Page 28 of Her Hat Trick Daddies
He sounds possessive, primal, like his name alone is a brand he’s burning into me.
“Harder, David,” I breathe.
He snarls low in his throat, slaps my ass again, and hooks one of my legs up onto the desk, forcing me open for him. Hethrusts deeper, his cock slamming into that perfect spot again and again, pushing me closer, pulling desperate cries from my throat. I gasp, gripping the edge of the desk as I clench around him, the sudden pressure igniting fireworks behind my eyes.
“Come for me again,” he demands. “Let me feel it. Let me haveallof you.”
I fall apart with a scream, my entire body shaking, gushing around him as he grits out a curse and finally lets go. He pulls out fast, stroking once, twice—then thick, hot streams paint across my calves, my ankles, my heels, his moans broken and raw like I just ruined him from the inside out.
He stares down at the mess, watching it drip along my skin with a savage kind of pride. “Fuck… look what you do to me.”
The moment lingers—
Until my phone blares, slicing through the sex-heavy air like a buzz saw.
Cursing under my breath, I rush to the chair where my purse is and dig through it. By the time I find my phone, Wilson’s call is seconds from going to voicemail.
“Wilson!” I chirp, trying to sound halfway normal.
“I’m here. Where are you? We were supposed to prep some observations for the next game.”
Right. Work.
“Running a little behind,” I manage, catching sight of the glistening cum painting my skin. “Be right there.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
David’s phone buzzes next, cutting through the last thread of stolen time between us.
I don’t know how the hell to feel about what just happened. My body’s wrecked, my head’s spinning, and my heart is hammering out of my chest.
But one thing’s absolutely crystal fucking clear. David Decker is Lion.
And now? I need to find out if the men I know as Jester and Wolf are here, too.
Chapter 8
Shane
David’s not himself during our weekly huddle in front of the television. Coach Henley points out the usual weaknesses that each player needs to work on individually and as a team. Pre-season’s over, and we’re stepping into the real deal. That means focus. That means showing up.
So, when Coach mentions an issue and David gives theexact sameanswer he gave a minute ago, I wince.
“Should’ve deked left, then slammed toward the right end of the net,” he grumbles. Word for word.
Coach and I lock eyes. Then Coach glances at Penny, our assistant coach, who gives him a subtlelook. Finally, he flicks a glance toward our team captain and away again before saying, “How about we break for lunch?”
It’s 11:30 AM. Early. But clearly, I need to check on my buddy.
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I could eat.”
“Who wants a cheesesteak?”
The voices filter over to where David and I sit in the front row. He’s not reacting. Just staring at the chair next to him like it holds the secrets of the universe.
“Earth to David… come in, David,” I say, doing my best impression of Marvin the Martian.
