DANIELLE IS at the game tonight, but we all decided she’d join me in the owner’s box to keep her off the fucking jumbotron and away from Sammy the Malamute. I specifically told Wade not to come upstairs tonight. But it was via text and honestly, I have no idea if that communication got through. Not because of the wireless service, but because of Wade. That kid is kind of weird.
The weirdest thing tonight, though, is that I feel restless about Danielle being in the box with me.
The four of us have been dating– as strange as it sounds–I can’t deny that it’s the most accurate way to describe what we’re doing–for a few weeks now and I’ve gotten used to sharing her.
God, what’s happened to me? I’m sharing the woman I love with two other men and…I’m happy about it.
Michael and Crew are good for her. Great for her. I love seeing her with them. They give her things I can’t. But I’m aware that I can give her things they don’t. We are a team, each with our roles, and crazy as it is, it’s working.
So having her all to myself tonight, almost hiding her away in my private box tonight during a Racketeers game, seems wrong. The Racketeers are Michael’s and Crew’s too. They care about the team almost as much–maybe as much–as I do. They know she’s here, but it feels wrong that they don’t have eyes on her, can’t see her cheering and waving and smiling.
She looks gorgeous tonight. She’s in a pretty yellow dress with white flowers that hits her at her midthigh, short black boots, and a bright pink sweater. No jersey. Crew said he was okay with that. It would possibly keep the media from noticing her and freaking out.
But I don’t know if Crew is really okay with it.
I don’t know if he should be okay with it.
She is his girlfriend. He was right about that the night we argued about it. We were all right about our points. We’d talked about it. We’d made a decision. We thought it was important to wait to go public. And it is. I don’t think we’re ready for what people will say about a relationship between four people. Many won’t understand. Many will think it’s dirty and just about sex. People will have very unflattering opinions about us, and if we’re honest though, we haven’t said it out loud, we know that most of that judgment will be toward Danielle.
But why can’t Crew claim her? He’s the most public figure of the four of us. And he and Danielle are fucking cute together. Hughes and I have no problems with our egos. We wouldn’t feel left out or jealous if people thought only Crew was dating her. Not really. We would discuss it and, yeah, Hughes and I would be okay. We know what happens at home. What’s in her heart.
That is one thing we never have to wonder about—Danielle Larkin wears her heart on her sleeve and if you are loved by her, you know it.
I smile and run my hand up and down her back. She leans into me, almost instinctively it seems. We’re sharing the loveseat set up right in front of the glass overlooking the arena. She’s got her legs crossed and her bare thigh is distracting. I want to run my hand up and down the creamy expanse. But I like having my arm around her, hugging her against me. She’s a great cuddler.
She suddenly sits up straight, gasping, and leaning forward as Crew flies down the ice toward the goal. Her eyes don’t leave him, even to blink.
But at the last moment, just before he shoots, a defender from the Gators steals the puck, leaving Crew empty-handed.
“Dammit,” she murmurs, leaning back again. She’s frowning.
I love how into the game she is. She even shushed me earlier when I asked her if she wanted another drink.
I can tell that watching everything from way up here isn’t as fun for her as the seats she’s had down on the ice previously. She understands more about the game after the last few weeks with Crew and she’s itching to be closer to the action.
He’s included her when he watches game videos. She’s asked him a million questions. Then, the other night, he decided to quiz her and they played strip hockey trivia after dinner. He asked her questions and every time she got one wrong, she had to take a piece of clothing off. Michael and I thought sitting back and watching was going to be a great spectator sport.
In the end it took him nearly an hour, and finally two made-up cheater questions, to get her totally naked.
Not that she minded. We made sure of that. But damn, she did a great job handling those questions.
“Go, Crew,” she whispers, again leaning forward as he takes the puck from the Gators and charges down the ice.
The crowd is wild and loud. It’s so quiet up here in contrast.
“Go!” She suddenly shoots to her feet and her hands slap the glass. “Go! Come on baby!”
But again, at the last minute, Crew loses the puck. In fact, the player who steals it from him takes it all the way down the ice and… fuck…scores. Just as the buzzer sounds, ending the second period.
“What?” Danielle yells. “Dammit!”
She’s so fucking…adorable. Danielle deserves to have some fun with dating a hockey star. Being on social media all into a game like this. Being that girl–the one who landed a guy like Crew. And Crew is absolutely the type of guy to make it a big, happy, fun, romantic deal. He’d make sure the entire world, including every single puck bunny, knows how he feels about Danielle Larkin.
Instead, she’s hiding out way up above the rest of the arena, with me, frowning at the ice below.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asks, swinging to face me.
Crew is playing like shit. This is easily the worst game he’s had in a Racketeers uniform. Probably the worst he’s had in an NHL uniform.
