The girls and I all must look ridiculous as everyone begins the walk from the gym to the tower, arms wrapped around ourselves, huddled close for warmth. It’s late, but the boys’ rowdy celebration pings off nothing but empty warehouses and vacant buildings, so Nick and Sy just grin, leading the pack toward the tall building a few streets over.
I find myself staring at it in the distance, my neck craned up as the darkened clock face grows closer and closer. Odd to think there was a time I stood here on the street, right in front of it, so intimidated by the sheer enormity of it that my stomach roiled.
Now, the sight of it unwinds me.
Home.
One by one, we all pack through the doors–the Dukes and I first, then Kaczinski, tonight’s other winner. He whoops as he comes through, slamming palms with a few other DKS boys, then they all head up the stairs.
I hang back to wait for my guys, engaged in an idle discussion about holiday break with Laura. She plans to drive south with one of the other girls to see a concert, but it doesn’t really mean much to me. What am I going to do, go home for Thanksgiving? Christmas?
Yeah.
Fat chance of that.
I’m caught in a thought loop of mashed potatoes and murder when Sy suddenly shoots forward, blocking the doors.
Planting a palm on each side of the entry, he asks, “Where do you think you’re going?” He leans forward, posture both casual and threatening. “You know the rules.”
I feel the sudden tension more than I see it, an uneasy hush falling over the foyer as everyone cranes their necks to watch.
“You can’t be serious,” comes a sharp voice I recognize all too well. Bruce. The only parts of him visible through the blockade of Sy’s body is the curled fist at his side. “The only reason Kaczinski won was because I’ve been training him!”
Sy’s broad shoulders twitch in a shrug. “He won. You didn’t. You’re a legacy, Bruce, you know the deal.”
Laura shoots me a dark look, whispering, “Here we go…”
Behind me, Kathleen clucks her tongue. “Boys are such babies, I swear.”
Bruce snaps, “This is fucking bullshit!” and then peers around Sy, revealing a bruised, swollen eye that fixes on Nick. “You’re going to let him do this, Bruin? You’re the one wearing the ring. You make the rules!”
Nick doesn’t even look at him, shoulders pressed back against a pillar as he shrugs. “I’ve also got a victory.”
“You already got your ass kicked once tonight,” Sy adds, jerking his chin out toward the street. “Walk it off somewhere else before you get another one.”
One of the DKS guys must approach Bruce from outside, because we suddenly hear an exasperated, “Come on, dude. It’s one party, you’ll live.”
Over the last few weeks, Bruce has become a major pain in the ass. Outwardly defiant to Nick’s leadership, hostile about my position, and well, that showing tonight was just embarrassing.
“I’m a senior,” he shouts. Sy moves just enough that I can see Bruce out on the sidewalk, face red with an unattractive blue vein throbbing on his forehead. “Like you said, I’m a fucking legacy, Perilini. I have just as much right to be in there as you do.”
“That’s right.” From my vantage, I only catch the knot in the back of Sy’s jaw hardening, but I can perfectly imagine the daggers he must be glaring into Bruce’s eyes. “You think I’d have the disrespect–the fucking dishonor–to walk through these doors after a loss? Then you don’t know shit.” Like me, he’s probably remembering that beating he took from Saul’s goons. We didn’t spend three days holed up in the Crane Motor Inn like fugitives for some entitled shithead to question Sy’s loyalty to traditions.
But Remy’s the one who says it, back stiffening as he saunters to the door. “Sy’s never broken the Dukes’ tradition. Not once. And he sure as fuck isn’t about to break it for you.”
Bruce’s mouth curves into an ugly, bitter smirk. “Not once, huh?” His eyes flick to me, making my own narrow in response. When the other guy goes to tug him away, Bruce shakes him off, turning his head to aim a glob of spit at the sidewalk. “Fuck it, then. Your parties have sucked ass since day one, anyway.” With a final flip of his middle finger, Bruce ambles away.
“Coming through!” Ballsack and Porterfield push through the crowd, carrying the keg from the back room. The guys already went through one, and that doesn’t include the punch Kathleen made in a giant paint bucket or the row of shots lined up on the bar reserved for the winners.
That’s where Nick is now, leaning against the bar with a bag of ice in one hand and a shot in the other. He catches my eye from across the room and gives me a wink before swallowing it back.
