I tried to answer, but only managed a soft whimper. Speech was a distant concept. Language had left the building. All I could do was clutch at Milo, my face mashed against his pectoral muscle, inhaling the salt and leather and sex clinging to his skin.
I heard the mattress creak as Xavier eased off the bed, moving with that catlike grace that didn’t fit someone who’d just gone feral on my ass. He was careful with me, even as he withdrew, one broad palm supporting my hip, steadying me until I’d settled all the way down on Milo.
Xavier moved quietly around the room, cleaning up, then returned to wipe me clean. Milo wrapped me in the covers, and the three of us curled together, the silence easy and warm. My stomach growled, and Milo laughed.
“She’s rebooting. Hungry?”
I groaned against his skin. “Starving. I think you two fucked half my electrolytes out.”
Next to us, Xavier huffed, not quite a laugh, but not a protest either.
Milo stroked my hair, his palm wide and steady against my scalp. “You want us to order some food?”
I just nodded into his chest, still wrung out, barely capable of stringing together a sentence.
“X, what do you want? I’m thinking Chinese. June? You good with that?”
“I’ll order. Doesn’t matter,” Xavier said, tugging on his jeans, then wandering off down the hall.
Milo pulled the covers up around me, tucking me in like I was the center of gravity in his universe. “In the name of clear communication, you did good, babygirl” he whispered, quiet just for me. “It felt so damn good. And I’ve never seen X like that. He fucking lost it.”
My cheeks flamed, but I couldn’t help grinning. “Really? Why isn’t he cuddling with us, then?”
“He’s just taking a minute to get his head on straight. X is the one who keeps bringing up you. Every time. He might act cold, but he’s totally obsessed.”
I snorted, half-embarrassed, half-delighted, and snuggled closer. “You can come do that to me anytime. Though preferably on a reliable schedule. And maybe with what edging.” “Psh. You loved the edging.” “I did not!” “You loved how hard you came after being edged, though.” “Okay. Yes, maybe that.”
Chapter 9
Milo
After a rough coupleof days at work, a ride through the canyons should have been exactly what I needed, but by the end of it, I was still antsy. Our friends scattered as we got to the edge of town, the other riders peeling off one by one, headed home, or to work, or to wherever else they had to be. I stuck with Xavier. He didn’t signal or check if I was following—he never did—just banked left onto Cypress Avenue instead of taking the road that led home.
My stomach tightened with anticipation. I knew these turns by now, knew exactly where he was leading us. She’d set the schedule, telling us our days were Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. And it was a Tuesday, which meant she would let us in, let pretend for a few hours that she was ours, that we could win someone as beautiful and brilliant as June. Xavier never talked about what happened when we showed up at her place, but heseemed drawn to her, like he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t fight the pull.
And me? I didn’t want to fight it at all. She was funny, gorgeous, and adventurous in bed. And being with her gave me a chance to touch him, even if only in the smallest, most accidental ways. His bare thighs slid against mine as he filled her ass while I fucked her pussy. His hands covered mine as we both gripped her thighs while he ate her out like a man starved, watching her arch and writhe.
She took well to my kinks, pouting only a little as I tuned her body the way I’d tune one of my bikes, taking her to a reckless, beautiful high before plunging inside her and losing myself in the way her inner muscles quivered around me.
I stuck close to his back wheel, watching the confident way he leaned into each turn, all fluid grace and instinct. We wound through residential streets that had become familiar.
He never asked if I wanted to go. Never texted her to see if she was home or busy or in the mood. Never bothered with any of the normal human steps that preceded showing up at someone’s doorstep expecting to fuck them senseless. If it was one of our days, X followed some internal compass that pointed straight to her, and I followed him because there was nowhere else I wanted to be than with them.
I was addicted to June’s soft gasps when we first pushed into her. Addicted to X’s face when he was buried deep, that rare moment when his guard dropped completely. Addicted to theway we moved together, all three of us, like we’d been doing this for years instead of weeks. It was beyond good sex. It was turning into something else, something I couldn’t stop chasing.
We rounded the final corner, and there it was—June’s craftsman house with its sage green exterior and wide porch. And there she was, curled up on her porch swing, book in hand, completely absorbed. She hadn’t heard our bikes yet, giving me a moment to just look at her. She wore a thin tank top and some kind of flowy skirt, her bare feet tucked underneath her, hair twisted up in that messy way she did when the strands tickled her neck. Her glasses had slipped down her nose, and she was wearing the a necklace with spinning parts that she flicked with her fingers as she read.
She was beautiful in that effortless way that made my chest ache. Not model-beautiful or Instagram-beautiful, but real beautiful—the kind where I wanted to watch her read for hours, wanted to hear her ramble about engine efficiency and the molecular structure of battery components, wanted to feel her bare skin against mine in the early morning light.
Xavier cut his engine at the curb, the sudden silence startling June from her book. She looked up, and the way her face transformed—from startled to delighted to hungry in the span of seconds—sent a jolt of heat straight to my groin. I killed my own engine and pulled off my helmet as X swung his leg over his bike with that effortless grace that always made me feel slightly clumsy in comparison.
“What chapter are you on?” Xavier called up to her, his voice carrying that edge it got when he was already thinking aboutgetting her naked. “The one where she’s riding two guys at once, or the one where they’re tag-teaming her against a wall?”
June’s laugh was bright and uninhibited. “Chapter fifteen,” she called back, holding up the book so we could see the cover—two shirtless men bracketing a woman whose dress was halfway off her shoulder. “They just figured out they both want each other as much as they want her.”
I dismounted from my bike, climbing the porch steps two at a time. “So you’re getting yourself all wet and ready for us with your little stories?”
Anyone else might have blushed, stammered, played coy. Not June. She slipped a bookmark in, set the book aside, and looked me straight in the eye with that disarming directness of hers.
