2. Wynn
two
Wynn
M y reunion with "Monk," or as I know him, Grady, was short-lived since Don interrupted our conversation to finish the tour of the team's facilities. The tour took longer than expected, causing me to run late for the goat yoga class.
The sound of goats bleating is the first thing that greets me when I open the door to the yoga studio, "Love Yourself Long Time," named after the owner, Maggie Long—I found out after an internet search of the studio.
"I'm here for the goat yoga class," I say to a bored-looking teenager behind the check-in desk as I slip off my long winter coat, covering my sports bra and leggings.
"Name." She sighs, never taking her eyes off her cell phone.
"Wynn Flannery."
"Second door on the right—follow the disgusting smell of goat fur." Her fingers fly across her phone's screen, dismissing me from any further questions I might have about this class or future classes.
As I walk from the front desk to the assigned room, I turn around and look at the girl operating the counter, wondering if the owner knows how rude her employee is. Probably not. I can't imagine anyone putting up with such an insubordinate employee.
My thoughts are interrupted when I slam into what feels like a brick wall—except this brick wall is warm and smells utterly delicious. I lift my eyes from the muscular chest in a tight white T-shirt to a pair of deep brown eyes.
"Are you stalking me now, Princess?" Of course, it would have to be Maximus Martin, who I ran into.
I step back, giving myself a little breathing room before I do something crazy and rub against him like a cat in heat—which is precisely how I feel.
"Stop calling me Princess. I'm your fucking coach." I snarl, needing to regain the upper hand in our player-coach dynamic.
"Is that so—you're my fucking coach." His smile widens, making my stomach drop, causing me to wonder if my snarky comment has just backfired. "Because fucking is the last thing I need to be coached on, Coach." He brushes his arm against mine as he reaches for the classroom door, causing goosebumps all over my body. Not to mention my nipples harden into stiff peaks beneath my damn sports bra. Between that and the tight black leggings that are now damp in the crotch, thanks to this jerk revving up my horny meter again, I'm pretty much screwed for this yoga class.
Screwed. I wish.
"After you." He flashes me another smile while ushering me through the door with a big, warm hand on the middle of my back.
A sarcastic response weighs heavy on my tongue as I step through the door to find the room packed with hockey players, goats, and two women I assume are Maggie and Aubree—all eyes are on the two of us—even the goats.
"Welcome! Welcome!" A gorgeous redhead says from the front of the room. "Sorry, you are the last two to arrive, and thanks to these three who don't know the meaning of being banned for life from my studio, you'll have to share a goat." She motions to the three hockey player who told me of their claim on her earlier today, grinning like a bunch of fools. "There's a spot in the back between Monk and King—you'll have to share Karen." The goat in question gives me a bored look as I walk toward her, reminding me of the girl at the front desk, causing me to giggle.
"Finally, a beautiful sound coming out of that beautiful mouth." Maximus startles me when he leans down and whispers in my ear as he follows me to our designated spot in the room.
My temper gets the best of me, causing me to jab my elbow hard into his six-pack or, more than likely, eight-pack, causing him to make a whooshing sound. I'm sure the sound was more from surprise than any actual damage to his hard body—I can't say the same for my now throbbing elbow.
"Over here!" King calls from the back row. "We saved you a spot."
"Thanks," I say, nodding to King and Monk as I take the spot between them.
"Looks like we'll have to squish together to make room for all of us." Maximus squeezes his huge body next to mine, conveniently placing himself between me and King.
He must think King is more of a threat to the sexual torture he has been hitting me with. If Maximus only knew Monk had already seen me naked, licked every part of my body, and came in every single one of my holes at least twice, he'd rethink who the real threat was.
My ass cheeks clench, remembering how Grady's cock felt pulsing inside my ass—it was the first and obviously last time I've ever done anal. He was so patient, prepping my body to take his large cock.
"Are you okay?" Speaking of Grady, or, I guess, Monk as they call him, he leans over and asks. "You look a little flushed."
"Here's some water." King thrusts an opened bottle of water at me, lifting it to my lips until I have no choice but to open my mouth and drink.
"Thanks." I finally say once he's pulled the bottle away from my mouth. "I'm fine, really." Our goat, Karen, must sense she's not the center of attention as she head-butts me right in the crotch—not hard, but enough to let me know she's not happy with the situation. "And that's the most action I'll see in a long time," I mutter to myself—or at least I thought it was only loud enough for my ears as I look around at my yoga partners to find them staring at me with different expressions, one hopeful, one longing, and one cocky.
Luckily, I'm saved from the awkwardness of the moment by Maggie starting the class. "Alright, class, let's begin. Deep breath in—slowly blow out."
