The Arrival

Sandy Sizemore gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as the luxury resort came into view. The late afternoon sun glittered across the lake like scattered diamonds, and the main lodge rose ahead of her in elegant stone and dark timber. She had spent the last hour of the drive repeating her new title under her breath. Assistant wedding coordinator. It sounded professional. Responsible. Nothing like the girl who spent her nights filming secret videos for strangers.

She exhaled slowly, checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, and smoothed a stray wave of auburn hair behind one ear. The green eyes looking back at her seemed too wide, too nervous. Twenty-two years old, fresh out of college, and somehow handed this dream summer gig. She was not about to ruin it by being anything less than perfectly polished.

A valet in a crisp white shirt opened her door before she could second-guess herself. Sandy stepped out on toned legs still sun-kissed from her final college track season. Her simple navy sheath dress hugged her slender frame and flattered the gentle curve of her perky C-cup breasts without being obvious. Professional. Safe.

Inside the lobby the air smelled of pine, expensive leather, and fresh flowers. A tall woman in a sharp black suit clicked across the marble floor to greet her.

“Sandy Sizemore? I’m Elena Hepler, lead coordinator. We’re already behind schedule, so I’ll make this quick.” Elena didn’t wait for a reply. “The groom’s party arrived early. Ryan Caldwell and his groomsmen are in the Lakeside Pavilion for an informal welcome gathering. Your first job is to introduce yourself, confirm the rehearsal dinner timeline, and make sure every single one of them understands that this weekend runs on precision. Questions?”

Sandy shook her head, offering her shy smile. “None. I’m ready.”

Elena studied her for half a second, then nodded. “Good. They’re a lot of testosterone in one room. Stay professional and you’ll be fine.” She was already walking away, heels clicking like a countdown.

Sandy followed the discreet wooden signs toward the pavilion, her heart beating faster with every step. Ten groomsmen plus the groom. Eleven men who had known each other since college, most of them former athletes. She told herself the flutter low in her belly was only first-day jitters.

The Lakeside Pavilion opened onto a wide deck suspended over the water. Laughter rolled out to meet her before she even stepped through the glass doors. The space was filled with broad shoulders and expensive casual clothing. Ryan Caldwell spotted her first.

“You must be Sandy,” he called, flashing an easy smile. Sandy-haired and fit in a tailored linen shirt, the groom looked exactly like the photos she had studied in the planning binder. He extended a hand. “Ryan. Thanks for riding to the rescue this weekend. Elena said you’re some kind of organizational genius.”

Sandy slipped her small hand into his. “I’m just happy to help. Congratulations on the wedding.”

Ryan turned to the group. “Guys, this is Sandy Sizemore. She’s going to keep us all from screwing up the schedule. Be nice.”

Eleven pairs of eyes turned toward her. Sandy felt the weight of their attention like a physical touch. She catalogued faces quickly, the way she had trained herself to do for event planning. Then one man separated from the rest without even trying.

Travis Bryant.

He stood six-three with the kind of athletic build that made tailored shirts look custom-made for him. Dark hair, sharp jaw, and intense blue eyes that locked onto hers a fraction longer than the others. A slow, confident smile curved his mouth. Sandy’s pulse jumped.

One by one they introduced themselves. Marcus Hale, the quiet Black groomsman with tattooed arms and a deep voice that seemed to vibrate in her chest. Derek Hepler, lean and mischievous with messy blond hair and a grin that suggested trouble. The rest blurred together, names she would memorize later. For now her focus kept sliding back to Travis.

He waited until last. When he offered his hand, his fingers engulfed hers completely. His palm was warm, grip firm but not crushing. “Travis Bryant. Best man.” His voice was smooth, low, the kind of voice that could issue commands without ever raising in volume. “Nice to finally meet the woman who’s going to wrangle us all weekend.”

Sandy felt heat rise in her cheeks. “I prefer coordinating to wrangling,” she answered, trying to keep her sweet, breathy tone light.

Travis’s smile deepened, like he had heard the tiny waver underneath. “We’ll see.”

She pulled her hand back a second too late. The other men had already drifted back to their drinks and conversations, but Travis stayed close. Too close. Close enough that she caught the faint scent of his cologne, something expensive and woody that made her think of dark rooms and strong hands.

Sandy reached into her bag for the slim leather portfolio that held the revised schedule. As she did, her phone slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the low wooden table beside them. The screen, unfortunately still unlocked from her last check of directions, lit up with the notification banner that had been waiting.

OnlyFans: 47 new likes on “What I’d Let Ten Strangers Do To Me”

Sandy’s stomach dropped through the floor.

Travis’s sharp blue eyes flicked down. He saw it. She knew the exact second he processed the words because his posture changed, shoulders settling like a predator who had just scented prey. He didn’t snatch the phone. He simply tilted his head, reading the full notification before she could lunge for it.

Time slowed. Sandy’s mind screamed at her to grab the device, but her body had frozen. Travis’s gaze lifted slowly from the screen to her face. The charged eye contact pinned her in place. Those intense blue eyes darkened with sudden knowledge, with interest, with something that looked dangerously like hunger.

