by Madison Faye
That’s not to say, that I didn’t sometimes “forget” to wear panties around the office - especially when ladders were involved.
It also didn’t mean that anything changed in the dynamic we all had. I loved how dominant, and rough, and unbelievably sexy my two men were. They were fierce, both in the board room and in the bedroom, and while I was their equal in the former, I was their plaything in the latter.
And God did I love that arrangement.
Besides some shaken nerves, everyone in the office was fine after the brutal attack. Mark was as misled and as foolish as always in his “plan” to rob the company - for one, that it’s not like a company like that kept cash lying around like some sort of bank or something out of a movie. And for two, because he wildly underestimated the two “CEO-types” who ran the place. He ended up going to prison, along with the four goons he’d brought along.
Alls well that ends well, and our story does end well. Because two might be a couple, but three is a family.
And our family is only going to get bigger. We haven’t tested or anything to see who’s it is yet, but we also don’t care. Whoever the “biological” father of our first ends up being, the child will be all three of ours.
And until then? Well, I’ve found that pregnancy makes me insatiable, and as it happens, I’ve got two very insatiable men who can’t wait to get their hands on me. Me and my baby belly.
It might not be the family that everyone thinks you should have, but it’s exactly what we want, and what we need. Just me, and my two hot, dominant, wonderful bosses.
The End
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Also by Madison Faye
“Twice” Series:
Twice Driven
Twice Bossed
Twice Tackled
“First Time” Series:
Legal
Professor
Freshman
Baby It’s Cold: A Holiday Short
About the Author
Madison Faye is the dirty alter ego of the very wholesome, very normal suburban housewife behind the stories. While she might be a wife, mom, and PTA organizer on the outside, there’s nothing but hot, streamy, and raunchy fantasies brewing right beneath the surface!
Tired of keeping them hidden inside or only having them come out in the bedroom, they’re all here in the form of some wickedly hot stories. Single-minded alpha heroes, sinfully taboo relationships, and wildly over-the-top scenarios. If you love it extra dirty, extra hot, and extra naughty, this is the place for you!
(Just don’t tell the other PTA members you saw her here…)
Twice Tackled
We’re a two-man team, she’s the goal, and we never lose a game…
Kerri
I may be attending Texas’s biggest football college, but I am not into sports. I’m here to learn and read books, not watch grown men hit each other over a stupid ball.
Of course, that’s before my chance encounter with the two biggest players on the team.
They’re rough, panty-meltingly gorgeous, and totally wrong for me…
And I want them both.
Tucker/Russ
Lifes good at the top. Fame, fortune, woman - we’ve got it all, or at least, everyone tells us we do. But even if we can’t place it, something’s missing.
And then we meet Kerri Larson.
She’s all wrong for us - smart, sassy, not into sports and not remotely interested in the guys who play ‘em.
And that might be exactly what’s so f*cking hot about her.
Maybe it’s cause we love a good challenge, or maybe it’s cause we’d love to show her that everything really is bigger in Texas.
The thing is, we’re a two-man team on and off the field…
Game on.
Copyright © 2016 Madison Faye
All rights reserved.
Editing: Sennah Tate
Cover: White Rabbit Creative
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.
This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.
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Chapter 1
Kerri
“Oh my God, just have a drink.”
I made a face and quickly shook my head as Jen tried to push the bottle of pineapple rum into my hands. “Really, I’m okay.”
Jen huffed and turned back to my roommate Ashley. “Seriously, your roommate needs to learn how to hang if you’re going to keep bringing her around.”
I could feel my cheeks heat as I frowned at the sneering brunette and the bitchy look on her face. Over Jen’s shoulder, I could see Ash shaking her head at me, rolling her eyes and giving me a ‘just ignore her’ look.
“I have a test tomorrow,” I said heatedly, wondering for the tenth time why I’d even bothered to come out with Ash to her college varsity cheer-squad “get-together”. I should have just gone to the track for a late-night run like I planned.
“Get-together” in this case meant a bunch of catty, snobby girls drinking on the bleachers of the empty stadium. Okay, some of the girls were fine, like my roommate Ashley. But then there were the other ones — the ones who took the whole cheerleading hierarchy thing entirely too seriously.
“I mean honestly, this is why we say cheer-squad only, Ash,” Jen said flippantly, brushing her hair back and bringing the bottle of booze back to her lips.
