Page 26 of Double Pucked

SECRET UP MY SLEEVES

Trina

When the door shuts to Chase’s spacious home on a picturesque block of California Street, I don’t know what to expect from this night with them. And that thrills me. I’m on edge, my cells crackling with electricity.

Quickly, shoes vanish, socks disappear, and we all drop jackets on a chair by the door. Chase guides me through the wide open living room, with floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over San Francisco.

Sex with a view. Yes, please.

But is that on the menu? Are they starting on the couch? What will they do to me there? My pulse soars in excitement.

“Put her up against the wall. Kiss her neck. Take off those jeans. I’ll play some tunes,” Chase says carelessly to Ryker.

I shudder. The way Chase has it all mapped out, and tosses his directions so casually half makes me wonder if he’s done this before. But mostly I don’t care if he has. All I care about now is them and me.

Those ten minutes in the limo were the hottest of my life. I can’t imagine—truly I can’t—how it could get better.

But I think it will and I am here for it.

The lights are low, shadowing exposed brick walls. “Take off your glasses. Get your hands against the wall,” Ryker tells me.

I slide off my red frames and put them on a table. I can see well enough without them. When I glance at him, I can tell his blue eyes radiate dirty deeds. I want what he has to give so I spin around, following his orders.

Advancing closer, he crowds me against the brick wall. Clasping my wrists, he slides my arms up along the brick, kissing my neck as he pins me effortlessly.

I’m at his mercy, and he wraps one strong hand around both my wrists. Do I have a kink for being bound?

Girl, you’re about to be screwed senseless by two men. You have more kinks than you ever knew.

And I want these hockey stars to unlock them all for me.

Dropping my head, I savor every second of bliss. “Mmm,” I murmur as Ryker lays kiss after hungry kiss on the back of my neck.

Music starts from somewhere, a low pulsing bass as Ryker gets down on his knees, reaches his big hands around me and unbuttons, then peels down my jeans.

My heart climbs into my throat. He taps my right ankle. I lift it, and he removes the jeans from one leg, then the other one.

I’m wearing only Chase’s jersey and a pair of sky-blue boy shorts with daisy flowers on them—undies that are one hundred percent useless now.

They’re soaked.

Feet pad across the wood floor as Ryker rises, roaming a big hand over the fabric covering one cheek. Then the other.

“What do you think of her ass? Fucking perfect for smacking, right?” Chase asks, like he’s appraising me. Gone is the sweet, charming guy with the congenial smile for the press.

After dark, he’s all alpha, in command of me and, also, his friend. That surprises me. I’d have expected the broody, grumpy guy to want to call the shots. But Ryker seems content to let Chase play conductor. Maybe that’s their thing? Is this how they run their three-ways?

Nope. Stop. Doesn’t matter if they’re threesome pros. In fact, it’s probably better if they are.

I home in on the moment, on my body.

Ryker squeezes my flesh, then says to his friend, “Pretty sure you’ll love smacking this ass. But best I take these off first.”

The way they talk about me makes me feel like their naughty plaything. And their tone—almost like I’m not here—makes heat flare in my belly.

“Good idea,” Chase says, his voice louder now. He’s a foot away, and when he reaches me, he sweeps my hair off the back of my neck and kisses me there—an open-mouthed caress while Ryker peels off my panties. I step out of them, and I’m half-naked but all exposed.

Ryker grabs one cheek, manhandling me roughly, and Chase the other, gripping firmly. Their bodies flank me on either side. “Bet you’re aching between your thighs,” Chase says, almost like a taunt, like he savors holding my pleasure in the palm of his hand. He kisses my earlobe, flicking his tongue along it. “Are you, baby? All hot and greedy?”

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