Juliet
They all eat dinner like men starved.
Clean the table.
Then look at me.
Hunger like nothing I’ve ever seen.
“Showers. Then to the room,” I say.
Clothes fall off on the way to the bathroom.
Someone starts the water.
Steam fills the room.
Body wash and rags get tossed from hand to hand.
Suds and fingers are everywhere.
Teeth and tongue.
I don’t even know who washes who.
Don’t think they do either.
Doesn’t matter.
The goal is shared.
Clean naked bodies in the playroom.
Six of them.
Mine.
Still glistening.
Towels wrapped loosely around them.
Seated like kings, or prowling the edges like wolves pretending to behave.
The air’s thick with heat and tension and something feral that slinks around my ankles like a leash I never asked permission to hold.
“Towels off,” I say, just to see who moves first.
Callum’s first. Already leaking for me.
Good boy.
Vitaly hesitates, and it only makes my mouth go dry. That wide-eyed, uncertain flash in him hasn’t learned yet that everything pleasureful goes here.
I walk past them like I’m selecting weapons.
Reid’s jaw is tight.
Orion’s already hard.
