Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“You do you,” Shawn says. “Have at me, baby.”
I laugh and take the hem of the red shirt he put on what feels like a minute ago and tug it up and over his head. He gets slightly tangled, but I’m not worried about that. I gape at his perfect body stretched out in front of me, trying to commit it all to memory.
Shawn Drayton exudes athleticism, his broad chest is defined with strong, lean muscle, the kind sculpted from years of intense hockey training and the swimming he loves so much. His skin still carries a little of his summer tan, highlighting the ridges of his taut abs, leading down to a sharp V-line that makes my brain stutter. His golden blond hair, slightly tousled, falls across his forehead as he dips his head to look at me, accentuating the boyish charm that contrasts with his rugged physique. His arms, muscular and veined, flex subtly even at rest, and a faint scar on his left shoulder tells a story of battles fought and won on the rink. My mouth is dry as I take him in, and I’m finally allowed to look at my fill without repercussions.
He’s perfect.
I can touch him, I think. I can run my fingers over all that taut muscle and revel in his power and perfection. For now, at least, he’s mine.
His skin is hot and warm beneath my fingertips, so perfectly smooth that I seem to swim with dizziness. I’m touching his skin. His bare skin.
Shawn shudders, his body drawing so taut that more muscles rise to the surface.
“Now you,” I say to Hayes, swallowing thickly. His shirt is a little snugger, and it takes more effort for me to remove it, but he’s worth all of it and more. Jesus. He’s broader and bulkier than his brother, exuding raw strength. His wide shoulders, powerful chest, and solid arms make me think of reliability, safety, and how it felt when he defended me. Standing next to Shawn, the differences between them are more obvious, and I’m breathless as my pulse quickens, swooning a little with the total overstimulation of all my lust sensors.
Turning, I find Jacob waiting for me to do the same to him, and that surprises me. He’s never struck me as a man with patience or who will submit to anyone else’s will. Yet, here he is, playing along with my game.
Shifting onto my knees, I grasp the hem of his sweater and tug it upward, the fabric slipping over his head to reveal the body beneath. My breath catches as Jacob’s serpent tattoos emerge, black ink coiling sinuously around his arms and wrists, onto his chest, and over his shoulders, the intricate detail almost hypnotic. They twist and writhe as though alive, each serpent a work of art—more than a little intimidating. Without thinking, my finger traces the path of one snake, its inky scales seeming to ripple under my touch. Jacob shivers, a sharp, barely audible breath escaping him, and the way his body reacts sends a pulse of electricity through me, equal parts fascination and heat. I didn’t know that beauty, rugged and untamed like theirs, could catch at my heart like claws.
Hayes’ lips kiss my shoulder, his hand coming around to squeeze my breast, suddenly impatient.
“Take it off,” Jacob orders him, and with careful fingers, he does, releasing the snap of my bra and allowing my breasts to spill out. Maybe Jacob’s never seen breasts the size of mine, or maybe he just really likes breasts because his expression is one of desperate thirst, but he holds himself in control, slowly brushing his knuckles over my soft flesh until they bump, one by one, over my nipple. Everyone in the room watches it tighten, and Shawn groans, his hand coming around from behind to cup my breast from beneath, holding it for his brother. And when Jacob’s hot mouth draws my nipple into tight, hard pulls, I throw my head back and dwell alone in the darkness of my arousal. I didn’t know it was possible for my body to feel like this, wound tight with desire but at the same time, weightless with anticipation.
Hayes takes the other breast, kneading it and twisting the nipple, and my pleasure magnifies until I’m squirming against the seam of my jeans, needing stimulation. Then Jacob presses the heel of his hand between my thighs, and I moan.
“She needs more,” he says. “So much more.”
“I do,” I gasp. “Please.”
Fingers flick at the button and zipper, then Shawn and Hayes peel my jeans over my hips as I wriggle to push them down. Three sets of identical blue eyes focus between my legs, and I realize why too late. I’m wearing my cupcake panties, the ones covered with little cherry-topped treats, pink ribbons fastening the sides, and ‘Ice my Cake’ emblazoned across the front. I sell them as merch on my website, which links to my secret hockey-baking channel.