Even though I’m stone cold sober, the lick of heat in my belly makes me feel like I’m the one that just took the shot.
“If you’d told me three months ago that you’d tame all three Dukes, I wouldn’t have believed it.” Laura follows my line of vision. “But you did it. I have no idea how.”
I shift uncomfortably. “Tame seems like a little bit of an exaggeration.”
Across the room, Remy waves the winner of the first fight, Kaczinski, over to the chair to get his victory tattoo. He’s loose in a way I haven’t seen him before. The glint of wildness is missing from his eye, but it’s replaced by a clarity so intense that when he catches my gaze, I feel trapped, my skin suddenly tight.
“I don’t know,” she adds as I take a sip of beer, “taming one bear isn’t easy, but three? You must have a magic pussy or something.”
I choke on the beer, first in surprise, then on a laugh. When I recover, I say, “It’s not like riding their dicks is a chore,” and the admission is made so casually, so unthinkingly, that my stomach seizes in shock.
I wait for the wave of shame, as if I’m betraying myself by confessing something like that, but it never comes. It’s just the truth. These men are mine now, for better or for worse, and I’ve already had their ‘worse’.
No one deserves their ‘better’ more than me.
“I bet it isn’t.” Her eyes flick to Sy, who’s over by the door talking to a group of guys. From their strong gestures, I’m guessing they’re reenacting some prior fight. His cheeks are ruddy with the flush of liquor, and all I can think about is getting him naked. Again. “But you’re the first to tap that, so bravo.”
‘Tapping’ isn’t quite what’s happening, but I’m not telling Laura that. We’re getting closer, spending time every night warming up my body and stretching me out. Although, ever since Remy showed Sy how to curve his finger to find my G-spot and turn me into a puddle of liquefied heat, it’s hard to get him to focus on anything but that.
I glance at Laura, trying to decide if I need to handle another jealous cutslut, but she’s making eyes at Ballsack across the room. I tip my drink toward him. “You guys have something going on?” The thought all at once warms and terrifies me. Ballsack is a nice guy. Loyal. Sweet. He deserves someone who’ll be good to him.
Laura looks like she wants to eat him up. “Some girls won’t waste their time on recruits, but what can I say? I like the ones that need a little breaking-in.”
The way she and Ballsack exchange a long look makes me believe her. Even more so when a few seconds later, she pushes her empty cup into my hand and says, “Later, Lavvy. I’m going to go find a dark corner and ride his face.”
“Bring him back in one piece?” I call, looking down at her discarded cup. Nick catches me just as I reach the trash can, intending to toss it in.
“Babe, you know we have recruits to clean up.” Taking the trash from my hand, he drops it right onto the floor like the slob he is. “Besides, I have another job for you. Much higher priority.”
My eyes narrow as they dip down, watching his thumb work the button on his jeans. “That’s not a job, Nick. It’s a career.”
His mouth curves into a wicked smirk. “Oh, Little Bird, you should know by now that fucking me is pleasure, not work.” He leans in and licks the seam of my lips, pushing his tongue into my mouth. It tastes sharp, like tequila and fire, and he uses it to speak against my lips. “I need my victory ink.”
“And you want me to watch while Remy does it?” I ask, trying to figure out what he wants. It doesn’t help that his hand is creeping up my shirt, fingers running along the underside of my boob.
“I want you to do it.”
I blink slowly, trying to find my bearings. “Do what?”
“Ink me.” I pull back but his hand splays behind my back, holding me tight. “Like you did for Remy.”
I loosen as it dawns on me. “Oh my god, you really are jealous!”
“Fuck yeah, I’m jealous. I want your mark on me, Little Bird. Somewhere special.” He releases me and again goes for his pants. I expect him to show me the same spot I gave Remy the moon, but instead, he reveals a smooth, hairless swath of skin above the cock that’s currently straining against the lower part of his jeans. “Right here.”
I gape at the skin. “You already shaved?”
Shrugging, he answers, “Of course. In the shower, before we left for the gym earlier.”
So he’s been planning this. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the question of just how far down that goes. Instead, I ask, “But what if you didn’t win?” Only it’s a stupid question, and the sarcastic tug of his brow is more than enough to drive that home.