“He’s having a bad night,” I say vaguely.
“But why?” she asks, worry in her eyes. “He seemed fine when he left today.”
I hadn’t seen him since this morning, but Danielle had been home with him until he needed to leave for the arena. “Did you talk about anything specific?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. We had lunch. We watched some South Park episodes. He was laughing and being Crew.”
“Well…” I’m sure I know the problem. But I’m not sure how to solve it. Or rather, I’m not sure that I should. I know exactly how to fix it, but it might be a bad idea.
“What Nathan?” she demands, putting her hands on her hips. “Did you have another fight?”
I hold up my hands. “Not my fault this time,” I tell her. Heaven forbid I upset her sweet little puppy. But I smile in spite of myself. I love how Crew is when he’s around Danielle. Somehow all of his usual joking, and lack of seriousness, and cockiness is softer around her. When he’s making her laugh, and smile, and blush I can’t help but like him. A lot.
“So what’s going on?”
“You’re not down there, where he can see you, wearing his number,” I tell her honestly. “He knows you’re here, which is great. But…” I sigh. “He wants the world to know.”
She frowns and sits down beside me again. “But the world can’t know.”
I run my hand up and down her back again, needing to touch her. “I think we need to talk about that.”
“About what?”
“Maybe you should be Crew’s girlfriend publicly.”
Her frown deepens. “But I’m not just Crew’s girlfriend.”
“No. But Michael and I know that. And we’re the only ones that really need to know that. You and Crew could have a lot of fun publicly. He could dote all over you. And it would keep the media from speculating. He could just love you out loud the way he wants to. It’s so hard for him not to.”
Michael and I are older, and calmer, and it’s far easier for us to manage our feelings. Calling Crew an extrovert is an understatement. Asking him to hide feelings of any kind, but especially strong feelings like the ones he has for Danielle, is a lot like shaking a bottle of soda and trying to keep all of that effervescence contained.
She smiles, her eyes full of love and happiness, but then she shakes her head. “You two don’t need to step aside for Crew’s ego. He knows how to play on a team.” She gestures toward the game. “He can be a part of this without being the star.”
I laugh. He plays with the team but there’s no denying he’s the fucking star of the Racketeers. I lean over and kiss her cheek. “You’re the star, Danielle. That’s what we’re saying. Keeping you up here, hidden away and keeping you at home all the time, not taking you out and wining and dining you, not dressing you up and showing you off, not splashing your gorgeous face all over social media just isn’t right. You landed the hottest hockey star in the league. Do you know how many women would be jealous of you?”
She laughs but her cheeks are pink. “I don’t need other women to be jealous of me.”
She doesn’t. I believe her. But I lean in and say in her ear, “But wouldn’t it be fun to have everyone know that you’re fucking Crew McNeill every night?”
A little shiver dances through her. “I’m fucking Crew McNeill, and Michael Hughes, and Nathan Armstrong,” she says, her voice husky. “Luckiest girl in the world.”
“You sure as hell are.” I press a kiss against her neck. “And you’re doing it very well.” Crew is the one who generally fulfills Danielle’s need for praise. Michael is the one who’s sweet and romantic with her. I’m the one who gets to be filthy and bossy with her. But I certainly don’t mind telling her what a good girl she is. “You make us all so damned happy, Danielle.” I tug her sweater off her shoulder and kiss the skin along her collar bone.
She gives a sweet little gasp and tips her head back.
“But think about it. You could meet Crew in that back hallway after games with all the other girlfriends and wives.” I lean and press another kiss to her throat. She smells so damned good, I just breathe her in for a moment. I rest my hand on her thigh, stroking the soft skin, inching up under the hem of her skirt. “You could give him big, happy, congratulatory kisses when he’s all jacked up on adrenaline. He could pick you up and carry you out of there in front of everyone.” My hand slides higher. She parts her knees as her breathing quickens. “Everyone would be talking about how hot you are together. Media would catch you making out in restaurants.” My fingertips brush her panties. Her hot, wet panties.
“Nathan,” she moans softly.
I run my finger up and down over the middle of her panties, brushing over her clit and pressing a little harder on that sweet spot on each stroke. I move my mouth to hover just over hers. “And think about me and Michael, watching it all on social media. Watching Crew get to be the one you claim in public. The one who can dip you back and kiss you on the sidewalk. The one who can rest his hand on your sweet ass when he walks with you. Think about how turned on we’ll be by the time you get home.” I slip my finger under the edge of her panties. “How ready we’ll be to claim you as ours too.”
She moans again and parts her thighs further. The pulse point at the base of her throat is thrumming. “You won’t be jealous, though,” she says. “You know how I feel about you. And you love to watch us.”
