Brayden reaches for me, but Asher stills him, hand around his wrist. “Are you going to stop me from touching my wife?” Brayden asks, sounding more like his usual self.
Asher rolls his eyes, though there’s something fond in the gesture. “Savannah wants us both. Do you think we should give that to her?”
“I think we should give her everything she asks for.” Brayden says it like he’s talking about more than just whatever we do tonight.
“And what if that’s both of us”—Asher drags out the question like he’s enjoying ratcheting up Brayden’s temper—“at the same time?”
Brayden flushes again. “That’s up to Sav.” Even if it’s obvious from the way his cock is straining against his sweats—and the eager look in his eyes—that he’s into the idea.
I look between them—at the bruises Brayden carries that he claims don’t hurt and the scar at Asher’s collarbone he wants to conceal. Two dozen guys in the clubhouse might see those, but I’m the one who gets to know what they mean. I want to be with both of them, now, together, in whatever form this takes.
I smile and arch my back, my body on full display, unashamed. “Generally, for a proposal, isn’t it traditional to get down on your knees?”
I’mthe one who ends up on my knees. Asher pulls me up from the bed, kisses me thoroughly. “Take off your shoes.” He smirks. “I don’t want to lose an eye.”
After I kick off my shoes, he guides me back onto the bed and onto my hands and knees—my face hovers over Brayden’s cock, my ass up in the air. My bra and panties are both sheer purple lace. I feel more than naked—all my desires exposed in how my nipples strain hard against my bra, in how I’m already getting wet when they’ve barely touched me.
Asher positions himself behind me. He’s shed his joggers but he’s in black boxer briefs that match the ink of his tattoo. He sweeps my hair to the side, kisses my shoulders, down the line of my back until he reaches the waistband of my panties. “Think your husband wants to watch you ride my tongue?” he asks.
He sayshusbandlike he always does—a little meanly—but there’s something almost wistful about that now. Brayden’s my husband, I’m his wife, and Asher is…
I don’t know what Asher thinks he is to us.
I don’t have time to answer. Asher kisses me again as he slides my panties off, not on my pussy but right at the top of my ass. My entire body flushes hot. “You’re going to—” I choke out.
Asher kisses me again, softer this time. “Is that something you like?”
Somehow, I go even warmer. “I don’t know. No one’s done it before.”
That makes Asher glance up. He’s glaring at Brayden as if that’s Brayden’s fault and?—
Right. He still thinks we’re really married, that Brayden and I have been together longer than a few days.
Brayden’s expression turns guilty. “I, uh, I mean we…” For a second, I wonder if he’s going to leave it at that. Then he rolls his shoulders, gazes at Asher defiantly. “At church they told us eating pussy makes you gay, and I do that. So I could do this too, probably.”
Asher goes through various expressions before landing onwhat the fuck?at whoever had said that to Brayden. “Let’s see if Sav likes it then,” Asher says, as if it’s that simple and maybe it is.
Brayden wraps his hands around my wrists—not holding me in place, exactly, but grounding me. “She can get loud,” Brayden warns.
“That’s what I’m counting on.” Asher runs his thumbs over my lower back, then parts my ass, licks against my hole, pulls back and spits on me once. It should feel degrading, but there’s something careful about it—how he rubs the pad of his finger against my rim before kissing around his finger, working the tip in gently.
I wasn’t lying before when I said no one ever offered to do this before. Other men have barely bothered toaskbefore trying to stick it in and then playing it off as a mistake when I objected.I was prepared to have to endure this part, but from him it feels…good, like every nerve in my body is starting to light up.
Brayden shifts one of his hands to rest softly on my hair. A strand of it catches the silicone of his wedding ring. “He taking care of you?” he asks.
“You gonna do the same?” I tease.
Brayden’s expression goes devilish. He kisses me once despite it being a bad angle, then lets his hands drift down toward my breasts. He pinches my nipples softly at first then harder when I raise an eyebrow at him, palming both my tits and groaning like he’s the one being touched.
“It doesn’t bother you?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
Brayden frowns at me, clearly confused.
“One of my breasts is larger than the other.” I don’t know why I said it—it must be obvious to him now that he’s holding both of them, in all the times he’s touched me before.
“When I first met you,” he says, “the first thing I thought was,this girl is way too good for me. Too hot, too smart, too funny, too kind. The next thing I thought was that I wanted to paint your tits with my come.”
From behind me, Asher licks me again, pulls off, then plunges two fingers into my pussy, making me squirm with pleasure. “You’re smarter than you look,” he says to Brayden, the kind of thing that a month ago might have made them get into a fight on the field.
