Chapter 16

Winnie

G unnar pretty much has to drag me. But to be fair, the only reason I don’t go skipping along enthusiastically on my own is because I’ve lost all feeling in my legs.

I never knew being aroused could have this effect on a girl, but when his hypnotic blue eyes with their midnight black lashes hooked mine, and his you’re-getting-very-horny voice said, “You do realize you never, ever have to get yourself off again, right?,” low and so husky and so… so… so damn lust-filled… I lost all feeling from the waist down, except in one certain area, which is now insistently pulsing as all the blood in my body rushes to fill that one tiny…

I gasp as Gunnar backs me up against the coat closet door the second we’re out of sight from the others.

No, don’t back me up against a closed door, my horny little heart cries. Open the door, pull me inside, close it behind us, and fuck me right now .

You’d think my pussy would need a break after taking ten dildos last night, but I had to have them all.

“You know, Winnie,” Gunnar says. He plants one hand on the door frame to the left of my head, and uses the other hand to lift my chin. “I never got my kiss yesterday.”

“Grievous oversight on my part,” I whisper as he traces my lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

He drops his hand, the one that was on the door, and his fingers graze the side of my breast, the touch featherlight but no doubt intentional. He lowers it further to grab my hip.

I stare up at him, too overwhelmed by emotion to move. My hands are shaking. I just confessed to my ten best friends, the hottest men on the planet, that I masturbated while fantasizing about gang banged by the whole lot of them. I should be ashamed of myself. I should be mortified.

But all I feel… other than horny as fuck… is… safe. So incredibly safe.

That’s your problem, girlie. No damn self-control. This is just another all-you-can-eat buffet for you to put out of business. You’ll break their backs. You’ll–

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” I mutter.

Gunnar’s brows raise. “You talkin’ to me?”

I shake my head. “Nah. And you’re right. I owe you and I always pay my debts.”

Reaching behind me for the handle to the closet door, I pull it open. “Fortune favors the bold, after all,” I add mischievously, grabbing his bicep with my free hand and squeezing the muscles under his inked skin. “So here we go, Gunnar Hammer. ”

My plan is to heave him inside the closet with me and kiss him and more until my lips are sore as… other areas of my body, but a vacuum, several shelves overflowing with cold weather clutter, and more coats than I expected are in the way.

When I turn back to Gunnar, his brows are higher than before. “You need something from the coat closet?”

“No. I just…” Smiling awkwardly, I shut the door and lean back against it, assuming the same position as before. “Ah, that’s better.”

He grins, shaking his head like he doesn’t know what to make of me but he likes what he sees, and my heart squeezes. Then his hands are curling up into my hair and his mouth is on mine.

I’ve fantasized about kissing Gunnar so many times, naturally, but my imagination has always gotten it wrong, starting hot and fast instead of the soft, sweet, languid kisses he’s giving me now as he finds my hands, laces his fingers with mine, palm to palm.

“Mmm…” His kisses travel down my neck, nipping a gentle line from the back of my ear down to my collarbone. Pulling a moan from me as he lowers his head, his mouth dipping to the tops of my breasts.

He’s using our linked hands to brace himself against the door, caging me in as his lips grow more demanding. I thought heaving bosoms was just a phrase used by romance novelists but… it’s an accurate description. I hadn’t realized just how insubstantial and thin my pajama top was, but as his tongue swipes my nipple, it doesn’t feel like there is any fabric at all between his touch and my sensitive skin. I arch my back, wanting more .

“Better than I imagined,” he says. His voice is deep and gritty, and the sound of it tickles every nerve between my legs. “You taste so fucking good.”

He straightens, and as he does, his hips push forward, pinning my body against the door. All humor dies as he captures my gaze with his hypnotic ocean-blue eyes, and lets go of my hand to hoist my thigh up over his hip.

Again, a moan escapes me, which makes his lips tip into a sultry smile.

“This okay, Win?” he asks, his voice rougher than before. His eyes darken into a tempest as he grinds against me.

