Page 37 of Her Puck Daddies (Game On Daddies #2)

As I make my way toward the bar, the noise around me seems to fade, like someone gently turned down the volume of the party.

The lighting is softer here, casting a warm, golden glow over the sleek countertop and glinting off the bartender’s polished glassware.

He’s focused on his task, carefully wiping down the counter with the kind of attention that says he’s seen it all.

But it’s not him that has my pulse kicking up a notch.

It’s the three men standing just off to the side.

Their presence is impossible to ignore, like gravity pulling me in.

I’ve met almost everyone linked to the Avs by now—players, coaches, the whole crew—but here, in the maze of dresses, tuxedos, and masks, I can’t tell who’s who.

They all blend together. There’s nothing distinctive about their appearances now, just the blur of masks that keep their identities hidden.

And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that these three, wearing dark suits and their own signature masks, are somehow different.

Wolf. Lion. Jester. Each one watches me with an intensity that could melt my mask.

At a masquerade ball like this, I should probably be cautious. But tonight, the air thrums with unspoken energy. The way my mask hides my face and the buzz of champagne and tequila settling in, the way it empowers me to be something more than just Leighton, makes me take another step forward.

“What can I get for you, miss?” the bartender asks, his voice smooth and low, breaking the silence like the soft pop of a cork.

Another sip of champagne. Just a little conversation.

Nothing more.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

The moment I open my mouth to answer the bartender, one of the men speaks.

“That’s a gorgeous dress, darlin’,” he says, voice like soft gravel, low, rumbly. “That red suits you all the way to the ground.”

I curtsy, mimicking something I’ve only seen in movies. “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s not,” he continues. Despite the full Jester’s mask of blue and ivory, I catch a glimpse of salt-and-pepper hair along his jawline. “It’s the damn truth. You’re collecting admirers tonight.”

A silver fox with a filthy mouth. Trouble never felt this good.

I glance around quickly, making sure he’s not attracting too much attention. The coast seems to be clear… for now, at least.

“And the ruby necklace is the perfect touch with your sparkly mask,” says Lion, his deep voice smooth as velvet beneath a brass lion’s face. “But it’s the woman wearing them who steals the breath from my lungs.”

Where Jester smiles, Lion roars, sharp fangs carved into the mask’s snarling face.

“Breathless, huh?” I tease, coiling a strand of hair around my finger as my lips curve into a smirk.

“That’s right,” he adds, clutching his chest theatrically, the unexpected silliness cracking through his confident aura and tugging a laugh from me.

“A friend helped pick it out,” I say. I tilt my head down, then peek up at him through my lashes, slowly licking my lips. His eyes immediately drop to my mouth.

Yeah, I saw that.

“Is your friend here tonight?” Lion asks.

I spin around, looking for Ava, but the motion dizzies me. Before I can right myself, a third man steadies me with warm, strong hands on my bare shoulders.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmurs. He wears a pewter wolf mask, his mouth fully visible, and clean-shaven beneath it. He smirks.

“No,” I answer, turning just enough to avoid his gaze. “Looks like she went home.” I pull my phone from my clutch and see a message from her.

Ava : Couldn’t find you. Heading home with Sven to kick my feet up. Levi and Eric are still hanging out somewhere. The limo will come back for you guys. Have fun! Xoxo.

I quickly type off a reply before turning my gaze toward Wolf.

“I love dresses like this,” Wolf says. “All that exposed skin and a slit riding up the thigh like an invitation.” His eyes glide along my arms, my collarbone, and linger in a way that sends shivers chasing down my spine.

“And those heels are killer,” Jester adds.

They are killer. As in, they’re killing my feet. I had to practice walking and dancing in these four-inch sequined stilettos before I committed to wearing them. And now? They feel like a punishment, but are worth every ounce of pain for the way they complete my look.

We’re near an abstract statue and a staff cart tucked into a small alcove. Wolf keeps glancing at it like he wants to pull me behind it, out of sight. His palms are on my shoulders again, confident, lingering.

Under different circumstances, I might feel uneasy surrounded by strangers.

But this isn’t like slinging drinks at a dive back home.

We’re visible here, and this is a high-profile event.

Classy. Safe. And more than anything, these men don’t feel dangerous.

Well, maybe just dangerous to my restraint.

It’s just harmless flirting. Okay, more like bold, intoxicating flirting. Maybe it’s the champagne. Or the tequila. Or the masks.

“Any of you care to dance?” I purr, owning this new, untamed version of myself.

“Mmm,” Lion growls. “I’ve got first dibs, sweetheart.”

I smirk, tucking my hair behind one shoulder. “Don’t worry, boys. I’ve got more than one dance left in me.”

Before we make our way to the dance floor, he surprises me, tracing a slow finger from my temple, over the mask, down the bridge of my nose… and across my bottom lip.

My breath catches, my nipples tightening instantly from the contact and from his piercing eyes, the only visible part of his face.

For a moment, dancing is the furthest thing from my mind.

His brown eyes lock onto mine—rich like a glass of aged Scotch, dark, golden, and intense—searing through the mask like they might burn it away.

Then, warm breath ghosts over my ear, just before teeth nip into my earlobe. I moan softly, involuntarily. It hurts, just a touch, but the wicked spark it sends racing through me is anything but unwelcome.

Wolf.

I want him to do it again, but harder this time.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, stepping back with slow, deliberate arrogance, arms folding across his chest like he knows exactly what he just did to me. That stance, all dominance and unspoken challenge, lights me up from the inside out. And the wet heat pooling in my lace panties says it all.

