Page 90 of Double Pucked

And then it’s me calling out their names. Begging for release. A deep thrust from under me, another from over me, and I lose my mind to the most intense moment of my life, tipping over into pleasure, nothing but pleasure, as I shatter between them.

I don’t know who comes next. I only know my head and my heart are filled with their groans and their grunts and their need for me too.

* * *

A little later, I’m sore and exhausted but still floaty. Ryker cleans me up in the shower, washing me under the hot stream and the dim lights.

When I get out, he wraps a towel around me as Chase runs a bath then drops in a bath bomb.

Strawberry. They must have bought it for me.

“I haven’t had a bath in ages,” I say, my voice hoarse.

“Relax, baby,” Chase says, then takes the towel as I step into the hot, bubbly water.

I sink down, then turn to look at Ryker. He’s wearing sweats; Chase is in shorts.

“Stay with me,” I say.

“I’m not leaving you,” Ryker answers.

“We’re right here,” Chase adds.

One man kneels at the end of the tub, the other sits on the floor by the top, and I am their queen.

33

HOW DO YOU DO

Trina

The pine scent of the forest twists around the smell of the ocean breeze as I adjust Chase’s sage-green tie on Sunday afternoon, knotting it nice and snug at the collar of his dark blue shirt. We’re in the living room, getting ready to leave with Nacho watching from the couch, head cocked.

“Don’t ever stop wearing suits. They definitely hooked me the first night I met you,” I say, feeling kind of fizzy for them, like I have been all day.

“And I thought it was my charming personality,” Ryker deadpans as he finishes looping a knot in the burgundy tie he’s wearing. I swat away his hands, taking over.

“I was pretty sure Chase was just a cocky playboy,” I continue, reminiscing.

Chase scoffs. “Yeah, not quite.”

“More like you’re married to hockey,” I add, tossing him a hopeful glance.

He says nothing—just gives me a smile that’s full of longing.

Maybe he’s letting go of some of that all-or-nothing mentality? Or maybe that’s wishful thinking.

When I finish Ryker’s tie, I set a hand on his strong chest, remembering the first time I did it, when I explored the scar and his ink, then I place my other hand on Chase’s shirt, picturing his scratches and cuts.

My two men, with their big bodies they push to the limits to provide for their families. And their bigger hearts.

Everything about this moment just feels so right. Me doing the finishing touches for their outfits. Me enjoying the scent of both of them.

Usgetting ready to leave as one.

All day long, I’ve been borderline sad, thinking about tomorrow and the end of the most unexpected and wonderful week of my life.

Thinking that it’s ending like any vacation inevitably does.

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