Chapter 9
Milo
After a rough couple of days at work, a ride through the canyons should have been exactly what I needed, but by the end of it, I was still antsy.
Our friends scattered as we got to the edge of town, the other riders peeling off one by one, headed home, or to work, or to wherever else they had to be.
I stuck with Xavier. He didn’t signal or check if I was following—he never did—just banked left onto Cypress Avenue instead of taking the road that led home.
My stomach tightened with anticipation. I knew these turns by now, knew exactly where he was leading us.
She’d set the schedule, telling us our days were Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.
And it was a Tuesday, which meant she would let us in, let pretend for a few hours that she was ours, that we could win someone as beautiful and brilliant as June.
Xavier never talked about what happened when we showed up at her place, but he seemed drawn to her, like he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t fight the pull.
And me? I didn’t want to fight it at all.
She was funny, gorgeous, and adventurous in bed.
And being with her gave me a chance to touch him, even if only in the smallest, most accidental ways.
His bare thighs slid against mine as he filled her ass while I fucked her pussy.
His hands covered mine as we both gripped her thighs while he ate her out like a man starved, watching her arch and writhe.
She took well to my kinks, pouting only a little as I tuned her body the way I’d tune one of my bikes, taking her to a reckless, beautiful high before plunging inside her and losing myself in the way her inner muscles quivered around me.
I stuck close to his back wheel, watching the confident way he leaned into each turn, all fluid grace and instinct. We wound through residential streets that had become familiar.
He never asked if I wanted to go. Never texted her to see if she was home or busy or in the mood.
Never bothered with any of the normal human steps that preceded showing up at someone’s doorstep expecting to fuck them senseless.
If it was one of our days, X followed some internal compass that pointed straight to her, and I followed him because there was nowhere else I wanted to be than with them.
I was addicted to June’s soft gasps when we first pushed into her.
Addicted to X’s face when he was buried deep, that rare moment when his guard dropped completely.
Addicted to the way we moved together, all three of us, like we’d been doing this for years instead of weeks.
It was beyond good sex. It was turning into something else, something I couldn’t stop chasing.
We rounded the final corner, and there it was—June’s craftsman house with its sage green exterior and wide porch.
And there she was, curled up on her porch swing, book in hand, completely absorbed.
She hadn’t heard our bikes yet, giving me a moment to just look at her.
She wore a thin tank top and some kind of flowy skirt, her bare feet tucked underneath her, hair twisted up in that messy way she did when the strands tickled her neck.
Her glasses had slipped down her nose, and she was wearing the a necklace with spinning parts that she flicked with her fingers as she read.
She was beautiful in that effortless way that made my chest ache.
Not model-beautiful or Instagram-beautiful, but real beautiful—the kind where I wanted to watch her read for hours, wanted to hear her ramble about engine efficiency and the molecular structure of battery components, wanted to feel her bare skin against mine in the early morning light.
Xavier cut his engine at the curb, the sudden silence startling June from her book.
She looked up, and the way her face transformed—from startled to delighted to hungry in the span of seconds—sent a jolt of heat straight to my groin.
I killed my own engine and pulled off my helmet as X swung his leg over his bike with that effortless grace that always made me feel slightly clumsy in comparison.
“What chapter are you on?” Xavier called up to her, his voice carrying that edge it got when he was already thinking about getting her naked. “The one where she’s riding two guys at once, or the one where they’re tag-teaming her against a wall?”
June’s laugh was bright and uninhibited. “Chapter fifteen,” she called back, holding up the book so we could see the cover—two shirtless men bracketing a woman whose dress was halfway off her shoulder. “They just figured out they both want each other as much as they want her.”
I dismounted from my bike, climbing the porch steps two at a time. “So you’re getting yourself all wet and ready for us with your little stories?”
Anyone else might have blushed, stammered, played coy. Not June. She slipped a bookmark in, set the book aside, and looked me straight in the eye with that disarming directness of hers.
