Chapter 28 Mandie
Chapter twenty-eight
Mandie
The Scrabble board sat between us, polished cardboard reflecting the overhead light. The tiles were scattered in a chaotic sea of wood and letters.
Matt leaned forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over the board. His fingers, thick and calloused, moved with surprising delicacy as he arranged his letters.
A-D-O-R-E.
The word stretched across the board, bold and unmissable. He smirked, beard twitching as his piercing blue eyes flicked up to meet mine.
"Your move, Mandie."
I exhaled, rolling my eyes, but the corner of my mouth betrayed me. It curled up just enough to let him know I wasn’t as unimpressed as I pretended. My fingers brushed over my rack, the smooth wood cool against my skin. I didn’t need to dig for a word. It was already there, waiting.
T-E-A-S-E.
I placed each letter with deliberate slowness, dragging out the moment before sliding the last tile into place with a soft click. My gaze lifted, locking onto his. "Think that fits."
Johnny’s snort cut through the tension like a knife. He was sprawled across the couch, one leg kicked over the armrest, spiky blond hair catching the light. His green eyes gleamed with mischief.
Donovan, sitting beside him, didn’t react to the jab. His messy black hair fell into his gray eyes as he studied his tiles, fingers tapping a silent rhythm against the table. There was something deliberate about the way he moved, like he was weighing the cost of every option.
Then, with a quiet confidence that was startling, he leaned forward and placed his letters.
C-R-A-V-E.
The word sat there, naked and unapologetic.
Johnny’s eyebrows shot up. He leaned forward, chin resting in his palm as he eyed Donovan with a mix of amusement and hunger. "Bold move, Prince," he drawled. "You trying to start something?"
I bit back a smile as I reached for my tiles. The game had stopped being about points ten minutes ago. The air was thick with it, playful, sure, but charged. Like the static before a storm breaks.
My fingers rearranged the letters until the word clicked.
F-L-I-R-T.
I spelled it out. My gaze lifted, locking onto Matt’s again. "Your turn, big guy."
His laugh was richer this time, deeper. He didn’t bother hiding the way his eyes tracked me, slow and deliberate, memorizing the ink peeking out from my sleeves.
"You’re not wrong," he admitted, his voice rough gravel. There was something dangerous in the look, a promise of what he could do with that word.
Johnny let out a low whistle. "Damn. And here I thought we were playing a board game." He reached for his own tiles, fingers dancing over them before he grinned, sharp and knowing.
D-E-S-I-R-E.
The word landed with a finality that made my pulse jump. Johnny’s eyes flicked to me, then Matt. "Seems fitting."
Donovan didn’t miss a beat. His next word was C-H-A-R-M, placed right beside Johnny’s. An answer to a challenge. The corner of his mouth twitched, barely there, but enough. He was playing along. And damn if that didn’t ratchet the heat in the room up another notch.
I swallowed, fingers tightening around my tiles. The words on the board weren’t just words anymore. They were taunts. A back-and-forth that had nothing to do with literacy and everything to do with the way Matt’s thigh brushed mine under the table.
My next move was automatic.
Y-E-A-R-N.
The letters clicked into place. I didn’t try to hide the way my gaze held Matt's. "Seems like we’re all on the same page."
Matt’s breath hitched. His hand twitched on the table, like he was fighting the urge to reach out. "You’re playing with fire, Mandie," he murmured.
I leaned in, just enough that my shoulder pressed against his arm. "Good thing I like the heat."
Johnny barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "I knew this game was a bad idea." But he didn’t stop. He slapped his tiles down.
T-E-M-P-T.
He placed it right beside mine. A dare.
Then, Donovan. His fingers hovered over the board for a heartbeat before he set down his word.
S-U-R-R-E-N-D-E-R.
The word sat there, heavy and absolute. His gray eyes met mine, and for once, the shyness was gone. Stripped away. There was just heat. Just want.
I should’ve seen the break coming. The air in the room was too tight, the static too high. But when Matt’s hand finally moved, sliding under the table to find my thigh, I still jumped. His touch was hot, possessive, his thumb pressing into the soft skin.
"You keep pushing," he growled, the sound a low rumble meant only for me, "and I’m going to make you prove every single one of these words."
Johnny’s laugh was dark, knowing. "Now it gets interesting." He didn’t move, didn’t reach for me yet, but his eyes tracked the angle of Matt’s arm. He swiped his tongue over his lower lip, watching. Waiting.
