Double Score
K.L. Grayson
Copyright © 2018 by K.L. Grayson, INC. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photography, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright laws. For permission requests, email [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely incidental.
Edited by: Literally Addicted to Detail
Cover Design: Kari March Designs
Contents
1. Emma
2. Emma
3. Emma
4. Emma
5. Ryan
6. Emma
7. Ryan
8. Grant
9. Emma
10. Emma
11. Grant
12. Emma
13. Emma
Epilogue
K.L. Grayson
BONUS
His to Claim
1
Emma
“Are you crazy?”
Blowing a chunk of hair out of my eyes, I look up at Daisy. My baby sister isn’t a baby anymore. At twenty-two, she’s the prettiest, sweetest, most opinionated person I know. And she needs to learn to keep those opinions to herself.
“What?” I ask, my eyes drifting to the black, one-piece bathing suit hanging from her finger.
She scrunches her nose. “Come on, Emma. You’re not actually going to bring this, are you?”
“Of course, I am. What’s wrong with it?”
“Everything. Everything is wrong with it. It’s so...”—she drags the word out before settling on—“not sexy.”
“I don’t need to be sexy. I’m going skiing with friends. I probably won’t even need the suit.”
“You do need to be sexy. In case you’ve forgotten, your best friends are two of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen. And trust me, you’ll need a suit. Your room at the lodge has a private hot tub. Although it’s not really a room, it’s a giant suite.”
“How do you know?”
She shrugs. “I looked it up.” I roll my eyes, and she holds up her hands. “What? I’m just looking out for you.”
“I don’t need you to look out for me. I’m the big sister, I should be the one looking out for you,” I say, shoving an extra pair of thermal pants into my bag.
Because nothing says sexy like thermal underwear, flannel pajamas, and a non-flattering one-piece. I bet if Daisy were packing a bag, it would be filled with sexy lingerie and a cute little string bikini.
“You’re three years older. And you do look out for me, but it’s time you accept that you’re the brainy athlete, and I’m the social fashionista. It’s my job to make sure you’re prepared for any and every situation that could land you in bed with Ryan and Grant.”
Daisy is right; she’s always been the social one—the one that men flock to. All she has to do is smile or laugh or twist a lock of her platinum blond hair, and they come running.
I look up. “I’m not going to end up in bed with Ryan and Grant.”
“We’ll see about that.” She winks. “Rumor has it, they share women.” She whispers the words as if Ryan and Grant are in the room and she doesn’t want them to overhear us. When I don’t immediately discredit her, Daisy’s eyes widen. “Oh my gosh,” she hisses. “They do. They totally share women.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Because it’s none of your business. It’s not even my business. Plus, if I would’ve told you, you probably would’ve tried to be the next cream filling in their yummy cookie sandwich.”
Her face sobers, and she frowns. “You really think I would’ve tried to get in bed with them?”
“It’s not that. It’s just…you’re their type, and I don’t think you’d have to try very hard.”
Daisy and I look nothing alike. She looks like her father—my stepfather—with high cheekbones and flawless features. I, on the other hand, have a thick mop of jet-black hair and big, fat lips that look way too large for my face—features from a nameless man who served as a sperm donor in the middle of a Jimmy Buffet concert. Needless to say, the only trait Daisy and I share is our bright blue eyes, courtesy of our mother.
“Then you don’t know your friends very well. They wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole.”
God, I would hope not, because that would kill me. I’ve loved those boys since the first grade when they beat up Derek Keller for stealing my unicorn pencil. I always thought I’d end up marrying Ryan or Grant, but I tossed that dream out the window when I realized that I’d never be able to choose between the two.
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve seen the way they look at you. And I would never do that to you.”
My eyes widen. “To me?”
“Yeah. Because you’re in love with them.”
“I love them, yes, but it’s strictly platonic.”
“No.” She shakes her head and puts my swimsuit back into my drawer. “It’s more than that, and the sooner you realize it, the better off the three of you will be.”
“I’m so confused. The sooner I realize…what?”
Daisy picks up a tattered soccer ball lying next to my bed. She volleys it between her hands and then, without warning, chucks it at my head. “Open your eyes.”
My cat-like reflexes assure that I catch the ball before it hits my face. “What was that for?”
“Soccer is over. For good.”
“I know that,” I say, looking longingly at the black-and-white ball that brought me so much joy over the years.
“All you’ve seen for the past four years is that ball.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. You gave one hundred and ten percent of yourself to your team and your classes. And it paid off. You had a successful soccer career, graduated at the top of your class, and you have a great job lined up with one of the town’s top accounting firms. Oh, and you have two incredibly sexy men who have waited patiently for you to live out your dream. They’ve stuck by you every step of the way, and they look at you with a hunger that I can only hope a man turns my way someday. And you’ve got two of them. Two,” she says, holding up two fingers as if I don’t know how to count. “They’ve been waiting for you, Emma, and this is your chance to be with them.”
