when the words escape, “You’re not mad at me, then?”

He shakes his head against my neck. “I’m only mad that McQuaid got to fuck you in this dress before I did,” he growls before sinking his teeth into the juncture where my neck meets my shoulder.

I moan, “I’ll make it up to you.”

He pulls back, a smirk on his face, blue eyes lighting with mischief. “I know you will.”

Another car pulls up, and I’m not even surprised by the flashy blacked out Maserati being what Matt McQuaid drives. He strolls up the driveway without a care in the world, staring at me with fire in those eyes. He watches how Vince’s hand tightens on my waist as he approaches. I like to hope he isn’t jealous, and he is okay with this, but right now I’m not entirely sure.

“You ready for round two already, bunny?” He winks at me, and I scowl. I’m a fucking idiot for giving in to him so easily, but goddammit, he’s too hot for his own good.

“Inside,” Brent commands, and we all follow because he leaves no room for argument.

And if anyone really didn’t want this, they would just leave.

Once we are inside, Brent folds his large body in one of the armchairs in the living room, crossing one ankle over his other knee looking powerful, in charge, and hot as fuck while he sits there. Eyes locked on me.

“Boys, have a seat,” he says, his eyes not leaving mine.

I hear Matt grumble something about him not being the boss, but listens anyway. Vince sits on the couch, and Matt takes the other armchair across from Brent.

“On your knees, beautiful,” Brent says to me, and I’m almost ashamed at how fast I drop down onto the rug covered floor. “Come here.”

I place my hands down on the soft carpet, and slowly crawl the short distance to Brent until I’m kneeling right in front of him. He reaches out, running his thumb along my lips, pulling the bottom one down slightly. I peek my tongue out to lick his finger, and he pulls it away.

“Did you let McQuaid touch you?" he asks, running his thumb down my cheek.

I nod.

“Use your words.”

“Yes.”

“Did he fuck you?” He swipes my hair from my face and pushes it back behind my ear.

“Yes.”

“How many times did he make you come?”

I debate lying, and saying none, but with the way Brent asks these questions it has me desperate to tell the truth.

“Once.”

I hear a scoff, and look over to see Vince smirking. “That’s it? Weak, McQuaid.”

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