“Come on,” is all he says.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Tipping my chin up, he stares at my lips, licking his own. “No, ridiculous is when I considered having you put ink on my dick. You know, so I could see it every time I fucked into you.” He says it so seriously, as though he’s considered this in a very careful, scientific way. “It would have been hot as hell, but let’s face it, there’s no way I’m going sexless long enough for it to heal, so obviously that’s off the table.”
“Obviously,” I say, not hiding my sarcasm. “So instead, you just want me to mark you above your dick.”
“Exactly.” He tugs his pants back up but doesn’t button them. “I’m the victor, Lavinia. These are my spoils.” He tilts his head, and even though I know the glare is playful, it still sends a shiver down my spine. “You wouldn’t deny a Duke his spoils, would you?”
Some girls would suspect a gesture like this is bogus. A way of over-compensating for a wayward eye or to prove something. Nick doesn’t need to give me grand gestures, though. His whole existence is proof of his commitment.
But maybe he needs a gesture from me.
“Okay,” I say, just as coolly as he’d requested it. “But Remy needs to supervise, and it can’t be anything too involved, because I’m not an artist. At all.”
He grins, eyes darkening. “Don’t worry, baby. The design I want is so easy, you could draw it with your eyes closed.”
That’s easy for him to say, but I let him lead me across the room to where Remy has his things set up. He’s just finishing up with Kaczinski, who hops out of the chair, showing off the broken crown tattooed on his forearm to his friends.
“You ready?” Remy asks, putting away the dirty needles and opening a package of sealed, sterile ones. He lost his shirt somewhere in the last five minutes, and the curve of his bare shoulder blade distracts me as his back curves over his large box of supplies, green eyes darting up to meet ours.
“I’m going to do something a little different this time, Rem.” Nick spins the chair that Kaz was sitting in to face Remy. It’s adjustable, and he shifts the lever, dropping it to a reclining position.
Remy observes this with a suspicious stare. “Different how?”
“Little Bird.” Reaching up, he tugs his shirt over his head, revealing his chest and torso, the muscles sharp and toned and wallpapered with Remy’s designs. “She’s going to ink me.”
Remy’s rolling eyes land on me. “He got jealous, huh?”
I don’t respond, because when I turn around Nick has dropped his pants, lowering his shorts until they’re just covering his junk. He leans back, spreading his legs on either side of the seat. With his hands, he makes a motion over the hard V muscles flanking his lower abdomen. “Right here between the cum gutters.”
Needless to say, his cock bulges against his cotton shorts.
It’s instantly obvious that everyone, male and female, is turning to watch my man put his body on display. Cheeks heating, I suggest, “Maybe we should go upstairs.”
Nick follows my gaze around the room, an impish chuckle escaping his throat. “Who’s jealous now?” But he doesn’t shrink away from the attention. If anything, he leans into it, grabbing my hand to tug me closer. When I duck down, close enough for him to speak into my ear, he whispers, “I want everyone to see.”
Remy drags his chair over and places it right in front of Nick, “Here you go, Vinny.” I’ll basically be positioned between Nick’s legs, trapped by both of their hot, piercing gazes, only then Remy is the one to sit in it.
Spreading his legs, Remy pats the chair, beckoning me.
Inhaling, I work myself in between them, tingling at the feel of Remy’s warm hands on my hips, guiding my ass right up against his crotch as I perch over Nick’s. Remy’s smooth, beer-laced breath brushes over my ear. “Good?” he asks, a box of sterile gloves suddenly appearing in my lap.
No, I should say. There’s no way I’m going to be able to focus with Nick’s dick in my face and Remy’s pressing against my ass. I’m pinned right between them, the skin on the back of my neck prickling with sweat, and it’s all I can do not to squirm around, feeling my own building wetness.
“How do you do this?” I ask Remy, even though I don’t mean to.
“Tattoo someone?” Remy asks, sounding confused. Only then he hooks two fingers around my hair, brushing it over my shoulder, and he must see the ember of heat in my eyes, because he laughs, low and teasing into the juncture of my neck. “Yeah, it’s a lot of nice skin for you, huh, Vinny?”
Nick’s eyebrows pull together in confusion. “What?”
I shoot Remy a warning look–Don’t–but he pretends to not see it. “We’re getting her horny.” Ignoring my outraged expression, he says to me, “I’m always horny when I put ink on you. All that purple and red… it just makes it better. You’ll understand the next time you see it, all healed and waiting for you.” His fingers reach up, brushing the top of my cleavage where the moth rests. He whispers, “Then you’ll feel how much it’s yours.”
