Page 87 of Cross Check Daddies
I come undone once, twice, too fast to count. Ace steadies my waist, then sinks to his knees, mouth replacing Tanner’s fingers, licking me open while Cam keeps moving, groaning into my neck.
They move in a rhythm I was born to follow. They talk to me like they’ve all claimed something. Tanner says I’m his girl. Cam calls me baby. Ace whispersminewith a bite to my breast, and I believe every one of them.
I wake up gasping, soaked in sweat and slick between my thighs. My sheets are twisted around my legs, and my T-shirt’s ridden up to my ribs. I press a hand over my belly, not just because I need to breathe, but because I need tofeelsomething solid beneath all this chaos. My nipples throb, overly sensitive, and I swear I can still feel the scrape of Ace’s teeth in a place his mouth never actually touched.
I stare at the ceiling, heart wild, brain scrambled. I can’t lie to myself anymore. I’m falling in love with all three of them, and it’s not a maybe. It’s a reality I can taste, something heavy but not unwelcome in my chest. Each one of them gives me something different—heat, safety, laughter, softness. I crave them like water, like air. And I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to choose. Or if I evencan.
I climb out of bed carefully, stretching my back, pulling on a hoodie over my oversized shirt. Ivy and Jackson are still asleep. Buddy lifts his head when I pass him, curled up at the foot of the couch, but doesn’t bother moving.
I make a cup of tea and settle on the floor with my laptop. The GameHatch title screen flickers to life. We changed the name last week after that late-night branding meeting.ICEMEN: FROSTBITEnow flashes in bold silver script over a sharp glacier background.
It tested well in every mock review, and it makes me grin like a maniac knowing we built this from scratch.
I scroll through a few last-minute UI adjustments, tighten some of the voice line triggers, and note a few minor bugs still needing cleanup.
My phone buzzes beside me.
Tanner >>You up?
I smile, heart tugging in that way it does when I see his name.
Me >>Barely. Why are you up?
Tanner >>Couldn’t sleep. It’s almost 6. Just wanted to check on you.
Tanner >>Can I FaceTime?
I pause for a second. Glance at the disaster that is my reflection in the black screen of my laptop. Then shrug.
I hit call.
His face appears instantly, bed hair and all, shirtless with sleepy eyes that still manage to light up when he sees me.
“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he says, voice low and raspy. “Even all rumpled like that.”
I roll my eyes, but my smile gives me away. “You always start your mornings with this much charm?”
“Nah. Just when I miss someone.”
My stomach flutters. “You miss me?”
“Every second,” he says. “But especially the ones I’m not inside you.”
My laugh comes out sharper than I intend, half-scandalized, half-flattered. “Tanner.”
“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “It’s early. I’m uncensored.”
“You’re always uncensored.”
He grins, then adjusts the camera so I can see more of him—bare chest, the edge of his tattoo, the line of his hip where the sheet’s barely hanging on. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“I have an idea,” he says.
“Oh?”
“One of my buddies owes me a favor. Has a boat docked near Biscayne. I could grab it. We could catch the sunrise. Just you and me on the water.”
I bite my lip, warmth pooling in places I shouldn’t be thinking about right now. “That sounds…”