“Stop it, Daisy. You’re just a hopeless romantic. They’ve hardly been waiting on me.” I know that for a fact because they’ve dated more girls than I’ve scored goals.
And I’ve scored a lot of goals.
“Really? Who was the last girl either of them dated?”
I open my mouth but come up empty.
“Exactly. In case you were wondering, they haven’t dated anyone. Not a single girl in over a year.”
“That can’t be true.” I know I’ve seen them with different girls here or there. At least I think I have. To be honest, I was always preoccupied, and now that I try to conjure up a memory, I can’t.
“It’s true. They haven’t dated anyone. And now, all of a sudden, you’ve graduated, soccer is over, and they’re whisking you away to a gorgeous getaway in the mountains. Coincidence? I think not.”
“Would you stop,” I whine, trying desperately not to read too much int
o her words. But oh, how I want to delve into them.
All of the feelings I’ve been pushing away over the years slowly inch their way to the surface, and I could punch Daisy in the throat because I want to enjoy this weekend. I want to relax and have fun, and now, all I’m going to be thinking about is whether or not she’s right.
This is ridiculous.
I will not let myself fall victim to Daisy’s romantic notion, no matter how badly I wish it were true. She’s just delirious, probably from all the time she spends in the tanning bed.
Before I zip up my bag, I toss a dress and a pair of heels into it just in case we go out for dinner while we’re there.
“I’m not going to sleep with Ryan and Grant. They haven’t been waiting for me. I’m just their tomboy best friend who grew up in the house between theirs. And they’re hardly whisking me away. I’m sure there will be more than just us there.”
“Who else is going?”
“I don’t know. Ryan and Grant planned it. I didn’t—”
The doorbell rings, cutting me off, and Daisy jumps from the bed.
“I’ll get it.”
“No, you won’t,” I say, grabbing her wrist. “I’ll get it. You stay here. Put my swimsuit back into my bag, and while you’re at it, toss in a towel.”
She looks at my bag and frowns. “Fine. Go. I’ll be right there.”
The doorbell rings again, and I run down the hall, skidding to a stop in the entryway as I fling open the door.
“There’s our college graduate.” Ryan dips low and scoops me into his arms, spinning me in the doorway before setting me on my feet. His big, strong hands hold me until he’s certain I’m steady, and then he steps back, allowing Grant to swoop in for a hug.
“Are you ready to celebrate?” Grant’s arms wrap around me like a vice, and I’m hyperaware of the fact that all of our best body parts are now perfectly aligned. Like our lips and hearts and his cock.
Whoa.
Where in the hell did that come from?
“Daisy.” I growl her name just as the woman skips into the room.
“Here’s your bag.” She thrusts the red duffle bag into Ryan’s arms and steps back. “Take good care of my sister.”
Grant keeps an arm around my shoulders and smiles at Daisy. They’ve always been friends, but they’re not as close to her as they are me. “Always,” he agrees, looking down at me. “Do you have everything you need?”
“I think so. Did you put my swimsuit in there?” I ask Daisy.
“The tiny red one? I’m not sure I’d consider that scrap of material a swimsuit, but it’s in there. I also packed a box of condoms and your vibrator.”
Grant’s arm stiffens.
Daisy’s smile widens.
I sputter, my eyes nearly bulging out of my head.
“Daisy.” I try to scold her but I’m stunned speechless, and the only thing coming out of my mouth is an unintelligible squeak.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” She turns her sugary sweet smile on Ryan. “She’s got a few cobwebs down on the south side, so I told her to find a sexy ski instructor and take a ride on his snowboard. If you know what I mean.”
I narrow my gaze. What are you up to?
She winks and tosses me my coat.
Grant catches it and holds it out for me to shrug on. When my arms are in, he spins me around, zips it up and pulls the hood over my head. For a second, I feel like a child being taken care of by her parent. But then I look up into Grant’s piercing green eyes and, suddenly, the gesture seems much more intimate.
“If you take a ride on anyone’s snowboard, it’s going to be one of ours,” he murmurs loud enough for both Ryan and me to hear.
“All right, you three have fun.” Daisy holds the door open and waits for the guys to lead me out, and when I turn around to scowl at her, she blows me a kiss.
“You can thank me later,” she whispers.
I don’t know about that. What I really want to do is strangle her for implanting these images in my head—visions of my two best friends and me doing all sorts of filthy things to each other. Instead, I grin and follow Ryan and Grant to the car.
2
Emma
“I’m going to kill you,” I whisper-hiss into the phone the next morning.
“Because they ripped your body in two when they tried DP? I should’ve warned you to work your way up to that. You always have been an overachiever.”
