Page 51 of Merry Mischief List
“Honestly, Porter is one of the few I actually stayed in touch with. We played four years at CBU and then both got drafted to Tampa. Now we’re just kinda stuck together.”
“That’s sweet. It must have been hard for you after he got hurt.”
“Yeah.” Knox leans against the counter. “We still see each other a lot, but it isn’t the same. Not many people have the opportunity to travel and play pro ball with their best friend.”
“Aww, don’t worry,” Porter says, walking down the stairs. “Once you outlive your use at Tampa, I’ll hire you as a defensive coach, and we can travel again like old times.”
“How considerate of you,” Knox says with a teasing glare.
My mouth is dry taking in Porter, who’s wearing a two-piece suit splattered with a pattern of Rudolph, sans shirt, showing off his rippled stomach.
“Damn, Coach,” I blurt.
Porter grins, straightening his shoulders. “Will it do?”
I open and close my mouth, struggling to find the right words.I wish he could dress like this on game day. It would definitely increase ticket sales.
“Who knew you bought impractical clothes too?” I finally say.
“I would say a festive holiday suit is entirely practical,” Porter replies, brushing the shoulder of his jacket. “Always gotta be prepared for the inevitable costume party.”
Knox scoffs. “What he’s failing to mention is the awesome person whoboughthim the suit in the first place.”
“Only because you wanted to match at the Barracudas holiday party last year,” Porter points out.
“How would people have known you were my date if we didn’t match?” Knox argues.
“I wasnotyour date,” Porter clarifies.
“Iinvited you. We wenttogether.We matched suits—”
“Because you made us,” Porter interrupts Knox, and I fight a smile as my eyes bounce between them.
“Aww, is he the Daddy Dom in your relationship?” I ask Porter.
He slides his hand around my neck, tugging my head back, and leans down, lips inches from mine. Heat pools between my thighs as I struggle for air. “Maybe if you’re a good girl, you’ll get to find out for yourself.” He releases his hold on me. “Let’s go, Cupcake.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re making our way through the crowded club. Looks like everyone got the costume memo because there are Santas, snowmen, and gingerbread people galore in here. We fit right in.
We arrive at what I assume is the VIP section given there’s a bouncer with a clipboard posted out front. He looks like the type of guy who gets a hard-on saying no to people. His entire demeanor changes when he sees us, and I think, in fact, what he truly gets a hard-on from is seeing Knox because he practically drops the velvet rope as we arrive.
“Mr. Knox,” the bouncer says, gesturing us inside.
“Thanks,” Knox says, leading us to a small, cozy-looking couch toward the back of the room.
Porter and Knox sit on opposite ends, and there’s just enough room for me to slide my body between them. The lights are dim, and even in the crowded space we have plenty of privacy.Wouldn’t mind taking advantage of it.
A server arrives with a round of tequila shots. We knock them back, and it goes down smoother than a penguin on ice.
“Damn, that’s good stuff,” I say, setting my glass on the low table before us.
“One of my favorites,” Knox says, leaning forward and brushing my bare leg as he sets his shot glass next to mine. He leans back, spreading his arm over the back of the couch, and I struggle to think straight as his red velvet jacket slides open, giving the perfect view of his exposed muscular stomach.Do these men not own shirts?
“It’s a far cry from mini bottles of bottom shelf liquor,” I say.
“Well, like I said earlier,” Knox replies, “I don’t mind paying for thingsworththe money. I just hate getting ripped off overpaying for cheap crap.”
“Don’t let him fool you. He’s totally high maintenance,” Porter teases, fingers brushing lazily along my thigh as a server replaces his shot glass with his standard glass of bourbon. They must come here often considering the servers bring their favorites without even being asked.
