His mischievous eyes take in my tight tank top and denim cut-offs.
“Wanna play a game?” he asks in the creepiest voice he can muster, and I laugh.
I nod, pasting on my practiced smile once more—this is my main job, after all. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”
He points over my shoulder, and I turn to see what he’s pointing at. It’s not awhatbut awho. Mac. As if sensing us staring, he turns and heads our way. “You still wanna play?”
I picture Midas leaning over Kiki as he thrusts inside her and find myself nodding. “I’m game.”
“Fuck yes,” he growls, slinging his arm around my shoulders.
“My place or yours?”
I’m about to answer, thinking he’s talking to me, when Mac says, “We live together, dickhead.”
I look between them and frown. “You don’t live here? How have I never noticed that before?”
“No, we do. Just in one of the apartments you pass on the way up here.”
“Ah, okay.” I bite my lip, waiting for them to tell me what’s next.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Mac asks.
“Are you going to hurt me?”
He frowns. “No.”
“Then I’m sure.”
He studies my face, probably checking to see if I’m telling the truth. Whatever he sees must satisfy him, because he nods to Toot. “Lead the way.”
I don’t bother looking at anyone as we leave, I just follow them out and let them lead me to their apartment. I don’t get to take it in, though, because the second we step inside, their hands are all over me.
This isn’t the first time I’ve slept with two guys. Hell, I’ve slept with more than two at a time. I’ve had painful experiences and ones filled with pleasure.
Over the years, I’ve learned to compartmentalize—push some things aside, lock others away—because if I hadn’t, I’d be a basket case rocking in the corner... or worse. I think it helps that I don’t know anything different. When I watch a chick flick or a high school movie, it feels so far removed from my reality that I can’t relate to it.
My mind snaps back to the present, and I’m standing before them, naked. As they take me in, I notice that neither of them has removed a stitch of clothing, and somehow, that makes me feel more vulnerable than the fact that there are two of them.
As if sensing my unease, Toot shrugs off his cut and lays it over the back of the sofa. “In here, we’re not bikers and bunnies. You’re just Legs. He’s just Mac.” Toot nods toward his brother, who’s removing his cut. “And I’m just some stupidly hot bastard ready to be your sacrificial lamb and worship at your altar.”
I burst out laughing, and Mac groans. I look at him, my cheeks sore from smiling. “Is he always like this?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Toot grins. “He loves me, really.” Then he looks at Mac. “Sofa or bed?”
“Bed.”
Toot salutes, then turns and squats down with his back to me. “Climb aboard.”
I look at Mac, confused. “Um… he wants to give me a piggyback ride?”
“Just go with it.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one that’s naked,” I grumble as I climb on and wrap my arms and legs around Toot, holding on tight when he stands.
Mac moves so he’s standing beside me, his fingertips trailing down my spine. “But see, if you weren’t naked, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”