I slide my finger over her outer folds. “Oh, I do. I really do.” I slip my finger into her heat. “I love how wet it makes you when one of us is kissing you, touching you, undressing you, while the others watch.”
She whimpers and grasps the edge of the seat cushion. “Nathan!”
“Which means when you get home you’ll be dripping.” I slide my finger into her. “So wet and hot.” I move my finger in and out, swirling over her clit, then thrusting into her again. “You’ll be begging for our cocks.”
“Nathan!”
Her pussy grips me.
“And we won’t let Crew take you first. He’ll get to kiss you, touch you, call you sweetheart in public.” I move my fingers faster. “That means Michael and I get this sweet pussy, and your tight ass, and your greedy mouth first.” I circle her clit and kiss her deeply.
She’s panting, but she shakes her head. “But that’s three places for three men.”
“Nope.” I circle her clit faster, then plunge two fingers into her. “If Crew gets your laughter and your smiles and your name linked with his in the papers, then we get this gorgeous body, and your begging, and your orgasms at home.”
She’s close. I can feel it. She loves the idea of being publicly claimed, as well as what that will do to us at home. She knows that she’s got us all on our knees, metaphorically and literally, whenever she wants us there, and that makes her feel powerful.
It should. There are three men who will do absolutely anything for her.
“But don’t worry,” I tell her, finger fucking her deep and fast. “We’ll let Crew finally take you. He’ll be so worked up after having you by his side all night, then having to watch us make you scream.”
A few months ago, I would have never believed that I would use the image of two other men fucking her with me to get her hot so quickly and send her careening over the edge of a fast, hot orgasm, but now this is my reality and as Danielle’s pussy milks my fingers, I fucking love it. I will do anything to make this woman feel like the goddess she is.
“That’s it, my sweet, dirty girl. Think about your men taking care of you in every fucking way you need us.”
She grasps my wrist and cries out as she comes around my fingers. Then she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls my mouth to hers, kissing me as the ripples of her orgasm fade slowly. I slide my hand from her panties and pull her into my lap, deepening the kiss.
“Best intermission ever,” she says against my lips.
I smile. “Good. Now let’s get you into a jersey and get you down by the ice so Crew can see his girl and maybe pull this game out in the third period.”
The Racketeers are only down by one so it’s definitely possible.
She pulls back and gives me a dazzling smile. “Really?”
“Well, I hear his boss is kind of an asshole. I don’t want him to be in trouble for playing like shit tonight.”
She laughs. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but his boss is actually an amazing guy who really likes Crew deep down and wants him to be the best player he can be.”
I lift a brow. “Maybe so. But trust me, his boss also wants him to play well because he’s being paid a shit ton and he better fucking earn that money.”
She pushes up off my lap, but gives me a sassy smile. “Give him a break. He’s madly in love for the first time in his life.”
And my heart squeezes. I fucking love that she knows that. That she’s owning it.
“You’re right,” I say, standing and catching her hand to pull her back in for one more sweet kiss. “I’ll give him a break. That does kind of wreak havoc on a guy like…him.”
She grins up at me. Like she knows that I almost said ‘me’.
“Thanks. He means a lot to me.”
I lean in and kiss the tip of her nose and then escort her down to the same storage room where I got her the T-shirt the first night we met and outfit her with a MCNEILL 17 fan jersey.
Then, against my better judgment, I have Sammy the Malamute escort her to a seat right off the ice. And to be sure Crew sees her, I text Michael.
I’ve just stepped back into my box when I hear the crowd cheering. I look up at the jumbotron and watch Crew skate to the glass right in front of Danielle with a huge grin on his face. He puts his gloved hand up on the glass and she leans in, putting her hand up on the glass on the other side.
The crowd goes wild and I feel my own huge, stupid, goofy grin.
Yeah, Danielle is now, publicly anyway, Crew McNeill’s girlfriend.
That’s perfect.
And it stays perfect for the next sixty-three minutes.
Which is long enough for Crew to score two goals, the Racketeers to win the game, Danielle to meet him in the back hallway, and social media to explode with the photo of the two of them with their hands up on the glass looking all lovey-dovey before the start of that third period and then photos of her in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, kissing him after the game with the headline JUST A FAN MY ASS.
There is also a shot of Danielle kissing Michael in what looks like the hallway outside of the locker room. Probably right before the game. It’s a sweet kiss, but definitely more than friendship.
Right next to the photos of her in my owner’s box with her head thrown back, my mouth against her neck, and my hand under her skirt. The photo was obviously taken with a telephoto lens, but it’s clear what’s going on.
Even though the headline reads, WHAT THE PUCK IS GOING ON?