What the hell is she talking about? “DP?”
“Double penetration. Put a C in the V and a C in the A, and you’ll get one giant, toe-curling O.”
“Are you even speaking English right now?”
“Oh my gosh, Emma, get with the program.” Daisy sighs. “A cock in the vagina and a cock in the ass. Double penetration. Everyone’s doing it.”
That just sounds painful. “You’re a virgin. What could you possibly know about double penetration?”
“But I’m a virgin who watches lots of porn and reads tons of dirty books. I know these things.”
Maybe I need to check out some of the books she’s reading. “There was no double penetration.”
“That’s okay, one cock at a time is probably all you can handle. You can work your way up to two. Don’t get discouraged, and remember to use lots of lube.”
“There wasn’t any penetration, and there won’t be any because you were wrong,” I shout, quickly covering my mouth because the last thing I want is for one of the guys to hear me.
She scoffs. “I highly doubt that. I’m rarely wrong.”
“Well you were this time, and now things are awkward and—”
“Everything okay in there?” Ryan hollers from the other room.
“Is that Ryan?” Daisy asks. “Let me talk to him.”
“Hell. No. You’ve done enough. Goodbye.” I hang up on Daisy before she has a chance to argue and then turn the ringer off because I know she’ll try to call back, and I’m really not in the mood to talk to her.
Ryan walks toward me and crosses his arms over his chest. “You okay?”
“Peachy.” I toss my phone onto the counter, walk across the room, and yank open the blinds for the hundredth time to confirm that the roads are, in fact, still covered from the mini-blizzard that dumped nearly a foot of snow in four hours last night. There’s no possible way for me to make an escape.
Damnit.
I’m going to be stuck here for another night with these two, and I hate that I’m not excited about it. I haven’t gotten to spend a lot of one-on-one time with them lately, and I should be looking forward to it. Instead, I’m trying to figure out a way to leave early.
Something shifted between the three of us last night, something I can’t quite explain, and it all started with Daisy and that itty-bitty, red bikini she snuck into my bag.
I guess I can’t blame it all on the swimsuit because it also involved champagne at dinner, one too many shots of tequila, a hot tub, and a game of truth or dare gone horribly wrong. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Daisy yesterday, but I’ll be damned if her words didn’t spark something inside of me—something I’d forced myself to repeatedly bury over the years.
Feelings.
Feelings I shouldn’t have because I know better than to lust over my best friends. Not only did we grow up together but our parents are also close. And let’s not forget that I’m the complete opposite of any woman the two of them have chased after. And when I say the two of them, I mean exactly that. Because Daisy was right. Ryan and Grant are notorious for sharing women, and it’s been that way for as long as I can remember.
But they’ve never shared me.
I’d thought that might change last night.
I was wrong.
With my inky black hair, small chest, and thighs thick enough to cause a rumble of thunder every time I walk, I’ve never been in the running. Everyone knows that Ryan and Grant are into blondes. Tall, leggy blondes with more ass than I’ve got cellulite, and racks that could impress e
ven the best plastic surgeon.
But I’m not jealous. Nope, not one bit. I’m proud of my body, and up until my little run-in with Ryan and Grant last night, not once has a man complained about my curves. Okay, my friends didn’t exactly complain last night either, but what else was I supposed to think?
We’d arrived at Lake Wapello Lodge, checked into our suite, cracked open a bottle of champagne over dinner, and I thought things were going well. They were flirting, I was flirting, and when we ended up in the hot tub with a bottle of tequila, I figured that maybe Daisy had been right.
They dared me to take off my top—something they did many times throughout our teenage years—and I had just enough alcohol in my system to say fuck it. I pulled the string and let the triangular flaps fall from my chest. What happened next can only be described as any girl’s worst nightmare.
Ryan sputtered, choking on his beer; Grant cursed and looked away; and a second later, they fled from the hot tub like nuns from a whorehouse.
I watched their tight asses run across the patio, and when they disappeared inside, I did what any respectable, confident woman would do. I finished off the entire bottle of tequila—topless—and then went to bed with Sergio, my trusty vibrator. And I wasn’t at all quiet about how well I enjoyed Sergio’s ministrations. Inevitably, I regretted that decision this morning. But I’m a big girl, I’ll own it.
“Would you quit checking the window and get your ass back in here?” Ryan says, walking back to the main room.
Daisy was right. This isn’t a hotel room. It’s like a mini house in the mountains. There are three full bedrooms and an open floor plan in the living area with a state of the art kitchen. A large, cozy couch and loveseat look out over floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase the gorgeous, snow-covered mountains. One would think the mountain view is the best part, but it’s not. The best part is the bathroom with its large, claw-foot tub and walk-in shower with not one, not two, but three showerheads.
Double Score Page 1
