Trick Shot: A Spicy Christmas Novella (Brother Puckers Book 1)
Trick Shot: Chapter 16

I wake up feeling warm. Very warm. My eyes adjust to the dim light of dawn creeping through the bedroom windows, and suddenly the urge to pee becomes overwhelming. When I try to get up, I replace I can’t. My vision finally focuses to Jace’s tattooed arm draped across my middle with Lucas’s ankle hooked over mine.

Now I know why I’m so warm. As I test out to see if I can move without waking them, I stifle a groan of pain. My body is wrecked, but in the best way possible. A blush creeps up my cheeks as last night’s activities flood back into the forefront of my mind. It’s then I realize I don’t remember at all what happened after I came for at least the fourth time last night. But I don’t feel crusty, which means I had to have been cleaned? Or I just don’t remember cleaning myself.

A pink flush covers the rest of my body at the idea of these sexy ass men cleaning me while I was out of it. It’s also super sweet and over the top, which aligns with their personalities. My bladder protests again, advising me to get out of bed before I pee myself. I take a deep breath, then gently start to move my ankle out from under Lucas. He doesn’t stir at all, then I move on to Jace’s arm. It’s a bit more difficult to maneuver, but I grab a loose pillow and start to shimmy out as gently as I can. He moves a bit, mumbling something about Santa’s cookies before falling asleep again.

I smile to myself at his cuteness. Such a difference from the domineering man last night who called me a slut and had me deep throat cock. My pussy gets wet just thinking about it, and I have the urge to scold it. I’m way too sore and I need to see if I can get on a flight home this morning or I’ll miss Christmas with my family altogether.

Once I’m free from the bed, I stare down at my naked body. I have a few fingerprint bruises on my thighs forming, and I’m sure I’ll replace hickeys on several body parts. But I kind of like it. They marked and owned me. It was the hottest fucking night of my life. I realize my clothes are in the guest room, so I grab a black long-sleeved shirt from a nearby dresser and slip on a pair of giant slippers that I replace. Thankfully, the shirt must be Jace’s, so I’m able to throw it over my head before seeking out a bathroom. I could go into the master bath, but I don’t want to wake the boys. So I make my way through the cold penthouse until I replace one closer to the kitchen.

After I relieve myself and wash my hands, I get a good look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a rat’s nest, and I can see a bit of mascara still on my lashes, but the guys must have cleaned any evidence of the racoon eyes I’m sure I had. There’s also a nice hickey on my breast and a bite mark on my ass. I would have thought it would still be red, but there’s no evidence of handprints there to tell that story.

But more than the marks, I can’t help but be taken with how different I look. It’s almost like the pounding they gave me added several years onto my life. My eyes are brighter, my skin is practically glowing, and I feel relaxed. More relaxed than I have been in years. I run my hands over the rolls and curves of my body, loving the way they feel beneath my palms. Chad had beaten me down the last couple years, but this morning, it’s like he doesn’t even exist. I feel like a queen. A queen who was worshiped by two of the hottest men I’ve ever seen.

My nipples pebble, and my skin tightens with desire as I think of them lying in bed together. I wonder if we can sneak another round in before we leave. My throbbing pussy disagrees with that idea. Okay, a round of oral. I bet they wouldn’t mind one bit if they woke up with my lips and hands on their delicious cocks. I know this was supposed to be a one-night thing, but this morning is okay, right? My stomach flops, and now I don’t want this to be just some random night with an airport stranger and his “best friend.” I can’t help but feel like last night was more than that.

My good mood dissipates as I second-guess what I do or do not mean to the men in the other room. It’s silly of me to think this could be more than just a fuck. They said themselves that they don’t do commitment, and if they can’t even say they’re really together even though they love each other, how in the hell would the three of us be in a relationship? I mean, I don’t even know how that would work. Could I even be in a poly relationship with two men who care that deeply for one another?

I grip the sink and take a breath to calm my spiraling, as silly as it is. People have one-night stands and kinky sex all the time. Sigh. I just can’t help but think last night was meant to happen. The deep-seated gut feeling that those men were meant to come into my life. It wasn’t just the sex that I enjoyed, it was them. The way they were together, the way they took care of me even after sex, the way they fed me dinner and made sure I was comfortable every step of the way. I mean, I guess they would do that for all their partners, but I was the first they didn’t use a condom with…

Am I stupid for thinking that means something?

