Triple Pucked (Bay Rebels #5)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Freedom

Robyn

“You’re triple pucked.” Shay waves his playing cards at me like it’s a promise rather than a threat. “You’re about to lose our strip poker game, love.”

He is too enthusiastic, allowing me to glimpse his poker hand.

I wince.

Not with those cards, I’m not.

He’s the one who is triple pucked.

“Hey,” I wrinkle my nose in protest, “I have a sock and panties left and I’m holding onto them with my life.”

I am also wearing the golden pendant and rings that my men gifted to me. I never take them off.

Our adventurous entertainment today is Shay’s reward for winning the last three hockey games in a row, before practice starts up again along with even tougher games next week. For now, I and my lovers have a weekend together to explore our fantasies.

This is Shay’s.

The thrill that we are playing this outside, where we may be seen, makes me push my thighs together.

I understand my lovers well enough to know that we’re safe and won’t be stumbled across by shocked hikers.

But what if…?

There is something dark and broken buried beneath Shay’s sunniness.

Since the phone call from his abusive ex, Blythe, four months ago, he has been brittle, masking his distress with even wilder behavior than normal both on and off the ice.

Shay’s twin, Eden, and I have been acting as his PR shield. On the ice, D’Angelo is every team member’s shield.

In this polyamorous relationship, where Shay is loved equally by both D’Angelo and me, we’d do anything to ground him.

Including, it turns out, shivering at the end of January in a grove of trees, playing kinky card games.

The loser of each hand must remove the items of clothing that they’ve bet. The game ends when one of us has lost every item.

But then, don’t we all win in a game like this?

I don’t know what D’Angelo said to Blythe, but she hasn’t tried to contact Shay since the mysterious phone call. At least, I don’t think that she has.

It feels, however, like Shay is just waiting for the moment that his perfect new life with me falls apart.

He’s reckless, as if he wants to be hurt because he’s been made to feel that he deserves to be.

I’m going to do everything to show Shay that he only deserves to be loved.

After lunch, D’Angelo drove me into the mountains close to the town of Freedom in his Alfa Romeo with the twins following on the Harley. Then D’Angelo led us to this grove deep in the forests with the determined look of a man who had scoped out the spot for some wicked plan.

The look of a wolf and his prey.

Luckily, Shay and I love being devoured by D’Angelo.

When I glance at Eden, I realize that he’s wearing the same predator expression.

I shift around, as sharp twigs dig into my soles. Sun warms my bare back. Then I hurriedly glance around to check that we are still alone. I take a deep breath of the fresh, pine scented air.

My cheeks flush. My heart beats faster.

Is there movement behind that tree?

I wrap my arm over my breasts, even though my pussy becomes wetter.

There’s no one there, only shadows.

Shay is perched on a log next to me. He’s vibrating with energy, bouncing his leg.

The sun that dapples through the canopy lights Shay’s ice-white skin. He is impossibly pretty for a hockey player with sharp cheekbones and winter gray eyes.

Shay is six foot, which means that he’s shorter than most hockey players. His nails are painted metallic gray. He is also naked apart from a pair of Bay Rebels official socks.

Can I vote at the next board meeting for nothing but a pair of socks to be the new hockey uniform?

Of course, he is also wearing the ring in the puck design that I gave to him. I gifted a matching ring to his twin and D’Angelo because I was keen to show them how serious my commitment was.

When Shay enthusiastically removed his pants as the first item to use as a stake, D’Angelo sighed but fondly.

It’s harder to keep Shay in clothes than to take him out of them.

His thigh is warm against mine.

Throughout the game, he has brushed his fingers down the back of my arm, as if to stroke away the goosebumps.

It’s his tell.

He doesn’t need one, however, because he’s as easy to read as a golden retriever book.

He has no poker face. But then, his twin pretty much only has a poker face.

“I’m winning your last two items.” Shay taps his sock, wiggling his toes. “I’m raising my last sock. I scored the winning goal in every game last week. Our team has been on bloody fire all month. I’m the top scorer. So, I can win at poker too, right?”

I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.

Maybe it should be a rule that war negotiations should take place with the two sides being naked apart from socks?

Shay is the star player of the Bay Rebels hockey team where I am the PR Director. He is also one of the reasons that I have spent the entire season fighting one PR crisis after another.

Despite that, he is the sunshine in my life. And he is sitting opposite the team’s grumpy but dominantly gorgeous Captain…who is the other reason for those PR disasters.

