“Perfect.”
The world goes dark. Every other sense sharpens. I hear fabric rustling and footsteps on the hardwood floor moving around me. I’m ready for this.
“New rule, Red.” Callum’s somewhere to my left. “You have to guess which one of us is touching you.”
I try to track everyone's location. “And if I guess wrong?”
Evan is to my right now. “We stop and make you wait.”
Oh. Stakes.
Hands land on my shoulders from behind. Warm. Broad palms, gentle pressure. The touch is careful, checking.
“Evan.”
“Good girl.”
His palms slide down my arms.
Different hands are at my ankles. Rougher. More aggressive. Spreading my legs apart where I’m sitting.
“Callum.”
He laughs. “Too easy. We’re not even trying yet.”
Four hands now. Working together. I can’t track who’s doing what. My shirt gets pulled over my head, cool air hits my skin, and fingers are at the button of my jeans.
Who unbuttoned them?I’ll have to guess.“Callum on the jeans.”
Everything stops.
“Wrong.”
I make a frustrated noise.
“See?” Callum chuckles. “Gotta pay attention.”
They resume. My jeans slide down my legs. Evan’s hands—apparently—pull them off completely. I’m in my bra and underwear now.
I’m hyperaware of every sensation.
They switch positions and move around me. I hear them circling. Then there’s a mouth on my neck. Soft. He takes time with the kiss; there’s no rushing.
“Evan.”
“Correct.”
Fingers trace my collarbone—light, teasing, and testing to see if I’ll react.
I hesitate and focus on the intent behind the touch, the challenge in it.
“Callum.”
He squeezes my thigh. “Damn. She’s getting good at this.”
Hands unhook my bra. It falls away. My nipples tighten in the cool air.
Then there’s a mouth on my right breast. Teeth grazing. Aggressive. No warm-up.
