by Mia Moon
As Rex called the cops, I punched the guy again for good measure, so hard that he blacked out with a gurgle. Samantha moaned and shuddered a sob. I looked up at her, trying to choke back emotion at seeing her in such pain.
“We will never let anyone do this to you, ever again,” I whispered fiercely. I wanted to go to her, soothe her, love her. But I didn’t want the guy — her ex, I assumed — to wake up and slip away. I pressed a knee to his chest and spit in his face.
“Mr. Grimes, Samantha suffered a broken orbital bone, a broken rib and has some internal bleeding. Right now she’s resting comfortably. She’ll need to be in the hospital for a couple of days. After that, does she have someone who can care for her? Family? Friends? A boyfriend?”
Rex, Shaun and I glanced at each other. She’s got three of them, as far as we’re concerned.
“We’re her close friends,” I said to the doctor in a clipped tone. “We’ll take care of her.”
The doctor, an older woman with kind brown eyes, touched my shoulder. “I heard from the officers about how you boys found her. Most women aren’t so lucky. I’m glad she has friends like you.”
“Can we see her? Just for a few minutes, doc? Just to make sure she’s okay?” Shaun piped up.
The doctor nodded. “Come this way.”
She led us down a corridor and pauses in front of a salmon-colored door. “Just don’t be alarmed by all the tubes. It’s worse than it looks.”
The doctor pushed the door open and pointed inside, indicating that the three of us could file in. We do, and it took all I could muster not to sink to my knees in both anger and gratitude.
Anger that Samantha’s ex husband would hurt her to this degree. Gratitude that he was behind bars now, that she lived, that we were there to save her, that she was in our lives to begin with.
Rex was clenching his jaw so tight that I can see the muscles in his face bunch up. Shaun’s hands were balled into fists and he inhales long.
“I’ll give you a moment,” the doctor said. “Please don’t wake her.”
The three of us stood there, staring at our beautiful, broken angel. Her golden hair was spread over the white hospital pillow, and a nasty purple bruise had bloomed around her right eye. Her arm was attached to an IV drip and other unidentifiable tubes.
“We need to take care of her,” Rex said quietly.
Shaun nodded.
“I’ll do anything,” I said.
“Do you think…” Shaun’s voice trailed off.
Rex and I looked at him and raised our eyebrows.
“If she wanted to, if you two wanted to, do you think we could all live at my place? At least try it out?” He stepped forward and stroked her left hand. “I think it would be good for her.”
“I’d be willing to try,” Rex said. “We’ll have to set some ground rules.”
I took a breath. “It’s not what I anticipated a relationship would look like. But I’m also willing to give it a shot. I love her. I know you two love her. We always have.”
They nodded in tandem.
“Love her so much,” Shaun whispered.
“Agreed. And I feel this need to protect her,” Rex said.
Just then, Samantha stirred. “Mmmph,” she groaned, her eyes fluttering open.
We all clustered around her, lightly touching her frail, bruised arm. “Shh,” I said. “We’re here. We’re not going to leave you. Ever.”
Epilogue
three years later
Samantha
It was our anniversary, and we were in Taylor’s Mercedes SUV, having just finished the most delicious meal at the hottest steakhouse in Austin.
As always, I was in the passenger seat — no matter whose car we were in, I always rode shotgun — and I was buzzed, not from wine, but from the romantic weekend they’d planned.
I’d never anticipated being the girlfriend of three men. Hell, after my ex, I never dreamed I’d even meet one decent guy. But ever since the day I was attacked and put in the hospital, Taylor, Shaun and Rex hadn’t left my side. They’d been there when I graduated from college, and had sat with me in court while I watched Zack get sentenced to a twenty-five year prison term.
They’d cooked dinner when I’d gotten the full-time job doing art therapy at a battered women’s shelter in a nearby town.
We’d all moved into Shaun’s big house. It should’ve been weird and awkward, should have been strange and foreign. But it wasn’t. Somehow, everything worked smoothly. Oh, there were times that our schedules clashed or someone was a bit jealous, but we’d set some house rules.
We all had our own bedrooms. I slept with a different guy every night, and the fourth night was mine alone. The fifth night, if I wanted, was the time we all played together.
Night Five, we called it.
Tonight, our anniversary, was a Night Five.
And we were headed to an expensive suite at a boutique hotel in downtown Austin. When the four of us stepped in the packed elevator, my panties were already wet thinking about what we’d do when we got to the penthouse.
We filed into the suite, one by one, and tonight, they had their plan.
Rex blindfolded me. Shaun took off my red dress and literally tore my underwear off my body. The ripping sound of the fabric made my pussy gush like a waterfall, and I looked longingly at the giant bed draped in red and black satin.
“Bed, now,” growled Taylor, and someone carried me to it.
My hands went over my head and I felt the silk ties around my wrists. My legs were spread and my ankles anchored with more silk ties.
One man penetrated my cunt, while another eased into my tight, puckered back hole. It was hours of hands, tongues, diamond-hard cocks. They filled me with sperm and love. Caresses and orgasms.
