Page 53 of Her Hat Trick Daddies
The captain might be acting like he’s taking his time with Leighton on purpose, but I’m not about to sit back and wait my turn. He might outrank me on the ice, but this? This isn’t about hockey. This is about her. About the way she’s here, choosing this, choosingus.
Choosingme.
And she’s wearing my bracelet. That alone is enough to get me hard like a steel rod fresh off the forge.
I reach for her hand, brushing my thumb along the cool curve of the sapphire, then lace our fingers together and lead her upstairs toward one of the three master suites’ bathrooms. My eyes are locked on the sexy sway of her hips as she walks. She’s a walking wet dream, is what she is. And even though I’ve had her, it’s still not enough. Not even close.
The plush carpet cushions our steps, and when we reach the threshold, I step in front of her, grinning down. “You ready for your surprise?”
She quirks a brow. “Umm. You mean the shower?”
“Darlin’,” I chuckle. “This isn’t just any shower.”
I flip the light switch on, and just like that, her jaw drops.
The room is pure indulgence. Huge his-and-hers sinks anchor opposite ends, flanked by walk-in closets, with a sleek waterfall statue spilling between them. A towel warmer gleams from the center island, as casually placed as if it’s standard.
The shower is a cathedral of steam and tile, an opulent paradise disguised as a stall. Waterfall heads cascade from the ceiling like something out of a five-star resort, while dozens of adjustable body jets line the walls, calibrated to hit every curve and muscle. Twin benches stretch along both sides, their smooth surfaces already misted with warmth, each wide enough to fit two or three bodies. And beyond the glass? A sunken tub, big enough for four, its edges rimmed with flickering waterproof candles that throw soft light across the marble.
Stainless steel bars are mounted above, horizontal and sturdy, perfect for balance or restraint. More are fixed to the sides, seamlessly integrated into the tile, as if they were meant to be there. And tucked discreetly into a sleek corner nook? A dark tray stocked with toys: a velvet bag of vibrators, small bottles of heated massage oil, two pairs of silver cuffs glinting under the mist, and knee pads. A suction-mounted dildo rests beside a flogger, its tails coiled like a serpent. Above the benches, a collection of silk ties hangs from a heated rack—dry despite the steam, ready to bind ankles or blindfold eyes.
It doesn’t just look like a spa. It looks like something naughty carved into marble and chrome—built for pleasure, built for play.
“This is…” she murmurs, stepping inside as the mist curls around her skin, “unbelievable.”
I turn on the music, smooth jazz spilling softly through the speakers, then twist the knobs, letting the overhead shower cascade down in a steady rush. I control the jet sprays with one hand, checking the temperature with the other, adjusting until it’s perfect.
Slowly, deliberately, I work the body wash into her skin, my hands gliding over every curve. She laughs, a light, pure sound, when I tease under her arms, the sound bubbling up sweet and uninhibited. Then she splashes water on me, playful and carefree, her innocence catching me completely off guard. I wasn’t prepared for this kind of intimacy to hit me so damn hard. But here it is, real, disarming. And I feel it in every fucking beat of my heart.
I rinse her off with the handheld, water streaming down her body, then guide her up onto the bench. “You trust me, right?”
A pause. Then a nod. “I do.”
I show her the overhead grip bars. “Just hold on, that’s all I ask.”
And she does.
“Good girl. Now spread your legs for me.” I step in close, push her thighs open, and bury my face between them.
A choked sound escapes her throat, caught somewhere between surprise and need. And again when I spread her plump, perfect ass, teasing her rim with a slow lick. Her rim twitches with every swipe of my tongue. Lazy circles turn to ruthless laps that grow more purposeful with each pass. I curl my tongue and push deeper, tasting every twitch, every shiver she can’t control.
“Uhn… why does that feel so g—uhh,” she keens softly.
“You’re doing so well.”
While I take my time with her rim, I suddenly sink two fingers deep into her soaked cunt—fucking up into her hard—then pull out and rub her clit with just enough pressure to send her spiraling into an orgasm. Her body judders with the effort, clinging to the bars above her head like they’re the only thing keeping her grounded. When I finally ease her down, I kiss her belly and let her catch her breath.
Shane steps inside, striding into the steam like he owns the damn place, and maybe he does, at least when it comes to Leighton. The way she looks at him, the way her lips part with anticipation… yeah, she’s ready for him, too.
Without a word, he steps behind her, palms her ass, and brings his mouth to her ear. “Tell me you’re ready for more.” His voice is deep, cutting through the jazz.
She nods, dazed.
“Say it,” he demands, slapping her ass once, hard, making her jolt.
“Give me more,” she whimpers.
“Good,” he growls. “Because I’m going to take you somewhere new. Do you trust me?”