Seriously, WHY am I even here? I grumbled to myself before the voice inside peeped up.
Because Ash is right, you need to get out more.
I frowned, because I knew it was true. There I was, a college sophomore who had gone to exactly zero parties, made out with exactly zero boys, and gotten drunk exactly — you guessed it — zero times. Of course the fact that I had a 4.1 GPA, glowing feedback from professors, and three internship offers even after only a year and change into my college career didn’t seem to matter. Not when you’re young, and in college, and apparently supposed to be using your time to get drunk and make bad decisions.
But I didn’t get the point of bad decisions. I mean the whole idea of making a mistake is that you learn from it. But me? I looked at even the option of making a bad choice, thought it through, looked at the possible outcomes and then neatly avoided the messiness of making it in the f
irst place. Calculated, scientific, rational — perfect reasoning for a fast-tracked honors bio-chemistry student.
Of course, the other way of looking at it was that I was just a huge nerd. I could tell myself it was because I was “above” all this silly college partying nonsense, but the truth of it was that years of books, and studying, and memorizing chemistry foundations hadn’t exactly done wonders for my social life.
Shocking, I know.
And it was with that in mind that I occasionally let Ash wear me down and talk me into coming out from time to time. We’d been roommates since freshman year — somehow fast friends despite her being the sporty cheerleader type. But she didn’t care about me being the book nerd with glasses and maybe one too many Doctor Who posters on my wall than a college girl should have.
We evened each other out. I got her to focus on grades, and she got me, well, out. Still, it didn’t mean I was going to drink on a school night. And in any case, I was on my way to go for a run anyways.
That’s another thing Ash had done for me - made me realize that not all sports were as dumb and pointless as I’d always thought of them. Yes, things like football were still very much in the “stupid and pointless” category in my head, but I had decided that running was something I was into. Maybe not enough to go out and join the track team — like I even had time for that — but enough that going for a jog just felt good. It got me up from my desk, got my heart going, and-
My musings were suddenly interrupted by shushing from the cheer girls around me.
“Ooo, showtime!” A girl named Heather giggled out.
I turned around to see what she was pointing to down on the field, and quickly turned red as I rolled my eyes at myself.
Jogging out from the sidelines were two guys in cleats, compression shorts, and muscle shirts. And while I wanted to be able to say I had no idea who these two neanderthal jocks were — that they were just some dumb college athlete types out showing off their muscles — that wasn’t quite true.
Because I did know who they were. I knew exactly who they were.
In fairness, everyone knew who Tucker Morgan and Russ Whitley were. You’d have to be deaf and blind, and maybe even dead to not know who the two “kings of the school” were on this campus. Sure, I’d picked Alamo State for it’s amazing science programs, but ninety percent of the rest of school chose it for one thing: Longhorns football.
Me? I couldn’t have cared less about football and the idiotic deity worship the players seemed to get all over the place for it. Except…
I blushed again as I watched the two guys start to toss a football between them. Tucker had that Americana “heart of the country” type look — the blonde hair, the flashing grey-blue eyes, and that grin right off a billboard. Russ was his slightly rougher-around-the edges brooding tall-dark and handsome counterpart.
God. I wish I could say I was different than the rest of the girls in this school. I wished that I could claim immunity to the two men winding back to throw the ball down the field. I mean that was my “thing”, right? The science geek who was not amused or taken by the two smug, charming football jocks who dropped panties wherever they went.
Except that was a lie — a damn dirty lie.
Because I was not immune to them — not at all.
I told myself it was just human chemistry — biology from millions of years of evolution that drew me to the two strong-jawed, chiseled-muscled men I was watching at that very moment. That’s all it was, I said to myself. It was stupid evolution, and my inner biology screaming that either of these males would make good “mates”.
It was ridiculous, and I knew it. But knowing that sure as hell didn’t stop me from getting warm all over whenever either of them was near. I knew Tucker from one of the upperclassmen chemistry classes I was taking. I was surprised to see him on the first day, and I’d gotten impossibly red when he’d grinned at me that once. I told myself it was silly. He was probably in there on some special jock program — some sort of class-padding to make it look like he was there for more than just football.
And that grin?
Nothing special. Tucker Morgan grinned at every girl like that.
Russ and I had a math class together and it was the same thing — the distractingly attractive dark-haired guy slouched in the back. I was entirely sure he was there just to appease some sort of college ball rules
…Until he started answering questions correctly without being called on.