This is why I never was good at one-night stands. I’m a relationship girl. I get attached and hyperfixate, which is exactly what is happening now. I splash some cool water on my face and take another few deep breaths before I decide it’s time to replace my phone and get my flights sorted. In the light of day, real life has hit me, and I have to be realistic about what happens from here on out.

I exit the bathroom, glad to replace the penthouse still quiet. Eventually, I replace my phone on the kitchen island, charging. Tears sting my eyes at yet another thoughtful thing the guys did for me while I was passed out. There are a few text messages from my mom and sister that came in last night. It’s just after six in the morning here, which means it’s only three in Seattle. They’ll be sleeping for at least another four hours. I tap open the one from Mom, and it’s just a reminder to let her know what happens with my flights as soon as I hear something. When I read the ones from Stevie, I shake my head.

Stevie is going to freak when I tell her where I spent Christmas. Which reminds me. Lucas and I were going to be on the same flight, so maybe we’ll at least have the flight home if we can get there. Though he’ll probably be in first class.

I swallow the lump of sadness down and click to my airline app. Looks like I can get on a flight later this afternoon. Which, considering how much snow we had, I’m kind of surprised. But also happy I’ll get to dish with Stevie and have a girls’ night.

After getting my flight settled, I shoot a text to Mom to let her know that if all goes well, I’ll be home for a late dinner or at least dessert. She doesn’t answer, but she’ll get it as soon as she wakes up, and that’s all that matters. I place my phone back on the counter and rub my palms together to warm them up. I guess I’ll have a bit of time to kill while they clear the roads. Despite all my fears, I’m glad I get to live out this fantasy a little longer.

With that in mind, I start looking through the cupboards to see what kind of breakfast supplies they have so I can surprise them with a Christmas morning breakfast. After rummaging around for a bit, I manage to replace all the ingredients to make pancakes and eggs. I also spot a coffee machine that looks easy enough to use, thank goodness. I was worried he’d have a full Italian coffee bar and I’d have to wait for them to wake up to get my morning fix.

I flip on the machine and replace a light for the kitchen. While I wait for my coffee to brew, I take in my surroundings a bit more. Lucas’s penthouse looks different in the light of day, especially without the fireplace and the Christmas lights on. Before I start cooking, I decide to check out the view of the snowy city in the morning light.

As I make my way toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, I take in my surroundings. The colors are like his bedroom, muted blues and blacks with white accents. On the walls, there are some pictures. When I get closer, I see they’re various events in his life. First, a picture of him and his twin brother Leo when they were a bit younger. Both are in hockey gear and smiling ear-to-ear. It’s kind of scary how identical they are. Exact carbon copies, almost. Though I know right away which one Lucas is because I spent all last night looking into his eyes. He has a certain depth to them that his brother lacks, like he’s an old soul—I don’t know how to explain it.

The next few are pictures of his family on various trips and holidays. When I get to the end of the wall, I notice an award for Best Talent Representation of the Year. But it’s not the award itself that makes me stop, it’s the name on it: Leo McKnight. I scrunch my nose and try to understand why he’d have his brother’s award on the wall.

Does Leo live here too sometimes? Jace did say he works with Leo. But that’s still a little odd to have your brother’s award on the wall. Lucas must have plenty of his own. Now that I think of it, it’s strange he doesn’t have any awards related to his hockey accomplishments on display.

Hands wrap around my stomach, and I jump in surprise.

“Merry Christmas, Riley.” Lucas’s voice tickles my ear. “You stole my slippers.”

My hand flies to my chest, my heart racing. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He kisses my neck and then my cheek, turning me around in his arms so we’re face-to-face. His breath smells like fresh mint, and his dark hair is perfectly mussed. It’s criminal how good he looks for having just woke up. And did I mention he’s back in a Henley and sweatpants? But this time, they’re a beautiful navy color that make his ice blue eyes pop. “Sorry.” He grins, though I’m positive he’s not. “I woke up and had to come replace my slipper-stealer.”

I look down at the slippers, laughing at how huge they look on my size nine feet. I shrug. “Your floors are cold.”

