Page 35 of Inked Daddies

But Sam? He looks at me like I’m a fragile flower.

He doesn’t know I’m fragile like a bomb, ready to explode.

“I know that, Sam.” The words hang in the air, heavier than I expect, but I don’t take them back. “But I want more.”

“More with who?” Trick pushes.

I swallow, but I’m not changing my mind about this. Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the tattoo or the kisses or getting attackedby Crow, but I brought it up, and I’m not leaving until I know where I stand with them.

I lock eyes with Sam to make this perfectly clear. “More with all of you.”

I have never seen someone stride faster than he does, coming toward me. His hot hands cup my face before he kisses me harder than the other two. I thought he’d be gentle, but I was wrong. His kiss is needful, aggressive. Like he’s worried I’ll stop him or I don’t mean what I said.

I meant every word, and I plan to show him.

I reach up for his shoulders and tug. I want him closer, on top of me, something, anything. I just need to feel him. Feel this moment.

But he backs off, breaking the kiss. He presses his forehead to mine, and I breathe his breath. All I see is those almost black eyes staring back at me. “This can’t happen.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” Trick says as he closes in too. His big hand strokes my calf, the one without the fresh tattoo.

“Why not?” I ask Sam.

“You’re…and I’m…we’re too old for you.”

A nervous laugh pops out of me. “Do you think I care about any of that?”

“Clearly not,” Hugo interjects.

Sam huffs. “This is a bad idea.”

“We’ve gone from an impossibility to just a bad idea now? That sounds like progress,” I tease.

He laughs once, sharply. “You’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you, girl?”

“I’ll try.”

He grins and it’s beautiful. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him smile like that, and my heart does this funny thing in my chest. I want to make him smile like that again, but then he kisses me, and my priorities shift.

The next moments blur together, a rush of heat and nerves and anticipation that I’m not entirely prepared for. I don’t even know who takes my shoes off—maybe it’s Trick, maybe it’s Hugo—but suddenly they’re gone, and a hand slips from my calf to my inner thigh. Someone kisses my wrist before kissing their way up my arm. I lose track of them when Sam’s tongue enters my mouth. There’s a pleasure in that I never expected.

I’ve been kissed before. But it was nothing like kissing Trick, Hugo, or Sam. There wasn’t the heady sense that I’m floating in my body. No waves of heat beneath my skin. Those other kisses were bottom tier. Loose lips or worse, bad breath. Worst of all, meaningless.

Before I left for Boston with Mom, Danny Brooker had been my first and only kiss. The boys in the north were just that—boys. They didn’t know how to kiss like this. How to make a woman feel ravished with just their mouths.

Right now, it’s more than their mouths ravishing me. I’m surrounded by them, their hands and lips everywhere, and it’s better than I ever imagined it could be. My heart races, and I’m so damn wet that I worry it’ll be off-putting.

“Relax,” Sam murmurs, his lips brushing against my jaw as he kisses me there and down my throat. “We’ve got you.”

I close my eyes, letting the words sink in, and something inside me unravels. I’ve never done this before. I’m nervous. Excited. Terrified. In a good way.

It’s not just about the physical touch—it’s about them. The way Trick’s laughter wraps around me like a blanket, the way Hugo’s hands feel like they’re holding me together, the way Sam’s eyes never leave mine, even when his lips move to my shoulder. They take their time, each movement careful and deliberate, like they’re afraid I’ll break if they’re not gentle enough.

But then, Trick’s hand touches me there. Over my underwear, but right there. I grip the arms of the chair, surprised by my own reaction. It’s not that I didn’t know where this was headed, but the shock of somebody else touching me is a lot to take.

“Do you want us to stop?” Sam asks.

I shudder at the thought. “Don’t you dare.”

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