The whispered words of adoration and love, and the never-ending feeling that finally, finally, I’d found exactly what I was looking for, in my three best friends.
THE END
Thank you for reading ALL FOR ONE!
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POWER PLAY: A Reverse Harem Hockey Romance
I stared down at my phone, suddenly self-conscious of where I was, what I was wearing, my entire existence.
I was in the right place, right time, but it felt strange, off-kilter. I tucked the cell into my jacket pocket and tried to psych myself up by remembering why I was here.
Ken Miller.
Just thinking his name made me shiver. The cute kid I’d crushed on so hard in high school was the sexy man I was here to see. The pro hockey player whose face graced magazine covers across the country. The guy I never dreamed I’d have a shot with…
And all because I’d drank too much wine one night last year and messaged him on Facebook.
That one message became the beginning of a renewed friendship. One where I felt on equal footing, or at least it seemed that way online.
Across the safety net of cyber chats—no video chats, I wasn’t that comfortable—I could joke and be subtly flirty. I could be clever and tease him about our long-lost high school days. When I'd struck up that conversation I didn’t think he’d respond.
I certainly didn’t predict that he’d remember me, or be so eager to reconnect.
Back when I’d first messaged Ken, I couldn’t have imagined taking a job offer in Colorado and ending up in his stomping grounds. But the new position was twenty thousand dollars more a year, in a place that wasn’t Silicon Valley expensive.
Ken Miller was merely a bonus. So I accepted and moved from the Golden State to the Mile High City. Why not? I didn’t have anything to lose. I was young, single and a minimalist.
Of course I’d have to hang out with Ken. For old time’s sake. Never mind that my social skills were at their best behind a computer screen. Upon moving
here, I’d waited several weeks before making a date with him, mostly out of nervousness.
Up close and personal, I had no idea how things would work out. This was Ken Miller, after all. High school hockey god, college hockey star, pro athlete with stellar stats (whatever that meant, I was going by what he’d told me).
No, what I knew about Ken Miller was much more visceral, I thought, as I hesitated in the lobby of the ice area. Ken Miller, the boy that jump-started my teenage hormones with his sky blue eyes.
And he’d only gotten better as time went by.
Was I ready for this?
Glancing left and right through the ice arena, I searched for a place to sit. Ken had suggested a certain section, but it looked crowded. Still, I maneuvered towards the seats, taking the middle in a three-wide gap of empty benches.
I hovered, hugging my knees anxiously. My long russet hair fell around my face, probably making me look like a crazy person while I tried to calm my nerves about seeing Ken for the first time in five years.
It didn’t help that I didn’t know a thing about hockey except that it was played on ice and required serious padding. And helmets. Sports weren’t part of my life. My teeth chattered, but they’d been doing that a lot since I’d moved to Denver.
Players circled the ice while I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, though I didn’t see Ken. Apparently, practices were open to watch and I was unprepared for how many people were here today. My anxiety was riding high and without a familiar face, I thought about leaving.
I didn’t belong here, surrounded by fans. I felt like some sort of impostor. A geek spy in the house of jocks.
“May I sit here?”
I looked up, and my jaw dropped. A stunning pair of gold-green eyes pierced through me, and I simply nodded. The stranger sat, somehow tucking his massive six-foot-plus form onto the bench beside me. He smiled all the while, dimples showing through the shadow of his sexy dark scruff. The pale eyes against the black hair was arresting.
He ran a hand through his thick hair and settled in. “Thanks,” his voice rumbled. “It’s unusually crowded today.”
I nodded again, dumbly. All I could do was stare at the way his black sweater clung to him, revealing that he was pure lean muscle from the neck down. It made me want a bear hug from him in the worst kind of way. Or more.
Yes, more.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Oh… uh.” I cleared my throat and looked away, glad I’d refrained from losing all common sense and checking out more of his body. Being out of my element was playing with my usual ability to ignore anyone and anything around me. “Yeah, sorry. I was just lost in thought.”
“Is it really okay?”
I looked back at him, staring blankly. Is what okay?
"I mean if you don't really want me to sit here—"
“No!” I interrupted, speaking way too enthusiastically. Dial it down, I chided myself. “I mean, yeah sure sit here that’s… not… a problem,” I rambled. I offered a smile while internally slapping myself on the cheeks. Get a hold of yourself, Violet! “Don’t mind me.”
He laughed softly and turned those stunning eyes to the rink. We watched together in silence, him seemingly sizing up the players while I wondered why I never learned to ice skate. Like any other sport, hockey didn’t interest me.
Probably driven by the way my high school had catered to sports over academics. The football team got new jerseys and practice equipment while the competitive math team had to raise our own money and share my mom’s minivan to attend regionals.
It seemed more important back then.
“You agree?” the man asked.
Huh? I looked over.
“Roy is stiff today,” he commented, pointing out over the ice.
I followed his finger at a trio of men gathered across the way. “Which one is Roy?”
“He’s right next to Luskev.”
"I have no idea who either of those people is. Is Luskev a first name?"
