Page 34 of Her Puck Daddies

The unforgiving sound of fabric tearing fills the air, and it’s only then that I realize he’s already yanked my shirt over my head.

No bra. No panties. Just bare, exposed skin and the breath he takes at the sight of me.

The heat between us crackles, tangible, electric, making me forget everything—where we are, what this means, who I’m even with.

All I know is that I want it. And I’m done denying it.

“God, yes…”

Why he hasn’t stripped down since stepping back into his room is beyond me. Too much clothing. Too many damn barriers. All I wantis to see this man naked, to feel him, taste him, have him against me with nothing in the way.

I pull his tie off in one swift motion, and finally, his perfect torso is in front of me.

For a moment, I just stare, drinking him in.

Sure, I see his body—and every other player’s—on a regular basis, but when they’re on my massage table, I force myself to keep that professional distance. I have to.

But right now? That professionalism is long gone.

I lean in, dragging my tongue in a slow, wet line across his collarbone, tasting his skin as the heat of him melts on my tongue.

“Fuck, Ava…” he mutters, voice thick, raw.

And god, hearing my name spill from his lips like that makes me weak in the knees.

But at the same time? It makes me feel powerful. And I have no intention of wasting it.

I yank him closer by the waist, urging him to stand, and he does, but not without pulling me up with him. His hands explore me, his gaze raking over every inch of my body like he’s starving for it, for me.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growls in my ear, pulling me flush against him, my bare tits pressed against his solid, heated abdomen. “I’ve wanted you again since the second I stepped into your massage room.”

If I had panties on, they would’ve melted right off.

“I need you,” I whisper, and the moment the words leave my lips, his hands trail down my back and grabs a handful of my ass with a force that makes me crave him even more. He squeezes it harder, pulling me against him, letting me feel just how hard he is, his thick length pressing against my belly, hot and demanding beneath his pants.

I reach for his waistband, fingers grazing his skin as I undo his trousers with torturous slowness, dragging out every second, savoring every inch of anticipation. When the zipper slides down, I peel the fabric away, let it drop, watching as layer by layer, I strip him of everything that separates him from me.

And then, damn. My gaze drops to him. Long. Thick. Exquisite.

Even though I’ve seen him like this before, the sight still makes my breath hitch. He’s devastatingly gorgeous, every sculpted inch of him radiating raw, masculine power. Sven’s dick is the biggest of the three—the one that stretches me to my limit, fills me to the brink of delirium, and leaves me unraveling from the inside out.

I’ve relived the memory of him inside me countless times since the last time we were together, but nothing—nothing—compares to seeing him like this again.

Hard. Ready.Mine.

He twists me around, pressing my spine against the unforgiving ridges of his chest, his hands going straight to my tits. He palms them, squeezes, rolling my nipples between his fingers until they’re achingly tight, little buds straining for more.

I let out a ragged moan, head falling back against his shoulder. “Mmm—yes.”

“Yes, what?” he demands, his grip tightening until I gasp, until the sharp pleasure and anticipation of what’s to come has me arching into him, panting against his throat.

“Yes, Daddy…” I rasp, barely able to get the words out before he snaps.

Whatever restraint he had is gone. With a rough shove, he pushes me onto the bed so that I’m on my belly, and when I glance over my shoulder at him, his smile is nothing short of feral.

“Are you ready to be my good girl?”

I don’t hesitate. I don’t beg. I command.