I shudder at the feel of his lips against my ear, trying to get myself together. Nodding, I pull out two latex gloves, giving in to the impulse to squirm–right up against Remy’s dick.
He grunts, holding my hip. “You thought about getting it on your dick, didn’t you?” Remy asks Nick. To me, he says, “Prep the space, baby,” and hands me an antiseptic wipe next.
Nick shrugs a shoulder, forearm wedged behind his head. “Thought about it, but—” I swipe the cold cloth over his skin and he hisses, belly sinking.
“Healing time,” Remy says, finishing his sentence. “Figures.”
Sy wanders over just as I’m blowing over the antiseptic on Nick’s skin, watching the ripple in his abs. I don’t even know how the hell, but like Remy, and now Nick, Sy has lost his shirt, too. “What’s going on?” he asks, tipping a beer bottle to his lips before passing it to Nick.
“Getting my victory tat.” Nick grins down at me, eyes heavy and glazed as he takes a drink from the beer. “Lavinia’s doing it.”
He rolls his eyes and raises his eyebrow at Remy. “He got jealous. I told you.”
“You told him?” Nick says, passing the beer to Remy next. “You’re talking about me behind my back like little bitches?”
Sy shrugs. “Anything I say behind your back, I’d say to your face. I knew you were going to get jealous when you saw Remy’s tattoo. You’re such a spoiled little shit.”
“Whatever,” Nick says, his bitterness only lasting a moment. “You ready, Little Bird?”
I pick up the tattoo gun, comfortable with the weight of it in my hand these days. “You never told me what you want me to put on you.”
Flippantly, Nick says, “It’ll be easy. No templates. No drawings. I just want two letters in your own handwriting.” His fingertips trace over the area. “L.B.”
Face growing hotter, I realize, “For Little Bird.”
His eyes hold mine for a heartbeat, the muscle in the back of his jaw ticcing. “Yeah, for Little Bird.”
I scoot the chair I’m sharing with Remy close enough that it’s touching the front of Nick’s, all of our legs cramped and tangled, yet somehow fitting perfectly. Leaning forward, I use the hard, flat plane of his lower abdomen to keep my hand steady.
“Is this good?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at Remy.
He assesses the space, “A smidge to the right.”
“A smidge?” Nick asks, but I do as he suggests and Remy nods.
“That’s centered.”
My hair falls forward and Nick reaches down to tuck it behind my ear. A shiver runs down my spine. Voice strained, I say, “Nick. You can’t touch me while I’m doing this.”
“No?” His eyes drop to my chest. That chill made my nipples peak.
“Not if you want it to look legible.”
Remy’s hand gathers up my hair, giving me a full view of Nick’s bare abdomen as he watches me. “That better?” Remy asks.
“Yeah, thanks.”
Nick says, “So he can touch you?”
I swear to God. “Nick.”
He licks his bottom lip. “Go ahead, I’m ready.”
It’s almost an impossible task to be this close to him, to smell him, the soapy scent from his post fight shower. The hint of tequila when he breathes. The warm heat coming off his skin. I force myself not to look at the way his cock swells under the thin fabric of his shorts, or the goosebumps rising off his skin when the needle makes contact. I give him what he wants. The L and B, a stamp of ownership over his most important organ, in handwriting that’s entirely my own. There’s part of me that knows this is deranged, that no normal girl would tie themselves to a man like this—to men like this.
But since when have I been normal?
By the time I finish the last loop on the B, Nick’s cock is hard as nails, the head almost pushing out of the elastic of his boxers near his hip. I pull back a bit, the buzz of the gun finally ceasing, and place my palm right over his hardness, the motion full of cool nonchalance.
Nick spits a low, “Fuck,” and bucks into it, but I’m already pulling away.
Sy’s rough, quiet voice rings out. “So you and Nick are definitely fucking tonight.”
When I look up, his hooded eyes are assessing us, taking the bottle of beer the three of them have been passing around in the same circuit the whole tattoo. “Him, too?” he adds, tipping the neck of the bottle toward Remy.
He’s just as hard against my ass as Nick is in front of my face. “Maybe,” I say, feeling Remy grinding his boner into me.