Maggie continues to lead us through pose after pose until Karen decides she's bored with all the yoga nonsense. Trotting off, she makes herself comfortable on my wool coat—hopefully not too comfortable. But that's a problem for later. My body is humming with a slight pull from each pose.
With my hectic coaching schedule, I'd stopped going to yoga class, only allowing time for a quick run on my treadmill. I'd forgotten how good the stretches felt. In the bridge pose, I lift my hips, arch my back, and thrust my hips toward the ceiling, and I swear I hear moaning or maybe groaning around me.
I decided to write it off as just wishful thinking since the moaning and groaning sounded so sexual until we switched to the downward dog position, and the moaning and groaning got louder. I peek around my body the best I can, staying in the pose to see most of the guys in the room have stopped what they were doing to stare at Maggie, Aubree, and me while we hold our pose. Maggie's men are staring at her—River, Kyson, and Bowen are intently watching Aubree, while King, Maximus, and Monk's eyes make me feel stripped bare by their lust-filled gaze.
The goats begin to bleat loudly, voicing their dissatisfaction with being ignored by half the class, leading Maggie to end the class for the night. "Alright, everyone. I think that's enough for tonight. As a reminder, the studio will be closed on Wednesday night—I have a date." The words are barely out of her mouth when the chaos hits.
Angry snarls of, "Like Hell you do," "Over my dead body," and "Fuck that" can be heard over the goats bleating louder and louder as they begin to run around the room in a fight or flight mode. Except for Karen, she has yet to move from her spot on my coat.
Aubree, Kyson, Bowen, and River look like something out of a comedy as they chase the startled goats throughout the room while Maggie argues with the three guys. I have yet to know their names, which is not good for a coach.
Don't get me wrong—I've researched my team's stats and bios, which I could rattle off in a heartbeat. But if I'm asked to pick them out of a lineup, that's probably not going to happen.
"Come on. Let's get out of here." Monk grabs my shoulders, guiding me to the exit with Maximus and King close behind.
"But my coat." I barely had time to grab my purse, which, luckily, Karen didn't see lying next to my coat, or it might have been a snack for her.
"Here." Monk stops, yanks off his sweatshirt, and puts it over my head.
"What about you? Won't you be cold?" I protest, trying to wiggle out of the sweatshirt that has almost swallowed me whole as it hangs almost to my knees, and try to give it back to him.
He puts his hands on my shoulders, stopping my squirming, "Don't worry about me—I'll be fine. But I don't want my little mermaid to get cold." He winks, and I almost melt to the floor.
I'd forgotten how charming he can be when he's not balls deep inside of me telling me all the nasty things he wants to do to my body, which he lived up to each and every one of those promises in a short amount of time. Maybe his nickname should be Prince instead of Monk.
I take a deep breath, inhaling his masculine scent, clinging to the sweatshirt. My eyes flutter shut as the smell of man and sweat hits me until I regain my senses. I'm their coach—I can't be lusting after them.
Once outside in the parking lot, King asks, "Do you want to grab a drink at the coffee shop around the corner?" A hopeful look shining in his eyes in the moonlight that, unfortunately, I have to squash.
"No. I need to get home." I step away from the temptation named, King, Monk, and Maximus. "I have a big day ahead of me. We all have a big day ahead of us tomorrow." I correct, reminding them of the real reason I'm here—to coach their hockey team. "I'll see you tomorrow." I reach for the hem of the sweatshirt to return it to Monk, but he places his hand on top of mine, halting my movement.
"You need it more than I do tonight. You can return it later." He leans down so I'm the only one who can hear the last part. "Besides, I like the idea of something of mine being wrapped around your luscious body." He gives my hand a quick squeeze before letting go. "Goodnight, Coach." He says and turns toward his SUV, leaving me with Maximus and King.
"Are you sure you don't need anything tonight?" King asks. It's an innocent enough question, so why does it have my heart racing thinking about what the three of them could do for me tonight and every night?
"No. I'm good. Thanks."
He opens his mouth to say more, but Maximus stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Coach, you're right. We need to get home, especially now that we have such an interesting neighbor who recently moved in next door." King reluctantly follows Maximus to where their trucks are parked.
"Goodnight, Coach." They both wave, getting into their vehicles.
I wait until I can't see their taillights as they drive down the road before I pull out my phone and search for the email with a map of the team housing. The team's owners owns the property, with two—to three-bedroom houses available for players, coaches, and staff.
I scan the document only to find that my new neighbors in the three surrounding houses are none other than Maximus, King, and Monk.
Fate must really hate me.