Jester takes a step closer, his voice low. “I’ve got plans for you, if you’re interested. Maybe a private corridor. A room. How bold are you feeling tonight, darlin’?”

His breath brushes my skin like a promise. His fingers graze my wrist, and even through the tux’s silk-weight fabric, I can feel the power of him. Everything about Jester makes me want to combust.

My thoughts boomerang around my brain at his words so much that I don’t know if I’m coming or going.

He’s too forward. He’s irresistible.

What are we doing? I don’t know.

I want this. Do I?

Yes. Yes, I do.

I want him wholeheartedly, unabashedly. Yet it feels risky.

Reckless. Like I’ve stripped off every inhibition and become something wild and feral, driven purely by instinct and a heat that’s clearly short-circuiting my reason.

I’m tangled in craving and chaos, and the thoughts rushing through my head drown out everything else.

And my desires? They’re absolutely greedy.

I tilt my head, tension humming between us, then I smirk. “Bold enough to make you regret asking.”

“Oh?” he says, intrigued. “Something tells me I’d never regret anything with you.”

Fortune favors the bold, right? Time to test that theory.

The good news is, if I had any doubts about slipping away with these three, now would be the time to bow out.

But I don’t. One by one, each man spins me across the floor.

Lion, then Wolf, then Jester. By the second round, I feel the pressure of their arousal pressing into my hip, discreet beneath tailored jackets.

I should be overwhelmed. Instead, I’m aching for more.

Every glance, every touch, every slow turn only makes me needier.

Wolf leans in. “Did you like that little nibble?”

His cock is hard against me, and I resist the urge to grind into him right there.

“Mm-hmm…” Words fail me.

“There’s more where that came from. Nibbles. Licks. Sucks. Every inch of your body… tongue to toes, thighs to throat. If you want it.”

God, I think it is. I’ve never had that. Never been worshipped like that.

With Lion, my pulse ticks up another notch. “Ever been with more than one man?”

I shake my head.

He whispers against my ear, “You’ll scream every time you come. And I promise, sweetheart, you’ll come a lot.”

By the time Jester leads me once more across the floor, I’m on the edge, desperate. His eyes catch my stare, a dangerous mix of challenge and promise in their depths. “So tell me. What makes you… come?”

Honestly, I don’t know. The one time I came, I was on top of my high school boyfriend, and it felt like a happy accident—unexpected, fleeting, almost confusing in its intensity.

After that, during those raw, rip-your-clothes-off dates in college, I kept chasing that high, desperate to feel it again.

But every time I thought I was getting close, when that delicious pressure started to build, the guy would finish first. Just like that, it was over.

My pleasure left dangling in the air, unsaid, unfinished.

And with so many roommates, experimenting with pleasuring myself wasn’t even an option.

My needs didn’t matter. I was too busy just trying to graduate.

I told myself freedom would come later. And maybe now… maybe now is that time.

So, I say nothing.

“I guess we’ll find out then," he chuckles, the sound smooth as warm whiskey. "Because I'm in the mood to make promises your body won't forget."

His eyes lock onto mine, burning with a wicked glint that drips temptation. My heart stutters. My body already knows the answer.

Yes. Yes to everything.

But I don’t answer. Instead, I slip my arm through his and let him lead me back to the bar, where Wolf and Lion are waiting.

When we reach them, Jester gives a small nod, a silent cue that it’s time to go.

He gently lowers my hand from his sleeve, a subtle gesture of decorum that contrasts with the possessive heat coiling low in my belly, ready to ignite into something fierce.

Whatever this is… it’s just for us. Discretion is everything, even though the masks do most of the work.

Mingling back into the crowd of people celebrating hockey and birthdays, we edge away from the bar and the dance floor. We slip down a side staircase near the foyer, but rather than heading for the front door, Lion veers off and guides us through a quiet corridor.

He leads with command. It fits.

As we descend into quieter territory, the energy between us becomes even more charged. Every step pulls me further into their spell. Their scents, their touches, the glances they throw my way… it sets a fire I can’t—and don’t want to—extinguish.

We weave through hallways lined with art, the kind of priceless pieces I make sure not to touch and ruin. The sounds of the party fade behind us, until there’s only the hush of our footsteps.

Jester halts my stride briefly, pinning me against the wall with effortless control.

One strong arm lifts my leg around his waist, anchoring me in place.

He doesn’t rush, his moss-green eyes roaming my face like he’s committing every flicker of longing to memory.

Then he dips his head, his tongue drawing a slow, deliberate line along my collarbone.

My toes curl inside my heels, a breathy gasp escaping my mouth before I can catch it.

He covers my mouth with his broad palm, eyes lit with silent laughter and something darker, something ravenous.

“Careful, darlin’. You keep making those sounds, and I might just have to take you in this hallway,” he whispers into my ear.

God, I don’t even care anymore. Just do it. “What if I want you to?”

A deep, sinful chuckle rumbles from his chest, and I feel his dick twitch against my core, torching every nerve ending. “Mmm. Mouth like that’s gonna get you in trouble.’’

"Is that a promise?"

His eyes burn with a silent vow as he slowly brushes a finger down my lips, then gently releases my leg and threads his fingers through mine as we continue down the path.

Wolf brings up the rear, ever vigilant, his gaze sweeping the shadows, while Lion scouts ahead like a king claiming his territory, confident, commanding, the kind of man who’s used to getting exactly what he wants.

We finally stop at a series of doors. The first three are locked. The fourth swings open. Without a word, we step inside, and Wolf closes the door behind us.

The reality of my situation lands on me like a ton of bricks. I’m really doing this. And I’m here for every scandalous minute of it.