He chuckles, tugging me away from his wall of weird like he’s on a mission and back toward the kitchen. I think about asking him about the award, but decide against it. My plans for surprising the guys with breakfast is now out of the window, and I still need my cup of coffee.

“Making pancakes?” he asks.

“No, I was making pizza.”

He lifts one of those pretty black eyebrows at me. “You’re hilarious in the mornings.”

“Wrong,” I chuff. “I’m hilarious all the time.”

He shakes his head with mirth and walks to the coffee machine, grabbing the now full cup and handing it to me. I take the offered brew and have the sudden urge to kiss him, so I do. It’s short and sweet, not nearly long enough but it also sets my body on fire.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper, pulling back.

“Merry Christmas,” he answers.

“You already said that.”

He blows out a breath, then kisses my nose. “Like I said, hilarious.” Then he steps back to make his own cup.

As he works, I lean back against the kitchen counter to study him. He’s meticulous in the way he does his coffee, just like he was with shaving my legs. He sets it to a darker brew and as it pours, he gets out a bottle of cream and a spoon. Once the cup is full, he adds in three little spoonfuls, then stirs it in exactly three times.

“Do you do everything in threes?” I tease him.

He turns to me, coffee now in hand. “Maybe it’s my lucky number.”

“So you’re telling me I’m lucky?”

“Are you?” he challenges.

I sip my coffee before setting the cup on the counter. “Lucky? No. But did I get lucky last night? Yes.” His warm amusement fills the chilly room, and my toes curl in his slippers.

“Speaking of lucky,” I say, “our flight is back on for two o’clock today. You may want to book your seat before it fills up.”

I think disappointment flashes across his face before he wipes it away and smiles. “That’s great. I’m sure your family will be happy.”

“Won’t yours be?”

He nods. “Of course. They love Christmas.”

“You never really told me why you don’t, by the way.”

He places our mugs on the counter so he can crowd me. His face closes in on me so our lips are a whisper away, then he places his hands on my bare ass cheeks. He groans, his cock growing against the swell of my belly. “The holiday season is a busy time of year for me. It’s not exactly fun.”

“A lot of games?” I ask. I don’t miss the way his body tenses, and it makes me think of that award with Leo’s name on it again.

“Just a lot of stuff going on.”

When I open my mouth to say something, the sound of footsteps stops me. Lucas looks up, and I notice the way his eyes smile.

“Good morning,” Jace rumbles in a sleep-laden voice.

I turn in Lucas’s arms to replace him grinning groggily at us. “Merry Christmas,” I chirp.

Jace’s eyes look us both up and down, and he licks his lips. “Am I interrupting something?”

Lucas’s grip on my waist tightens, and I don’t miss the way he rubs his cock into my heating core. “I was just about to ask Shortcake if we could have a little pre-breakfast snack,” he replies.

My skin gets warmer, and if I was wearing any panties, I know they’d be wet. With Jace now awake, it’s like she has a mind of her own. Both my ass and pussy clench around nothing, greedy for their cocks again.

Jace approaches, his tattooed torso on display as he casually rubs his cock through his sweats. “Are you up for some morning fun, beautiful? You left us all alone in bed, so I wasn’t sure you were feeling well enough.”

Lucas brushes his thumb over the apple of my cheek. “If you’re too sore, we don’t have to do anything. Last night was a lot.” I know he’s actually concerned for me, but I don’t miss the shit-eating grin he’s wearing while he asks it.

Jace strokes his hand down my arm, fingering the hem of my shirt. Well, his shirt. His eyes look hungry, almost possessive when they return to mine.

One last time can’t hurt, right? Just one more fantasy with these two men before I’m on a plane home tonight. Jace’s hand cups my pussy, and I can’t help the hiss that escapes my mouth.

“I think that’s a no for pound-town.” Lucas chuckles. “You’re okay right?”

My heart swells at his concern. “Perfect. But I have an idea.”

They both look at me with a curious expression, and I decide it’s now or never. I’ve committed to my idea. Just this one last dirty fantasy that I thought I’d never do or even ask for.

“Shortcake?” Lucas asks.

But instead of answering, I pull the shirt over my head and throw it to the floor. Then I drop to my knees in front of them and say two words:

“Use me.”