I can’t reply; I can only pant. Sweet God, he’s so hard. His baggy sweatpants hide nothing from me. I can feel the ridges of him, and the way he stares down at me, the way I automatically surrender to him, rakes desire through me so hard I shudder.

My shudder is just enough movement to rub his cock against me again, exactly where I want him. This time my moan is louder.

“Shhh, baby,” he says with a laugh. “I’d love nothing more than to make you scream my name, you realize that, right? But I don’t want to give anyone a reason to interrupt this.” He captures my mouth with his, but I don’t know if I can keep quiet. Not when he’s kissing me and kissing me and kissing me…

Ten minutes, hours, maybe even days later, it’s me who finally pulls us back to reality. Somehow we manage to untangle, but the only way I can wrench my body out from under him is by promising myself that this moment between us isn’t done. Far from it .

All the guys are still in the kitchen when we arrive back. My cheeks flame, because I know how I must look - as wanton and desired as I feel after being thoroughly ravished by Gunnar Hammer. It’s written on Mason’s face, the way his eyes dim as he glances out the window. It’s written in the tightness in Axel’s jaw as he stirs his coffee. Max won’t even look at me.

“I made pancakes,” Jack says, and it’s there in his voice, too, the way it sounds just the slightest bit dejected.

I glance at the plates of pancakes dotted around the kitchen where the others sit, surprised. Somehow I’d been so lost in Gunnar that I hadn’t even noticed the uncomparable scent of Popsy’s Famous Pancakes, but it hits me now and my stomach growls.

“That sounds amazing, but while we eat… I need to talk to you all about something.”

Ten pairs of eyes land on me as I say the words, and the vulnerability I see in all of them chokes me up.

But I say it, clearly and confidently. “I want us all to do it.”

All ten pairs of eyebrows raise.

Bad choice of words, okay, but accurate. I laugh at myself and then carry on quickly, “I want to do Winnie’s Favorite Hammer. NOT as a show, I mean. No cameras, no crew, and for the love of God, no eliminations. Just us.”

The thought of choosing a favorite from among my ten favorite men, each selfless, generous, respectful, and caring in their own special way. Each too beautiful to put into words, seems impossible. But although I want to believe what Gavin said as he kissed me good night, that I can have everything I want, it’s not like I can have ten boyfriends. That’s absurd .

But at least I can give them all a shot – no, give myself a shot – to find out if I can have at least one of them as my boyfriend.

I have to.

Because if Goldie is right, if it is impossible to be genuinely head-over-heels for ten men at a time, I can at least try to find that kind of love with one of them. Maybe that love will grow into something bigger than the love I feel for all of them together now?

And what if I can find a Hammer brother who will feel that much love for me?

The thought, as impossible as it seems, warms me more than anything else. As much as I want all of my boys for myself, what I truly want is for each of them to be insanely happy.

I know they want nothing less for me. So… if two of us can be insanely happy together?

Then screw what my father would have said. Screw what the internet trolls would say. Screw what my own self-doubt says.

My gaze sweeps the room, taking in each and every beautiful face. I can’t imagine choosing one of them. But choosing none of them seems just as unfathomable.

I know they’ll all be careful with my heart–and I with theirs. I know that none of them would ever lie to me. If they say they want me, they do. If my soulmate exists, he’s in this room…

“Love, you seem to be in a trance,” Leo says, shaking me out of my thoughts.

“I want to do it,” I say again, and laugh at my choice of words again. “That is… if all of you still want to do it with me. ”

I expect silence, for them to weigh the pros and cons, and question what an insane idea it is. I’m overwhelmed by an instant, enthusiastic chorus of LET’S DO IT!, as if they’d rehearsed it, as if they’ve all been waiting for it. Even Max is grinning.

I’m swept into a Hammer group hug so fast I don’t know who started it. Their hugs are the best thing ever. I close my eyes and am enveloped by each and every one of them, all muscles and squeezes and kisses on my brow. A kiss drops on my lips, now and again, as they surround me with their warmth and love.

Then I wake up.

No, then Jack says, “We’re gonna need rules.”

Everyone groans. But we all acknowledge that he’s right. Set rules are the only way to keep things friendly and fair and, hopefully, drama-free