But none of that mattered. My stupid, ridiculous little schoolgirl crushes on them were just that — stupid, and ridiculous. These two were jock royalty — the epitome of the things I rolled my eyes at, and nothing I wanted anything to do with.
Which…did not explain why I was staring at them that very moment, feeling my cheeks get even redder as I realized how hot I was getting in places I shouldn’t have been getting hot.
God, they were gorgeous. Of course, me being me, I’d never actually talked to either of them. Of course I hadn’t — that was the whole point of a stupid crush — to roll your eyes at yourself as you thought nauseatingly stupid thoughts about a person you had no business thinking about like that.
Or persons.
“Yes. Please.” I rolled my eyes as Jen meowed behind me. The guys on the field started to jog around, tossing a ball back and forth, keeping their audience captive.
Tucker ran back and tossed a long pass to Russ, before turning towards us huddled up on the bleachers, giving the whole gaggle of cheerleaders a quick grin. Drunk giggling ensued.
God, and here I was right in the middle of them like just some other stupid, fawning girl, falling all over herself about the two “sports stars”.
“Hey,” I tugged Ashley’s sleeve and jerked my head. “I’m gonna get that run in before I have to go finish preparing for tomorrow’s test.”
She nodded. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”
I gave her a look as Jen said something shrill that cascaded into air-headed giggles while she grinned back at me.
“Hey, wasn’t a total loss, now was it?” She winked as she nodded at the two football guys.
I looked away before she could see my cheeks flush again.
“See you back at the room!”
I took a brief, cursory stretch at the bottom of the stairs before I took off around the 3200 meter track that ran around the perimeter of the football field. As I ran, I forced myself to count breaths, to monitor my pulse and my steps — to think about the chemistry stuff I had to go over later for tomorrow’s test.
…All of it to keep myself from turning to watch Tucker and Russ, who’d now stripped shirtless as they ran through complex-looking maneuvers. And I knew all this, because my attempt at not watching them was failing.
Miserably.
They’re just dumb jock meat-heads.
I kept telling myself that, like it was going to cure the pulsing heat pouring through my body every time I caught a flash of sweaty bare chest, or muscled arms rippling under the stadium lights. Just dumb jocks. Hot, criminally attractive, stupidly handsome jocks, with smiles that made my panties warm and bodies that muscled their way into my dreams.
But still, dumb jocks nonetheless.
Nothing I should have any interest in whatsoever.
I kept telling myself that until my lungs started to burn and I stopped to head back for the gym locker room.
Chapter 2
Tucker
We were supposed to be running through passing plays. The whole reason for these late-night drills with Russ and I was to make sure our plays and our connections were damn-well air-tight for this season. Hell, with three division titles and one national championship since we’d joined as freshman, we were looking to make our senior year season one for the damn record books.
Except shit was not going the way it was supposed to.
We had our roles, and our rules, Russ and I. We’d been a fucking two-man hit squad since we’d gotten picked up out of high school. Me, the q
uarterback with the golden arm, and Russ the brick-house that could catch a lit bomb. I shoot, he knocks em down. I call down the thunder, he reaps the whirlwind.
Except that night? That night we were fucking shit up big time.
It wasn’t just me either. Sure, I was tossing like a blind man, but Russ was out there running half-assed plays and missing catches my grandma could get a piece of.
And I knew damn well why.
“Why” was about five-foot-four and blonde, with full, juicy tits and an ass to fucking die for crammed into those hot little running shorts. “Why” had taken it upon herself to start running distance laps around the football field on that track while we were trying to practice. “Why” was capturing our attention in dangerous ways, making us miss plays, miss passes, miss the damn world around us.
And I couldn’t speak for Russ, but “why” had my cock fucking hard as a rock in my shorts.
I sort of knew her, but I wasn’t even sure where from. And no, not like that.
I wished.
Russ and I were fucking gods of campus. We could and did have our pick of any chick we wanted. And hell had we gone through ‘em. It was almost silly. Two guys like us? At this football-obsessed university?
“Shooting fish in a barrel” didn’t quite do it justice.
It felt like we were damn kings. Being co-captains of the Longhorns did wonders. All those shiny trophies we brought home sure as hell didn’t hurt. But the NFL knocking on our doors trying to get us to commit to what we were doing next year?
Yeah, girls by the dozen.