Matt’s fingers stroked higher, brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
I bit my lip to keep the sound locked in my throat.
The game was forgotten. The tiles, the points, the banter—it all dissolved.
All that mattered was the rough heat of Matt's hand, the hunger darkening Johnny’s gaze, and the way Donovan had gone perfectly, intently still.
"Your move," Matt murmured.
He wasn’t talking about Scrabble.
I didn’t have an answer, not in words. I reached out under the table, my hand finding Johnny’s knee. I squeezed hard.
His breath hitched. His grin sharpened into something predatory.
"Guess we’re done playing nice."
Donovan’s hand joined Matt’s, his fingers sliding over the back of my neck, tangling in my hair. The contrast was intoxicating, Matt’s rough, calloused touch, Donovan’s softer, more deliberate caress.
"No more games," Donovan agreed, his voice a dark whisper.
The Scrabble board was forgotten. The tiles scattered as Matt stood, his chair scraping back with a noise that should’ve been jarring but wasn’t.
Not when his hands were on me, lifting me like I weighed nothing, setting me on the edge of the table.
The wood was cool under my thighs, a stark contrast to the heat of his body as he stepped between my legs.
"You started this," he reminded me, his mouth hovering just above mine. "You gonna finish it?"
I didn’t get a chance to answer. Johnny was there, his hands on my waist, his mouth crashing against mine before I could take another breath.
He kissed like he did everything else, fast, hungry, like he was trying to memorize the taste of me in one go.
His tongue swept against mine, demanding, and I moaned into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his spiky hair.
Matt’s hands slid up my thighs, pushing my shirt up, his calloused palms rough against my skin. "Fuck, you’re dripping," he growled, his fingers finding the waistband of my jeans. "Been like this the whole game, haven’t you?"
I couldn’t lie. Not when his fingers were already popping the button open, not when Donovan’s mouth was on my neck, his teeth grazing my pulse point just hard enough to make me gasp. "Maybe," I managed, my voice breathless.
Johnny pulled back just enough to grin at me, his eyes dark with promise.
"No maybe about it." His hand joined Matt’s, working my jeans down my hips.
The denim pooled around my ankles before he kicked them aside, leaving me in nothing but my panties and the thin fabric of my shirt, which was already riding up, exposing my stomach.
Donovan’s fingers traced the tattoos on my arms, his touch feather-light, like he was memorizing the patterns. "You’re beautiful," he murmured against my skin, his breath hot. "Always so fucking beautiful."
Matt’s hands were rougher, more insistent. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties, dragging them down with a slow deliberateness that made my hips lift off the table. "Spread your legs," he ordered, his voice a dark command.
I obeyed without thinking. The cool air hit my bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of their gazes. Johnny’s fingers trailed up my inner thigh, his touch light, teasing.
“Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with awe.
The second Matt’s fingers dug into my hips, I knew he wasn’t just playing anymore.
His grip was iron, possessive, the kind that promised he was about to take what he wanted, and fuck, did I want him to.
The air in the Keystone’s common area was already thick with the scent of sweat and arousal, the Scrabble tiles scattered across the table like the remnants of a game we’d outgrown the second his calloused palms slid up my thighs.
Then Matt's body shifted into the Gorath form I loved so much. It wasn’t just the usual bulk of him, the towering frame that made me feel small in the best way.
His skin darkened to a deep, crystalline blue, the plates of his Gorath form emerging like armor forged from the earth itself.
His muscles swelled, veins thickening beneath that hardened hide, and his four arms flexed as he loomed over me.
The transformation should’ve been terrifying, should’ve made me hesitate. But all it did was make my pulse roar in my ears, my pussy clenching around nothing, aching to be filled by that monstrous cock I knew was straining against his pants.
“Fuck,” I breathed, my voice rough, my nails digging into the edge of the table.
Matt’s laugh was a low, guttural thing, more growl than humor. “Exactly.” His claws skimmed up my spine, sending a shiver down my back before he yanked me forward, my ass lifting off the table just enough for him to line himself up.
I didn’t even have time to brace before he slammed home, his thick, ridged cock stretching me wide in one brutal thrust. He pounded my pussy with the force of a truck. The burn was instant, white-hot, my body fighting to adjust as he bottomed out with a groan that vibrated through my bones.
“Ah!” My back arched, my fingers scrambling for purchase on the slick surface of the table. “Fuck, you’re huge!”