“Yeah.” Alaina grins now. “If anything,you guysare going to backpack whileIride away from you both.”
I throw my head back and laugh, while Mason mutters something under his breath, probably a prayer or a curse, but he doesn’t say no, so we load up the van.
Mason is quiet again, and I’d tease him for it, but he’s hyperfocused, strapping the motocross into the rear hangar. Alaina rolls her eyes at how meticulous he’s being, but I catch the way her gaze lingers on his hands. Greasy, skilled,and currently cinching down the last strap with a grunt that’s way filthier than it should be.
Yeah,Petite, our pretty boy is hot as fuck.
“Can I drive?” I ask casually, twirling the van keys around my finger.
Mason wipes his hands on a rag again and shrugs. “I can. It’s my van.”
“But I know the way,” I say, nodding toward the cab. “Easier that way.”
He considers me for a second, then nods. “Sure. Fine.”
We climb in, me in the driver’s seat, Mason opening the passenger door, and Alaina hovering, gaze flicking between the two of us. Her eyes land on the crowded bench of the back row, half buried in tools and spare parts. It’s a death trap on wheels back there.
“I can be in the back,” she offers, already halfway turning.
“No way,” Mason says instantly. “It’s way too dangerous with all the tools rolling around when we’re in motion. You can sit with me.”
He sits down and reaches out, catches her waist, and pulls her effortlessly into his lap, before he pulls the seat belt over both of them and clicks it into place.
“That okay, Bambi?” he murmurs, voice low and brushed with something that makesmyneck flush.
Alaina’s cheeks go crimson as she nods once, eyes wide and shimmering, anddamn, she really does look like a startled deer right now. Soft, wide-eyed, a little breathless.
Aaand, I’mhard.
Shifting in my seat, I try to make it look like I’m adjusting my phone or something. Definitelynotrepositioning myself because my girl just went full shy mode on my man’s lap.
I’m going to dream about this scenario, but we’re all going to wear much less clothing.
I turn the key. The engine rumbles to life beneath us, and the van jerks forward a little too eagerly. Glancing over as we pull out, I catch the sight of Mason’s arms snug around her waist, Alaina leaning back into him like she’s known the shape of him her whole life.
Fuck, those two are dangerous together.
Like cliff edges or lightning.
Like sex you feel three days later and still want more of.
And maybe, if I’m patient enough, if I play it right, there’s a way I could slide right into themiddleof them.
Mason said he’s a top, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since, because yeah, thanks toPetite, my brain has done more than flirt with the idea of gay sex. I’veimaginedit, messy sheets and moaning and a lot of butt stuff, but I always figuredPetitewould be the one with the knees up, flushed and begging.
Now it seems that if I want that ride,I’mthe one getting it. It’s not like I’m opposed to it. I’m just new, curious, maybe even cautious.
Hell, I should order some toys, do some test rides by myself, and learn the terrain. I don’t want Mason to think I’m a clueless virgin who doesn’t know what he does or doesn’t like.
My eyes flick to him again, and how he’s tracing slow circles on the flowers on Alaina’s forearm, lips ghosting the side of her head.
And fuck me, I just know Mason would be nice about it. Gentle, patient. He’d make it feel good for me. I trust him.
I mean, I’m letting him hold my girl like that, while I’m driving and we’re all squished in the front seat, pretending it’s not the weirdest, most intimate throuple moment of the year.
That’s how much I trust him.
I trust him with her.