“That’s exactly what I was doing,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact but her eyes sparkling with mischief. “The book is extremely effective at that. Though not as effective as thinking about what happened in my shower on Saturday.”
That was June—no games, no hidden meanings, just straight to the fucking point. The first time she’d done it, I’d been caught off guard. The fifth time, charmed. By now, it was one of my favorite things about her.
“You’ve been thinking about us all day?” I asked, settling beside her on the swing while X leaned against the porch railing, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Not all day,” she clarified, missing the point.
“I had a meeting about the new motor housing design that required my full attention. But since I got home...” She adjusted her glasses, and I caught the slight flush spreading across her cheeks.
“Yes. Thinking about you. About both of you. I think I’d like you to kiss me now. And touch me.”
X’s smile was slow and dangerous, all predator. “Show us,” he said, nodding toward the door.
June stood, tucking her book under her arm, then turned and walked inside.
I followed, already half-hard, caught in the gravitational pull of them both. This wasn’t just about sex anymore. I was orbiting them, getting closer with each revolution, burning up in their atmosphere. And God help me, I didn’t want it to stop.
The door barely closed behind us before we were on June, our hands greedy, tugging at clothes, hungry for skin.
I backed her against the wall, my mouth finding hers while Xavier worked at her cardigan buttons, his knuckles brushing against my chest as we tangled together in the dimly lit entryway.
She made a soft, desperate sound against my lips, her fingers clutching at my jacket, and I felt myself hardening just from that noise, from the way she surrendered herself so completely to the moment, to us.
“Upstairs,” she gasped between kisses, her glasses askew, her eyes wide and dark with want. “Bedroom.”
We stumbled up the staircase, a tangle of limbs and half-shed clothing.
I watched Xavier ahead of me, his hand in June’s, the muscles in his back shifting beneath his t-shirt as he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside.
I’d seen him shirtless a thousand times before, but tonight, with June’s words about her dirty books still echoing in my ears, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the lean lines of his body, the ridges of his spine, the scars that mapped stories I only knew pieces of.
June’s bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting long shadows across rumpled sheets and stacks of books.
She turned to face us, her cardigan and tank already gone, standing in just her bra and skirt, her skin flushed pink with desire.
I moved behind her while Xavier stepped forward, crowding her until the backs of her knees hit the mattress.
“Off,” Xavier growled, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her skirt and dragging it down her thighs. She lifted her hips, helping, and then she was sprawled before us in nothing but simple cotton panties and a bra that somehow looked sexier than any fancy lingerie I’d ever seen.
I unhooked her bra while Xavier tugged her panties down, both of us working like we’d been doing this for years instead of days.
Her breasts spilled into my hands, soft and perfect, and I couldn’t resist bending to kiss the nape of her neck, inhaling the clean scent of her shampoo mixed with the heady aroma of arousal.
Xavier’s hand slipped between her legs, and he groaned, loud and appreciative. “Fuck, June. You weren’t kidding about being wet.” His fingers glistened in the lamplight as he pulled them back to show me. “She’s fucking drenched.”
I cupped her breasts from behind, rolling her nipples between my fingers as I whispered in her ear, watching Xavier’s face over her shoulder. “What were you reading that got you so worked up, baby? Must have been something filthy to get you this wet.”
She squirmed between us, her ass pressing back against my cock, which was still trapped in my jeans. “It was...” she hesitated, then in typical June fashion, just blurted it out. “The two guys were fucking.”
My hands stilled on her breasts. Xavier’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, something dangerous and electric passing between us.
“Two guys, huh?” Xavier’s voice dropped lower, rougher. “Anyone specific you were picturing?”
June laughed, the sound breathless and a little nervous. “I was... I was picturing you two, obviously. Always you two.”
My cock throbbed painfully. I tried to focus on June, on the soft skin beneath my hands, on peppering kisses down her throat, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking at Xavier again.
His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and there was something in his expression I’d never seen before—or maybe had never let myself see.