Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Beckett marches toward a shadowy corridor without a backward look. My gaze shifts from his retreating back to the line of hunched-over players on the bench. Will is taking a seat beside Ryder. I stare at the back of his jersey.
It reads Larsen.
Lars.
How did I not put this together?
Or maybe there isn’t anything to put together. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Maybe—
Lars and B! my brain shouts at me. Larsen and Beckett.
The names line up. The abs line up.
Those tight, rippled abs…
A groan of distress rises in my throat. Is it possible that I’ve been chatting with two Briar hockey players?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHARLOTTE
The heart of the Method
IT’S MIDNIGHT, AND I CAN’T SLEEP. NOT A WINK. NOT A SINGLE STUPID solitary wink. My mind is racing too hard. It’s been spinning like a top since I left the hockey arena earlier.
I can’t get the idea out of my head that I might be sexting with my lab partner and my annoying classmate who calls me sugar puff.
The moment I got home tonight, I reread our chats, searching for any clues that Lars and B are Will Larsen and Beckett Dunne. All it achieved was coming up empty-handed in the identity department and becoming extremely horny from the content of our chats.
Like the fantasy I confessed to Lars a few nights ago, when I revealed that while I’ve had sex inside a car, I’ve never done it on a car.
My cheeks grow warm as I read the exchange.
LARS:
Is that it, baby? You want to lie back on the hood of the car, legs spread wide while we take turns fucking you?
My thighs clench as I envision the dirty picture he painted. Except now the fantasy morphs. Instead of the vague, nondescript Viking faces I’ve conjured in my mind, the guy stepping in the cradle of my thighs is my lab partner, Will.
He runs his hands over my thighs, and I realize that if it really is Will, then I already know what his hands look like. Long, capable fingers. Short, blunt nails. He scrapes those familiar palms over my thighs as he stands there with his hard cock jutting out, a pearly drop pooled at the tip.
A moan slips out, and I cast a self-conscious glance at my bedroom door. I hate living in a house where ten other girls on the floor can hear every sigh and whimper that wafts out of my room. I’d much rather live in the dorms with a roommate. At least then I’d only have to be embarrassed about one person hearing me get myself off.
Which is precisely what I’m going to do right now, because the idea that I’ve been exchanging sexy messages with the two hockey players I watched tonight, one of whom tried to pound another guy’s face into the ice like some wild animal…
Another moan is ripped from my throat.
Oh God, since when does the idea of violence turn me on? It shouldn’t be getting me this hot. And I shouldn’t be modifying my fantasy, turning up the heat. Will Larsen is still between my legs, but Beckett Dunne is at his side now, squeezing my breast, leaning down to kiss me while his friend gets ready to fuck me.
I bite my lip as I picture Beckett’s teasing smirk. Will’s gleaming eyes.
A warm shiver races through my body. My eyelids close before I can stop them. My hand slips inside my pajama shorts, beneath the waistband of my panties.
I imagine Will’s hands on my waist as he pushes his cock inside me. I hear Beckett’s drawl, soft and commanding in my ear, telling me how much he wants me. How he can’t wait for his turn.
The heat between my legs intensifies as I rub slow, deliberate circles over my clit. I can practically feel the hood of the car, the cold metal against my back as Will presses into me. I feel his body against mine. His entire length filling me. I feel Beckett’s thumb on my nipple, his lips tracing my collarbone.
I swallow my gasp, my hips rocking up to meet my own touch.
There’s no stopping this. A swirl of X-rated images assaults my brain, but it’s the thought of being with both of them at once that sends me over the edge. My body tenses, waves of pleasure crashing through me as I hear Beckett whispering my name, Will groaning that he’s coming too. The orgasm is exquisite. It tingles in my fingertips and toes, sparks dancing all over my flesh and throbbing between my legs.
Oh.
My.
Fucking God.
It takes me a few minutes to catch my breath. Fine, I think, when my heart rate finally slows. Maybe the notion that my sexy Swedes are Will and Beckett isn’t entirely unappealing.
Question is, is it a fantasy that should stay virtual, or should I act on this insanity and meet them for a threesome?