There was a time such a declaration would make that old, familiar bitterness fill Sy’s eyes. Now he just watches us, not even bothering to hide the bulge in his own pants. “You could do it in my bed.”
Nick looks up from his new tattoo to share a glance with Remy, and then me. I let him decide. Nick is the victor, and he was right before. The spoils are his to claim. If he wants me alone tonight, then that’s what I’ll give him.
“You know me.” His dick gives a frighteningly obvious twitch. “I’m always down to put on a show.”
“Porterfield!” Sy suddenly barks, downing the rest of the beer in two gulps as the recruit makes his way over, winded and covered in a cutslut’s dark red boa.
“Yeah, boss?”
Sy pushes the empty bottle into Porterfield’s chest. “You and Ballsack are on closing duty.”
Remy’s always had this way of kissing me. It’s not just his tongue and greedy lips, or the way his hands grab two big handfuls of my ass as he slams me up against the wall. It’s something distinctly spiritual, like he’s gathering me up into his own gravity, consuming me, body and soul.
When I manage to find my vision, his eyes are all I see, piercing right through me as he slips my panties down my thighs. It’s dark upstairs in the main living area. Remy barely got through the door before descending on me like a prowler. Somewhere behind us, I can vaguely hear Sy and Nick, breathing and shifting, the sound of fabric hitting the floor, but all I can really absorb is the brush of Remy’s fingers between my legs, gathering my wetness.
His tongue traces my lips in the same path his fingers take, slow and teasing, the hint of a threat in the way he hovers around my entrance, tongue poised to push through my parted lips.
The second he pushes inside–fingers, tongue–I let out an agonized keen, arching into each penetration, already desperate for more. He pins me there as his free hand reaches for the button on his pants, clawing it open and shoving them down.
It’s always more frantic with Remy since that night on the cliffs, and tonight is no different. He hoists me up and I cling to him instinctually, my legs winding around his hips.
From behind him, Nick snorts. “Everyone’s always acting like I’m spoiled, but look at me, letting him take first dibs, even though I’m the vict–”
I gasp loud and sharp as Remy enters me, his green eyes boring into mine as he sinks to the hilt. I say his name, and he hooks a hand beneath my chin, holding me still as he kisses me, deep and commanding. It’s both better and worse than it used to be with him. Better, because it’s so electric. Worse, because it’s so consuming. My lungs burn with the need to breathe, but the fire between my legs won’t let me, Remy’s cock dragging away only to punch back into me.
It takes me a long time to realize Sy is talking. “…take her into the room. Come on.” Remy’s body stiffens suddenly, and Sy adds, “Chill out. Just get her into the bed. Christ.”
There’s a low, mournful sound, and I’m surprised to find it’s coming from me. The thought of losing the fullness makes my thighs clench around his waist, but Remy has no intention of abandoning me. He just hooks an arm around my back and wrenches me close, carrying me effortlessly toward Sy’s bedroom. Every jostling step he takes pushes his dick a little deeper, and I hang onto his neck and savor it.
That’s when I finally catch sight of Nick and Sy.
Both of them are already stark naked, erections bobbing heavily between their thighs as they follow us. Nick reaches down to fist his when our gazes meet, raising his chin.
“Don’t come until I tell you to,” he says in a spine-chillingly sinister timbre. “Understood?”
Feeling dazed and too horny to think about how annoying that’ll be, I nod, mouthing idly at Remy’s salty neck. “Okay, Nick.”
I’m so fixated on watching their bodies that I don’t even know we’ve arrived until Remy abruptly lowers me onto a soft mattress, following me all the way down.
His dick never once slips out.
“Where were we?” The impish smirk he gives me tells me how proud he is of that fact, but then he’s curling a hand behind each of my knees and shoving them up, bending me in half as he thrusts impossibly deeper.
I claw at his shoulders, trapped between his body and the bed as he pistons his hips, driving back into me with a hard, jarring thrust. “Oh, fuck,” I gasp, staring down my body at how close we’re pressed together. Remy’s looking too, and I know he’s seeing the same things.
Our tattoos–moon and star–meeting the way they were always meant to.
“Get this off,” I hear, and then hands appear from over my head–tattooed knuckles, must be Nick–tugging at my top. Remy’s mouth descends to my breast the moment it’s uncovered, Nick wrestling the top up my arms and over my head.
