ALL YOURS, DADDY
The team had just won, and the locker room was thick with celebration — half-naked players, steam rising from the showers, low laughter echoing off the tiles.
But my eyes were locked on **Ryker Kane** and **Jax Wilder**.
Ryker was the captain — 6’5” of pure muscle, broad shoulders, thick chest glistening with sweat, tattoos snaking down his arms and across his pecs. His dark hair was wet, jaw sharp, eyes dark and dangerous as they raked over me. Jax was leaner but no less lethal — sharp cheekbones, wicked smile, abs carved like they were meant to be licked, his cock already half-hard under the towel.