“Interesting,” he murmured, voice pitched for her ears only. The rest of the groomsmen were laughing loudly a few feet away, completely unaware. “Sandy Sizemore. The good girl who keeps everyone on schedule.”

She finally snatched the phone and shoved it deep into her bag, cheeks burning crimson. Her breath came shallow. “It’s not, I mean, that’s private—”

Travis took one smooth step closer. He towered over her, but it wasn’t threatening. Not yet. It was intimate. Controlled. “Relax, little slut.”

The filthy word slid into her ear like warm honey and lightning at the same time. Sandy’s thighs pressed together involuntarily. No one had ever called her that in real life. Only in her videos. Only in the comments section where anonymous men told her exactly how they would use her.

Travis watched the reaction play across her face with obvious satisfaction. “Your secret’s safe with me. For now. But we are going to talk about that video title later.”

She opened her mouth, but no professional response came out. Only a soft, shaky exhale.

He reached out and brushed an imaginary speck of lint from her shoulder, the touch light but unmistakably possessive. “You’re even prettier when you’re flustered. Those full lips part just like they do in your thumbnails.”

Sandy’s green eyes widened. He had recognized her. Not just the notification. He had seen her content. Probably more than one video if he was referencing thumbnails. The realization sent a rush of slick heat between her legs even as shame flooded her chest.

“Mr. Bryant—” she started.

“Travis,” he corrected, voice dropping another notch. “When we’re alone, you’ll call me Sir. But we’ll ease into that. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm that shy smile too quickly.”

His words wrapped around her like silk chains. She should have been outraged. She should have marched straight to Elena and quit before this went any further. Instead she stood there, heart hammering, aware of how hard her nipples had become against the thin fabric of her dress.

Travis glanced over his shoulder to make sure the others were still distracted, then leaned down so his lips nearly brushed the shell of her ear. “Ten groomsmen, Sandy. That’s a lot of hands. A lot of mouths. A lot of cock. You think you could handle all of us?”

Her breath hitched audibly. The filthy question sent her mind spiraling into every fantasy she had ever whispered to her camera. She pictured it for one dangerous second, all of them surrounding her, Travis directing the scene with that same calm authority.

“I… I don’t…” She couldn’t finish.

He straightened, sliding back into the charming best-man persona as easily as changing coats. The shift was seamless. Only his eyes stayed dark and knowing. “We should get that schedule sorted. Wouldn’t want to keep the bride waiting, would we?”

Sandy nodded too quickly. Her hands trembled as she opened the portfolio. Ryan wandered back over, oblivious, clapping Travis on the shoulder.

“Everything good over here?” the groom asked.

“Perfect,” Travis answered smoothly. “Sandy was just explaining how important it is that we all stay on task this weekend. I told her we’d be very… cooperative.”

The subtle emphasis on the last word made Sandy’s stomach tighten. She forced her professional smile back into place and began walking them through the revised rehearsal dinner timeline. Every time she glanced up, Travis was watching her mouth move. Every time she shifted her weight, she felt the dampness between her thighs.

Marcus and Derek drifted closer, drawn by the quiet authority in Travis’s stance. Marcus studied her with those intense dark eyes, like he could already sense something had changed. Derek’s mischievous grin suggested he was picking up on the new tension even if he didn’t understand it yet.

Sandy kept talking, kept being the competent recent graduate they had hired. But inside, the walls between her respectable life and her filthy secret were cracking faster than she could repair them.

Travis waited until the others had accepted copies of the schedule and drifted away again. Then he stepped in close once more, crowding her against the wooden railing that overlooked the lake. The sun was beginning to set, painting the water in rose and gold, but Sandy barely noticed.

“Look at me,” he said quietly.

She did. The eye contact felt obscene, more intimate than some of the things she had done on camera.

“Good girl.” The praise landed low in her belly. “Tonight, after the welcome dinner, you’re going to send me the link to your OnlyFans. Every video. Every photo. I want to see exactly what that pretty head fantasizes about when no one’s watching.”

Sandy swallowed hard. “And if I don’t?”

Travis’s smile was slow and devastating. “Then I’ll have to show the rest of the guys what I saw on your phone. And we both know how quickly ten athletic men can lose their inhibitions at a destination wedding.” He let that sink in, then added, “But I don’t think you want me to share your secret just yet. I think you want to see how long you can pretend to be the good girl while knowing I know exactly how bad you really are.”

Her lips parted on a silent gasp. Travis reached up and gently tucked the same rebellious strand of auburn hair behind her ear that she had fixed in the car. This time his fingers lingered against her jaw.

“Welcome to the wedding party, Sandy.” His voice was velvet over steel. “It’s going to be a very long, very educational weekend.”

He stepped back just as Ryan called the group together for a toast. The best man’s mask slipped seamlessly back into place. Charming. Relaxed. The perfect best friend.

Only Sandy saw the promise burning behind those intense blue eyes every time his gaze found her across the pavilion. Only Sandy felt the slow, terrifying, exhilarating spark catch inside her chest and travel straight down between her legs.

She was in so much trouble.

And some treacherous, filthy part of her couldn’t wait to see exactly how much.