Page 70 of Whirlwind

Chapter 5

Dakota

Dakota let out a relieved breath. They actually had been worried that Ben and Parker wouldn’t want them once they’d kissed each other. With the way those two postured and bickered one moment and then finished each other’s sentences the next, they’d been like a powder keg waiting for a match.

Dakota wanted to be right in the middle of the explosion.

And it would definitely be an explosion. The two hadn’t made any secret of their preferences.

Dakota was already getting a sense of each man. Ben was a bit more reserved, exerting his dominance with a well-planned hot glare and a firm hand.

Parker was spontaneous and ready to take a risk. When he’d pinned Dakota’s hands behind their back, right in the middle of the bar, they thought they were going to come. Once one of their men told them to, of course.

Now they just wanted to get back to someone’s room as quickly as possible.

“Alright, last game.” They threw a triple 20, triple 19, and triple 18, their preferred approach over trying to get two darts into the same tiny square. “One hundred thirty,” they announced their remaining points, all business.

“What the fuck?” asked Parker. “Did you see that? That’s like…”

“One hundred seventy one points,” Dakota put in helpfully. “Lucky throw?”

Both men glared at them, assessing. They worried for a moment that they’d judged this all wrong. God help them if they’d screwed this up.

Ben went, getting a respectable triple on an 18. Parker went, scoring a bulls-eye, which was often his preference. It had a bit of a go-big-or-go-home feeling that seemed to be Parker’s style.

Dakota did the automatic calculations in their head. There were only so many combinations that could get you from 130 to 0 in a single round, and any serious dart player would have them memorized. T20, T18, D8 was the most popular. If you missed and got a single on the 20, you could still take the last 110 with a triple 20 and a double bull on the way out.

They aimed carefully. Triple 20. Come on, baby. There it was. Triple 18.

At this point, it was too late for any subtlety. They might as well go out with a bang.

They felt heat behind them but didn’t look back. Someone was leaning toward their ear, his breath teasing and exciting them. That little breath shook them down to their toes. It had to be Parker, the impulsive one, giving them a taste of their own medicine.

They sucked in a breath. Focus, focus, focus. They threw. Double eight.

Two rounds and the game was over.

They turned around and looked up into Ben’s stern glare. “You’re a professional, aren’t you.”

God, that controlled anger just turned them inside out. “Well, not a professional, really. I mean, I played in some competitions…”

“But you still tricked us.” Ben stepped forward, and Dakota automatically stepped back, pulse racing and panties wet.

Parker crowded in beside Ben, advancing another step. Dakota’s back hit the wall, inches from the dart board. The heat of the two men burned through their clothing.

“Well,” Parker growled, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

Dakota sucked in their breath. This was their moment. Hopefully. “Sirs, I’ve been very naughty.”

The air hung silently for one beat. Two. Three. Dakota looked between the two men, hoping for confirmation. Hell, they would take any response, right now.

It was Parker who spoke first, his eyes dark and stormy. “You certainly have. And what happens to brats like you?”

Oh, thank god. “They should be punished, sir?”

Ben’s response was almost a growl. “Was that a question, brat?”

“Er, no, sir. Brats like me should be punished.”