Page 2 of Triple Pucked
I shift around, as sharp twigs dig into my soles. Sun warms my bare back. Then I hurriedly glance around to check that we are still alone. I take a deep breath of the fresh, pine scented air.
My cheeks flush. My heart beats faster.
Is there movement behind that tree?
I wrap my arm over my breasts, even though my pussy becomes wetter.
There’s no one there, only shadows.
Shay is perched on a log next to me. He’s vibrating with energy, bouncing his leg.
The sun that dapples through the canopy lights Shay’s ice-white skin. He is impossibly pretty for a hockey player with sharp cheekbones and winter gray eyes.
Shay is six foot, which means that he’s shorter than most hockey players. His nails are painted metallic gray. He is also naked apart from a pair of Bay Rebels official socks.
Can I vote at the next board meeting for nothing but a pair of socks to be the new hockey uniform?
Of course, he is also wearing the ring in the puck design that I gave to him. I gifted a matching ring to his twin and D’Angelo because I was keen to show them how serious my commitment was.
When Shay enthusiastically removed his pants as the first item to use as a stake, D’Angelo sighed but fondly.
It’s harder to keep Shay in clothes than to take him out of them.
His thigh is warm against mine.
Throughout the game, he has brushed his fingers down the back of my arm, as if to stroke away the goosebumps.
It’s his tell.
He doesn’t need one, however, because he’s as easy to read as a golden retriever book.
He has no poker face. But then, his twin pretty muchonlyhas a poker face.
“I’m winning your last two items.” Shay taps his sock, wiggling his toes. “I’m raising my last sock. I scored the winning goal in every game last week. Our team has been on bloody fire all month. I’m the top scorer. So, I can win at poker too, right?”
I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
Maybe it should be a rule that war negotiations should take place with the two sides being naked apart from socks?
Shay is the star player of the Bay Rebels hockey team where I am the PR Director. He is also one of the reasons that I have spent the entire season fighting one PR crisis after another.
Despite that, he is the sunshine in my life. And he is sitting opposite the team’s grumpy but dominantly gorgeous Captain…who is the other reason for those PR disasters.
Jude D’Angelo.
“For an astrophysicist,” D’Angelo drawls, “you’re finding the concept of apoker facehard to grasp, cucciolo.”
D’Angelo hasn’t lost a single item of clothing in the game.
Smug asshole.
He is sprawled on a mossy log that is facing Shay and me.
I should have known just how good at poker D’Angelo would be when he truly had something that he craved. He plays pokerwith an intense competitiveness at least once a week with the twins, as well as Michael, who is married to my brother, Cody.
Today, D’Angelo appears relaxed, lounging like Lucifer on a throne.
Despite appearing bored, he is casually destroying all three of us.