The stranger next to me shot me a quizzical look and somehow, for a split-second, seemed familiar. Like someone I’d passed before, maybe chatted with in a coffee-shop type of familiar. But I couldn’t place him.
“Are you dating one of the players?” he asked.
“No.” My voice was a little too loud.
“Huh. It’s just that no one comes to the practices except fans and girlfriends.”
I shrugged. “I’m here to see a friend. He thought I’d find it fun to watch a practice.”
He nodded slowly. “I see.” He held out his hand. “Well, I’m Nathan, and I guess for today I can teach you about the game.”
I shook his hand, feeling tiny. His warm hand swallowed my petite fingers. “I’m Violet.”
Tearing my gaze from his sparkling eyes, I searched the ice again.
“Just a friend?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said blushing. “Known him since high school. Ken.”
“Ah. Miller. Nice guy. A beast, really, the guy you want watching your back. But that’s…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “What would you like to know?”
"How do you know so much?" I pointed at the ice. Nathan had been an impressive fount of knowledge. He’d spouted stats at first, then seeing my perplexed look, slowly explained the drills and why the professional team was only using half the rink to practice. For the most part, I just listened, fascinated.
I knew my way around a computer. Hockey stats, not at all.
I’d finally located Ken on the ice, and it was hard to keep my eyes on him in the midst of matching jerseys zooming around. Plus I was distracted by the passion in Nathan’s voice. I could ask one question and it spurred a million answers, but I didn’t mind. He had a low, buzzy voice, and I enjoyed listening to it.
“Once upon a time, I played,” he said with a sigh.
“Oh.” I didn’t know if I should pry. It would be rude to assume he wasn’t good enough to play pro, right?
“It wasn’t meant to be,” he continued. “Tore my ACL and MCL, and two surgeries in they realized I had developed a heart murmur.”
I placed my hand on his leg and turned to him, shocked at his admission. “What?”
“I’ll live, obviously, but that was it for my career. Barely three seasons under my belt.” He frowned but tried to smile. “Lady luck wasn’t on my side.”
“I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”
His big hand covered mine and gave it a squeeze. “I’m fine. I didn’t mean to be a downer. Most of the time I’m fine with it, and then there’s that 5% chance I’ll drift off and hate my body for failing me.”
I bit my tongue to catch the comment I almost made about his body looking just fine. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
“Nah. No bad memories,” he promised. “And day-to-day I’m fine. No limp, and my heart is wacky but healthy. So don’t let me ruin this,” he laughed. “What are you thinking? Can I plan on seeing you at a game? Maybe tomorrow night?”
I grinned and glanced back to the players. Ken was circling around the unused space of the ice while his teammates battled for the puck. Did I want to see him in a real game? Maybe. Probably.
“Tomorrow night won’t work,” I said as I went over my schedule in my head. “I have a project that I’m falling behind on.”
"Ah. Well, what about Friday night?"
“There’s a game that night?” I asked.
“No. I mean yes, but they’re playing in another state. I meant you and I. Dinner?”
I fumbled for words. Nathan seemed like a good guy, but wasn’t I here because of my life-long crush for Ken? But then again, Ken and I were just friends. Time may have passed, but chances are he still saw me as the dorky girl I was in high school.
The girl with no aptitude for fashion or makeup. The girl who was two grades below him but ended up as his math tutor. And for all the attention I gave him or the fun we had during our sessions, he was always dating someone taller and blonder while
I managed to be dateless for every prom.
If I passed on a date in the hopes that Ken would magically notice me now, I was still that pathetic girl. Nathan gave my hand another squeeze—I’d forgotten he still held it. He had a comforting presence and looked like a Greek god. I looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.
I’d be insane not to give him a chance.
“Yeah,” I said finally. “I’d really like that.”
“Do they do this every day?” I asked. Practice had wrapped up and the team seemingly vanished into the locker room.
“Just about, yeah. Even if they play that night, they still practice during the day. Even if they’re catching a plane to another city in the afternoon, they still practice during the day,” Nathan said.
"Wow. No downtime? But the season doesn't last all year."
“They can’t get rusty. It’s a non-stop lifestyle. In the summer they have the afternoons free, but it’s not the same as having time for a vacation.”
I looked across the now empty ice, which was marred and dull from the players’ sharp skates. “I guess I should head out. I’m supposed to meet Ken in the parking lot.”
“It’ll still be a few minutes before they’re done. After practice they check injuries, massage the muscles, things like that.” Nathan looked over, where the rest of the crowd was filing out. “Probably better to wait in here a little longer than to stand in the cold. They won’t kick us out.”
“You do this a lot?”
“Nah. If I have the day off I’ll drop by. I try to make the home games, at least. The away games… that’s a different challenge.”
I tucked a loose strand of my shoulder-length hair behind my ear and turned in my seat. “I’m sorry. All this time we were talking, and I never asked what you do.”
“Aww. You don’t want to know that. You’ll change your mind about our date.” He grimaced, but it was clear he was joking.
“Come on, tell me.”
“I’m a nerd,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “I work with network security.”