Todos los capítulos de Puck in bed with my brothers enemy : Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

CHAPTER TWELVE: Zeek’s POVThe taste of her on my tongue was my undoing and I should have known it won’t end well the moment I knelt down to have a taste of her magnificent pussy.Fuck.I stayed on my knees under the spray, hands locked around her thick thighs, mouth still on her even after she came. She was shaking, pulsing against my tongue, and I couldn’t stop. I licked her through it like a starving man who had just found food for the first time in years and wanted it all to himself.Slow, greedy strokes. The soft, broken sounds she kept making went straight to my cock, the feel of her hand in my head as she pushed my head closer so my tongue went even deeper inside her core, I was past the point of caring about the fact that I could not longer breathe with the way my nose was flat against her pussy. I wanted more of her like I was an addict and my dick was so hard it hurt.How the fuck did I get here?I don’t usually do this. Oral was something I had given maybe three times in my

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Lila’s POVMy phone rang on the nightstand, dragging me out of a dead sleep.I fumbled for it half blind, knocking my knuckles against the lamp before I finally got a grip on it.“Hello?”“Good morning, birdie,” Leo said, voice bright and far too awake for someone who’d lost a final and thrown a punch on live television hours ago.“Good morning, Leo,” I muttered, my sleepy drawl clinging to every syllable.“You sound like a broken mic right now. I’ve literally been calling you for a while.”“Are you kidding me? It’s literally just seven in the—”I pulled the phone away and stared at the screen.11:02 a.m.“Oh shit.”“Yes,” Leo said, far too amused. “And luckily for you, our flight isn’t for another three hours, so get your ass moving.”I sat up so fast the room tilted. “Wait. What Flight? What are you talking about?”“Don’t you wanna go home anymore? I already booked your ticket. We’re not exactly setting up house in this city, birdie, the match is over.”Home. Right

Chapter 16 CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Zeek’s POV“You look like shit.”Dex let himself in without knocking, because apparently the last decade of friendship had convinced him he didn’t need to, and dropped onto my couch like he owned the place.“Thanks. Really needed that today.”“I’m serious. You’ve got a face like someone stole your dick.” He kicked his feet up onto my coffee table, which I hated, and he knew I hated, which was exactly why he did it every single time. “Also I watched the fight like six times already. Cane’s got a mean right hook for a guy who skates like he’s scared of the puck.”“He got lucky.”“He got you good is what he got.” Dex grinned, entirely too pleased with himself. “And then apparently you went full soap opera hero and claimed some mystery girl in front of half the internet. People are losing their minds trying to figure out who she is.”“Careesha made a scene. I handled it.”“Uh huh.” He studied me the way he always did right before he said something I didn’t wan

Chapter 18 : Lila’s POV“You’re actually here. I was starting a betting pool on whether you’d bail again.”Richy pulled the door open before I even knocked, wooden spoon still in hand, an apron tied over his button-down like he hadn’t quite committed to either version of himself tonight, businessman or home cook.“I don’t bail.” I stepped past him into the smell of garlic and something simmering that had clearly been on the stove for hours. “I reschedule.”“Is that what we’re calling it now?”“That’s exactly what we’re calling it.”He laughed, his rare stomach rumbling laughter that would make eye the saddest person crack a smile, this one had nothing to do with boardrooms or contracts or any version of himself the outside world got to see, and something in my chest loosened for the first time in days. This was the version of Richy I actually knew, apron and all, humming under his breath while he stirred a pot that didn’t need stirring, home in a way his office never was.“Leo’s alrea

Chapter TWENTY: Lila’s POV“Chin down, chin down, no, too far, there, hold that.”The photographer had said the same commentary and corrections that’s starting to grate on my nerves within the last twenty minutes, and I was starting to lose the will to comply with any of it.The wig itched, it was an auburn-wine shade close enough to my own hair to read as natural on camera, different enough that nobody scrolling past this cover in six months would connect it to me or anything related to my personal life. The stylist had spent forty minutes arranging loose wisps of it across my cheekbone, angling my bangs low over one eye, building an entire silhouette designed to suggest a face without ever fully showing one. There would be no full reveal and my identity would still be safe for now all thanks to the photographer agreeing to focus on my shadow, silhouette, hair, the curve of a jaw caught mid-turn, everything is enough to be beautiful and nothing close to identifiable. I’d made the