Page 78 of Puck Yes

I keep working the vibrator. “I do.”

“Bet she’d like the real thing more,” Stefan says, coming up beside me, stroking my hair, pushing it to one side of my face as he runs a thumb along my top lip.

I quiver as I ease out the toy, turning it off and tossing it on the bed. “Please fuck me.”

They don’t take off their clothes. They just take out their cocks.

Hayes covers himself, then notches the head against me as Stefan gets on the bed and kneels, shoving down his boxer briefs, offering me his thick cock. “That lipstick? Get it all over my dick, sweetheart,” Stefan urges.

I lick the head of his cock right as Hayes bands an arm around my waist, then takes me with punishing thrusts.

I feel helpless to the lust. Bombarded by too many sensations. My brain flatlines and I’m no longer thinking about my life, my career, where I’m going, what I’m chasing, and all the things I’ve yet to work out.

I’m not thinking at all.

This overdose of pleasure blasts through my body and mind. As Hayes works his fingers against my clit, I’m hostage to the exquisite torture of this new brand of sex where I can’t speak. Where I can’t think. Where I can only feel.

The insistent pulse, the intensifying build, then the brilliant explosion as I break apart.

It’s not until later in bed that I think again.This is going better than well.

31

PICTURE THAT

Ivy

In my right hand, I hold up a high-neck, sleeveless halter top in a red sheen fabric. In my left is a flowy V-neck cheetah-print blouse. Both are from thrift shops. “Which one for the meeting with Simone?”

Stefan slices a banana at the kitchen counter and studies both options, then nods to the ruby-red one. “Very stylish,” he says, then grimaces. “I think? Is that the right answer?”

I laugh from the other side of the bench. “You’re the one who wanted to see what I was going to wear.”

“When I saidgive me a fashion show,I thought I’d get to see you changing,” he says, a teasing spark in his eyes.

“Pervert,” I mutter.

From the tiled kitchen floor, Roxy seconds me with a bark before she returns to watching Stefan, with please-drop-a-slice-of-banana dreams in her doggy eyes. Stefan is wearing lounge pants and nothing else. I’m staring at him, too, but withdo mein my eyes.

Hayes, naturally, is sleeping. He does not get up early. Which works for me because Stefan’s become my morning companion. He’s an early riser too.

“I like to think of myself more as an aficionado,” Stefan says, switching to slice up some kale leaves, then adds, “of you.”

This man. I swear he’s some kind of feel-good elixir. It’s Monday morning, and we’re at Hayes’s apartment. The guys fly to Detroit tomorrow, then to Chicago. By now, their teammates know Hayes and Ieloped. That’s what we told them, which is all anyone needs to know.

I’m meeting Simone later this morning to discuss wedding coverage, and when I told Stefan I’d wear something that made me look badass, he asked to see it, so I ran downstairs to my place to grab some options.

I set both shirts down on the stool, then adjust my little dress, a cover-up kind of thing. “For what it’s worth, I like the red one too. It makes me feel…strong.”

“You are strong. So it sounds perfect,” he says, then holds my gaze for a beat as he drops bananas and kale into the blender. “Which means it’ll make you feel great when you have to deal with an uncomfortable meeting.”

I’ve been dreading today, and I told both men as much last night. “Thank you. I’ll shower in a bit and then get dressed. Maybe I’ll let you see it then.”

“I’ll finally get my fashion show,” he says.

“If you’re a good boy,” I tease. My phone buzzes on the counter, and I grab it. Oh! It’s another email from Birdie. She already told me she loved my first piece when I turned it in a few days ago. “Your Runwaywants another piece. This one is on secondhand fashion.”

“That’s your thing,” he says.

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