Jude D’Angelo.

“For an astrophysicist,” D’Angelo drawls, “you’re finding the concept of a poker face hard to grasp, cucciolo.”

D’Angelo hasn’t lost a single item of clothing in the game.

Smug asshole.

He is sprawled on a mossy log that is facing Shay and me.

I should have known just how good at poker D’Angelo would be when he truly had something that he craved. He plays poker with an intense competitiveness at least once a week with the twins, as well as Michael, who is married to my brother, Cody.

Today, D’Angelo appears relaxed, lounging like Lucifer on a throne.

Despite appearing bored, he is casually destroying all three of us.

D’Angelo is still dressed in his full immaculate designer navy suit and waistcoat. He is tall with olive skin and piercing ice blue eyes. Raven curls frame his strong face.

Shay puffs up his chest, once again forgetting his sock and cock and balls predicament. “I have a brilliant hand.”

“I rest my case.” D’Angelo smirks. “Also, you’re bluffing. Yet I can’t read your twin at all. He should become a secret agent.”

“How do you know that I’m not already one?” Eden darts his inscrutable gaze to D’Angelo’s.

D’Angelo freezes. “I knew that your were a too talented PA. Where else could you have learned those skills with schedules, packed lunches, and Post-Its than in MI6? What does that make me? Bond’s boss?”

“Target practice?” I chuckle.

“Who said that I work for the British?” Eden focuses on his cards.

D’Angelo’s mouth opens and then closes.

Shay leans over and swats his brother’s arm. “Be nice to the grumpy bear. He bites.”

Shay stands up and dramatically points to the livid bite mark on his peachy ass with pride.

“Sit down.” D’Angelo looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh.

“You’ve shown — at least three times — where I’ve marked you as mine.

We both know that you asked me to. Now, unless you want this bear to bite your ass again, behave.

You’ve dropped one of your cards. A two of diamonds?

Are you sure that you’ve got the winning hand? ”

I grin, as Shay flushes.

Shay throws himself back onto the log, snatching up his card. “Wait and see, darlin’.”

Eden is also still dressed, only having lost his scarf. It coils like a snake on top of my poppy embroidered cotton dress and Shay’s leathers in the center of our circle.

Eden is wearing a gray t-shirt and black leather trousers.

His expression is unreadable, and he is literally holding his cards close to his chest.

Eden has golden hair like Shay, but his is slicked back from his face. His right eyebrow is pierced. This makes his cheekbones look sharper than his brother’s.

As it has for the last few months, my gaze is drawn to the beautiful robin tattoo. It nestles amongst the thorns of the black roses tattoos, which wind up Eden’s bulging arms.

Eden’s ink is a way of taking back control over his life and body. Black roses symbolize that he has endured pain, but he has still bloomed.

The twins were sold by their addict biological parents, when they were kids. They both have different ways of coping with that trauma, some of it healthy and some of it not.

The robin, however, symbolizes me.

I’m so fucking honored that Eden chose to have my name tattooed on himself through this pretty bird taking flight.

It represents the hope of our present amongst the pain of our pasts.

Our love.

His belief that we have a future.

It’s more precious to me than a wedding ring.

My gaze darts between the men’s hands, as they hold their cards. My eyes light with joy to see the rings that I gave them to ensure they knew that our love (even if it needed to be kept secret for the sake of our careers), was for a lifetime.

And not a day less.

The platinum signet rings are designed with a spinning puck like it’s just been hit toward a goal.

Maybe I am the one who is triple pucked by these three men

I love seeing them playing hockey in front of thousands in the arena, plus millions at home, wearing my rings, but nobody knows that means we’re partners.

What would happen if they found out?

Our worlds would crumble. The season would be ruined. We’d lose everything.

My chest tightens.

I force myself to concentrate on my cards, trying not to give away my reaction.

A pair of aces.

A good hand.

D’Angelo gives me a long look like he can see right into my soul and work out everything that I’m holding in my hand.

I shift around on the hard log, which is digging into places that gives me new sympathy for the phrase to have a stick up your ass.

“Are you okay?” Eden’s voice is deep and rumbling.

“We’re bringing a fluffy rug next time,” I grumble.

“I’ll be wearing two pairs of everything,” Shay declares.

“Come dressed in stockings, suspenders, and panties.” D’Angelo leans forward, and Shay’s cheeks pink adorably at the same time that his pupils dilate; he likes that idea. “It won’t help you. I’ll still strip them away. I always will.”