I’m the last one awake. Typical. It’s my job to keep watch over this crazy family. I want to do it forever. I breathe deep. Peaceful. Sleep is coming. I kiss the top of her head, and she shimmies unconsciously. And burps.
I almost snort a laugh. Salem does. Houston takes a breath that could be a laugh. But we settle in tight, and the night takes us all.
EPILOGUE
LOU
The first weekon the road feels like a test I didn’t study for. My bus rides smooth, my desk is bolted down, the lamp is perfect, the driver is a saint—and I still get queasy the minute the wheels roll.
Ginger chews help. So does staring at the horizon and breathing through my nose like a yoga video. I keep crackers in a cup by the keyboard and try not to think about it.
By afternoon, my stomach settles and I get work done. Type rules, show rolls, a new slide for the opener. I ping the guys with revised captions and a note about a lens I want swapped. They answer with thumbs-ups and a string of checkmarks. It’s our normal, or it passes for it.
We hit the hotel late, and my body sighs in relief at the stillness. The suite smells like soap and paper and the kind of air that doesn’t move. I shower the day off and put on a soft tee and shorts, and sit on the couch with my legs tucked under me. Houston hauls in a tray from room service. Knox checks the locks. Salem falls face-first on the bed for exactly nine seconds, then pops up like he’s powered by a switch.
They’re all running hot with tour night energy. I should be tired. I’m not. The queasy edge drops away. The quiet snaps tight, good tight. We eat fries and pick at a salad and pretend the tray is dinner.
Salem is the first one to admit it. He drops a grape in my mouth and grins like a teenager. “You’re not green anymore.”
“I’m fine,” I say, lying halfway and enjoying it anyway.
Houston takes my plate and sets it aside. He sits close. Knox settles on my other side and turns his body to face me, as if he’s guarding a door. Salem kneels on the carpet and rests his arms on my knees, and looks up like I’m the show.
I have a feeling I’m about to be.
Houston kisses me first, generous and slow. I taste salt and soda, and that low hum he carries like a pocket metronome. Salem steals the second kiss, mischief and heat in a line that makes my knees loose. Knox waits, patient, then takes my mouth like a promise and I feel the floor tilt in a way I trust.
T-shirts go up and over. I don’t do coy. I do yes.
Knox’s mouth licks a line straight up my throat. Houston’s hand on my hip, grabbing me onto his lap. Salem’s laugh against my knee, his breath hot where it counts. I slide my fingers under cotton and over ribs, into hair, around biceps that feel like home.
“Tell us,” Knox says, the commander turned soft.
“I want you. All of you. Here. Now.”
The couch becomes a stage I don’t have to fear. I’m the only one in the center, and it suits me. Houston’s mouth is on my shoulder, careful with his teeth until he isn’t. Salem kisses downmy thigh and back up, slow enough to be rude on purpose. The tease. Knox braces me with both hands and holds eye contact until I forget what it felt like to be looked at and not seen.
Knox’s breath catches when I tug his hair and pull his head between my thighs. Each of them love to go down on me, and tonight, he called dibs. Who am I to say no to that?
Houston goes quiet when I scratch the side of his neck. He kisses me deep, his hands gliding over my tits. Salem swears when I stroke him with my free hand. Through tight teeth, he hisses, “Multitasker.”
“Add that to my fee,” I tease between kisses with Houston.
It should be too much. The three of them. It isn’t. It’s exactly enough.
Suddenly, Knox yanks me down onto him, fully hard, fully inside of me. It’s a surprise that makes my cells shudder. He stands with me on his cock and carries us to the full-length mirror by the closet. There, he pulls out and sets me down, turning me to face it. He pins my hands against the mirror and murmurs in my ear. “Watch your face while I fuck you.”
I don’t have time to gasp. He pulls my hips back slightly and slides in from behind. Slow strokes. Long strokes. Long enough that I’m shaking already.
“Now, that’s not fair, Knox,” Houston says without heat. “She needs someone on her clit.”
“By all means.”
He joins us, his hand anyway. He comes in from the side to play with me there. “Can’t neglect this morsel.”
“Or her tits,” Salem says as he strolls close. He crouches between us and the mirror so he can maul my tits with his mouth as his hands skim up and down my sides.
Overload. Their specialty.
