Page 48 of Puck Me Thrice
Blake followed, gentle laps turning to fervent sucks, his finger joining Logan's tease at her ass, circling the rim while he devoured her front. And me—last again, but knowing exactly what she needed. I latched onto her clit, sucking hard while my fingers pistoned inside her, thumb pressing her perineum to intensify the pressure on her G-spot. The room filled with the sounds of it: wet slurps, her broken cries, our heavy breaths.
She broke on my watch. Her body seized, back arching off the bed like she was in heaven, a wail tearing from her throat as her pussy clamped down on my fingers, pulsing in violent waves. Gush after gush of her release coated my hand, dripping down my wrist, and I didn't stop—lapping it up, milking every spasm until she was shaking, oversensitive and spent.
Logan and Blake were there in an instant, hands stroking her thighs, lips pressing kisses to her temples and shoulders as she came down, trembling and gasping.
By the time we finished, Mira was a boneless heap, skin flushed from chest to toes, eyes glassy with wonder as she looked at us—Logan with his cocky grin, Blake with his soft smile, me with the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.
"Holy fuck," she whispered, voice hoarse, a lazy smile curving her lips. "You three... you're going to kill me."
We chuckled, piling around her, our bodies a protective cage. Her hand reached for me, fingers tracing my jaw. We'donly just started learning her rhythms. And fuck, I couldn't wait to map the rest.
"But what about you guys?" she asked.
"This was about you," Blake said gently.
"But that's not fair."
"Life isn't fair," I said, kissing her forehead. "Tonight was about making you feel good. We can explore more another time. If you want to."
"I definitely want to," Mira said immediately, then yawned. "After a nap. Because apparently orgasms make me sleepy."
We settled into Blake's bed together—Mira in the middle, the three of us arranged around her like protective shields. It should have been awkward, four people sharing a bed. Instead, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
"We're insane," Logan said into the darkness.
"Probably," I agreed.
"But happy," Blake added quietly.
We were definitely insane. But as I lay there with Mira's breathing evening out into sleep and my teammates—my friends, my chosen family—surrounding us, I thought that maybe insanity was underrated. Maybe sometimes the crazy thing was also the right thing.
Chapter 16: Mira
The championship playoffs came with a two-week road trip that involved more hotel rooms than I'd seen in my entire life and a schedule that made my head spin just looking at it.
I was assigned my own hotel room for the first time—apparently the athletic department had decided that housing their performance specialist with the team was inappropriate for extended trips. Which was probably good policy, even if it felt isolating after weeks of living in the hockey house.
I lay in my hotel bed at midnight, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
The room was too quiet. Too empty. Too devoid of the sounds I'd gotten used to: Logan's music bleeding through the walls, Blake's midnight cooking sessions, Nolan's early morning alarms.
I'd become dependent on their presence in ways I hadn't realized.
At 12:30, I gave up on sleep and ventured into the hallway, thinking maybe a vending machine run would tire me out enough to actually rest.
I made it approximately five steps before I encountered Logan, standing outside his door in sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking as wide awake and frustrated as I felt.
"Can't sleep?" I asked.
"Never can before big games," he admitted. "You?"
"Too quiet."
We stood there in the hotel hallway, an awkward silence stretching between us, both clearly wanting to suggest something but not sure if it was appropriate.
"I have snacks in my room," Logan offered finally. "We could hang out? Watch bad TV?"
Before I could answer, another door opened. Nolan emerged, looking equally awake, taking in the sight of Logan and me standing in the hallway.
