Page 257 of What We Become

He snorts, the sound barely there, and then his hand settles on my hip, thumb tracing the bone. I freeze for half a second, surprised by the contact, then relax into it, because this is what we do now. His hand stays, warm and present, and I realize he’s watching too, his breath coming slightly faster than his usual controlled pattern.

Sage cries out, her back lifting off the bed, and Micah murmurs something against her skin that I don’t catch but she clearly feels, her whole body responding to it. When he finally lifts his head, his mouth is wet, his eyes soft and wrecked, and he kisses her once, twice, before rolling to the side.

“My turn,” I say, and move before anyone can confirm or deny.

She’s flushed and open and laughing as I crawl up the bed toward her, her legs parting to make room for me between them. I settle there, my hips pressing against hers, and when she feels me hard against her thigh she makes a pleased sound.

“Hi, wifey,” I say, because I’m romantic like that.

“Hi, hubby.”

I kiss her, deep and messy, and she meets me with equal enthusiasm, her fingers digging into my shoulders. When I pull back, her eyes are bright, pupils blown wide, and I realize I’m grinning at her like an idiot.

“What’s so funny?”

“You,” I say. “Us. The fact that I have to wait my turn to fuck my wife on my wedding night.”

She laughs, the sound vibrating through both of us. “You started this.”

“Which I regret deeply.” I lean in and brush my nose alongside hers. “But honestly, watching you is its own reward.”

She lifts her hips against me, and I groan, pressing my forehead to hers. “Kitten, you’re going to break me before I even get inside you.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Everything with you is a challenge.”

I kiss her again, slower this time, letting myself have this moment—the weight of her beneath me, the heat of her through the lace, the way her breath catches when I rock my hips just right.

I shift my weight and feel her heat against me, deliberate and teasing. “You’re dangerous,” I murmur against her jaw. “Someone should have warned me.”

“Several people did,” she says. “You ignored them.”

“Because I’m an optimist.”

She laughs, the sound catching in her throat as I rock against her again. Behind us, Eli clears his throat in that way he has—polite but pointed, a teacher managing a classroom of unruly instincts.

“Milo.”

“I know, I know. Winner’s privilege. Loser’s suffering.” I slide down her body and draw my tongue down the length of her, clit to asshole, tonguing the puckered bud.

I groan against her, the vibration traveling through both of us, and she makes a sound of pure need. I keep at it, eating her asshole while using my fingers to tease her clit until she’s trembling beneath me. The taste of her fills my senses, and I lose myself in the rhythm of it, the way she arches and gasps and finally breaks apart with a hoarse cry.

When I lift my head, she’s wrecked. Hair spread across the pillow, chest heaving, eyes glazed with pleasure. I crawl back up her body and kiss her, letting her taste herself on my tongue, and she moans into my mouth like she wants more, always more.

“Eli’s turn,” I whisper against her lips, and roll to the side. “You’re gonna have to top the rim job I just gave her. Sorry, buddy.”

Eli ignores me and moves in with barely contained hunger. He eases her panties off and settles between her thighs, taking his time as his hands map her body. When he pushes his fingers into her, they both exhale—long, shuddering breaths that sound like coming home. Then his mouth is on her, and her thighs close in around his head.

He works her slowly, worshipping her and punishing himself simultaneously, and I understand the impulse. She’s glorious like this. And all ours.

When she comes, it’s with his name breaking across her lips. He doesn’t lift his head immediately. Presses a kiss to her thigh, her hip, her navel. Painting his gratitude across her skin.

“Got one more in you, wildcat?” Holden asks, a set of handcuffs dangling from his fingers.

“Fuck, yes.”

Eli rolls to the side as Holden moves in. The metal catches the light as he closes one cuff around her wrist, passes the open cuff through the ring on the headboard—because when I built this bed, I prepared for these kinds of games—then closes it around her other wrist. She’s stretched out before him, helpless and willing and utterly in command despite the restraint.