While Remy sucks on one nipple, Nick fondles the other, pillowing my head on his thigh. I turn my head and see his cock, hard and waiting for me, the letter’s LB emblazoned right above the root, but he doesn’t tell Remy to hurry.
He says, “Fuck her hard. Get that pussy nice and wet for me. That feel good, baby?” Nick says the last part while stroking my hair back, and I look up into blazing blue eyes.
“Nick,” I moan, biting my lip hard as Remy buries a grunt into my neck. “Can I… come? Please?”
Completely stone-faced, Nick wraps his hand around my calf, bending me further for Remy. “Not yet.”
Remy fucks me like he has something to prove–not to Nick, nor to Sy, who I can feel on his back beside us, watching–but to himself. He fucks me like he’s telling himself it’s okay to lose control here, his cheeks growing red as he grunts, slamming me into the bed.
I feel him swell inside of me, but even if I didn’t, the way his face hardens, brows crashing together as he stiffens would be enough to tell me he’s coming. I wind my fingers into his hair and ride it out, thighs clenching uselessly as I desperately try to take every drop of him into my body.
“Fuck,” Remy growls, lips dragging wetly across my mouth. “So much blue…” He kisses me then, slow and slick, his cock growing soft inside of me as he palms my breast, drawing it out.
Nick eventually reaches the end of his generosity, disappearing from behind me only to round the bed, kicking at Remy’s ankles. “Enjoy your afterglow after rolling ten inches to the left.”
Groaning, Remy rolls away, leaving me cold and squirming. Nick is already kneeling up onto the bed though, blue eyes dropping to my thighs as he flips my skirt up, baring my used pussy.
He fists his cock, saying, “Come look,” and it isn’t until Sy appears, sitting up to peer between my legs, that I realize who he’s talking to.
Biting my lip, I spread my thighs for them, knowing my face must be magenta. Expecting the wave of hot humiliation, I find nothing but a low, simmering arousal in its place as Sy and Nick stare down at me, stroking their cocks.
“Jesus, Remy,” Sy whispers, wetting his lips. “That’s like a gallon of jizz.”
Fingers touch my chin, Remy turning my face to meet his slack gaze. “I save it up for her,” he says, pitching forward to give me another slow, sensuous kiss. While I’m wrapped up in that, Sy takes my skirt off. I don’t need to look to know it’s him. I can tell just from the warmth of his fingertips, the roughness of them, the awkward skitter they make over my thighs as he pulls the skirt off.
But the tongue that descends on my clit is all Nick. It makes me jolt, and when I whip my gaze down, Nick stares up at me with a warning look, licking out to caress my folds.
“Now?” I ask, already on the edge of begging for my own orgasm.
Nick shakes his head, tongue sweeping back and forth over that bundle of nerves. “Not until I say,” he replies, dipping to lick a hard stripe from my entrance to my clit.
All of Remy’s spent cum is gathered on Nick’s tongue.
“Hey!” Remy makes a low, frustrated sound. “Give it back to her, Nicky.”
Nick’s eyes flick to his, then back to mine, and suddenly he’s surging up, pushing the cum into my mouth with a filthy, slippery kiss. It tastes just like Remy, sharp and hot, and I take it back with an aggression that startles even me, curling my hand behind Nick’s neck. I hold him close as I suck Remy from his tongue, chasing every last drop when Nick rears back.
“It’s my turn,” he says, jerking his chin at Sy. “Get on top of him.”
Sy tenses as I turn, slinging a leg over his hips to straddle him. “Nick,” he hisses, hands steadying my hips as I push him to lay flat. “Come on, don’t be an asshole.”
“You wanted a show,” Nick says, moving to get behind me. Planting a palm between my shoulders, he pushes me down, until I’m on my hands and knees, hovering over Sy’s naked body. “Front row seats, big brother.”
Sy’s throat jumps with a swallow, but I can see his pupils blow wide as his gaze wanders down, settling heavily on my breasts. His voice comes rushed and strained. “Fuck, Lav, I’m not going to last long enough for him to even get inside–”
But he’s cut off by my sharp cry, Nick having already lined himself up, entering me with a slow, powerful thrust. I tip my hips up to him, taking him as far as he can go, and Nick grips the back of my hair with stinging pressure, releasing a barely-restrained rumble.
“Goddamn, you’re wet,” he growls, hips rocking into my ass. Sy’s staring into my eyes with a dazed expression, watching me take his brother’s cock, and it makes me clench around the fullness. Nick says, “He’s not the one fucking you.” Any plans I might have to dip down to kiss Sy are wiped away by Nick’s gruff, commanding voice. “Look at me.”
Pushing up, I twist to meet his gaze, but Nick’s already yanking me up against his body, hand gripping my chin for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss.
He never even closes his eyes.
“That’s my good girl,” he says, pushing his hips into mine. When my mouth drops open in ecstasy, he takes the opportunity to slide two of his fingers through my lips, the pads salty on my tongue. After a moment, he moves his gaze to Sy. “You want to know the best part about fucking her?”
Sy’s expression shutters, eyes fixed to the way my mouth is wrapped around Nick’s fingers. “What?” he asks, voice curt and cold.
Nick smirks. “The look on her face when she takes your cock? It’s as close to being powerless as she’ll ever let you see her.” He turns, lips grazing over my cheek as I tip my head back on his shoulder, moaning. “That’s the secret, you know. It’s not flowers or fancy dates. It’s seeing her like this and knowing the value of it. Respecting it. Waiting to be given something instead of just taking it by force. It took me a while to get it, too.”
I look down at Sy through heavy eyelids, Nick hard and full inside me, and see the moment it finally clicks. Nick knows. He knows the same way Sy now knows, and how Remy beside us came to understand it, as well.
I’ve never given myself to anyone the way I’ve given myself to these men.
Nick finally relents with his teasing, grabbing my hips and punching into my body with a relentlessness that makes me fold. When I bow my back, desperate to get more of him, Sy’s hands are the ones to find me, framing my face as he rises to push a kiss to my mouth. It’s slow and sweet, a stark contrast to the jolts of my body as his brother fucks me hard, knocking me and Sy together in an unforgiving tempo.
It’s a battle not to come, my fingers twisting frantically in the sheets as each slam of Nick’s hips sends my clit grazing against the hard shaft of Sy’s cock. The only thing that staves it off is opening my eyes to meet Sy’s, letting myself get lost in the ocean of blue.
Nick feels animalistic when he comes, slamming into me with a snarl as his cock surges. For a long moment, everything goes still as he fills me up, pumping me with slick heat. I feel the tension draining out of him with each jerk of his cock, even though my own muscles are still coiled tight, clit so sensitive that a strong gust of air could probably send me over the edge.
“Nick,” I rasp, rocking back into him. It sends my clit skating over Sy’s length and I shudder, forehead dropping to Sy’s sternum. “Please…”
Nick’s hand caresses the curve of my ass as he pulls out, saying, “Remy. It’s time.”
My brain is so hyperfocused on my aching core that it doesn’t even occur to me it could be time for anything else but a nice, hard orgasm.
And then Sy lurches up, saying, “Hey! What the fuck?”
“Stay still, fucker.” Remy’s voice is low and strained, and when I finally lift my head to see what’s going on, he’s wrestling a pair of cuffs around Sy’s wrists, the chain threaded through a slat in the headboard. With one last grunt, Remy closes the cuff, backing away from the bed with a glare. “Jesus, try to get a brother laid and how does he repay you?”
Sy stares over his head at the cuffs, tugging futilely. “This isn’t funny,” he barks, swinging his glare on Nick, who’s currently wiping off his dick with one of Sy’s towels. “Nick. Take them off.”
“Nope,” Nick replies, tossing the towel aside. His face is flushed nicely, eyes soft in that special post-fuck way. “Here’s the thing, big brother. Our girl wants your dick, and you obviously want to give it to her, but all you’ve been doing is getting hornier and hornier.”
Flopping back to the bed, Remy kicks up a knee, already looking half asleep. “We’re here to make sure you lay that pipe responsibly.”
I look at Sy, who’s finally stopped struggling against the cuffs, and I imagine it. Taking his cock. Sinking down. Watching the look on his face when he can’t move.
Unthinkingly, I grind down, pussy clenching on the emptiness Nick’s left me with.
Sy tenses, eyebrows knitting together. “Yeah?” When he speaks, I know it’s only meant for me. “This is doing it for you?”
I nod, rocking my hips. “Do you…? Want to?”
“So fucking much.” Raw heat flickers across his face, that look he gets right before he succumbs to the thing he loves the most, losing control. This way we can both get what we want.
Finally.
