Chapter 14
LANGSTON
Hands dangling at my sides, I flexed my fingers, attempting to ease the ache in the stiff joints as we walked to Juno’s cabin to pick her up for the “not a date” date. West tracked the movement with his brow furrowed.
A chuff puffed past my lips. The man was almost as observant as me.
I was only slightly more from the two tours I served in the Army, needing to tune those observation skills to stay alive.
Plus, during Mattie’s teen years, I monitored everything to ensure she was safe and taken care of at all times—which of course, like any teenage girl, she hated.
She thought I was overprotective for no reason, but she didn’t know, nor would she ever, about all the “talks” I had with boys from her school to make sure she was respected. Mattie just assumed they were good guys and I expected the worst in everyone.
“Shouldn’t it be your forearm and wrist that are sore?” West teased, but it was a cover for his concern about the old injury he of course knew about. “Unless your grip is so tight around your dick that your fingers are sore too.”
“Funny, I’ve never heard complaints about my grip from you.” I shot him a smirk only for it to slip, my thoughts circling back to the pain in my fingers. “If she finds out, or I ever tell her, do you think Juno would care about my hand, the story behind how I broke it?”
West rolled his eyes, as if I was being ridiculous. “Find out that you shattered your hand while beating a man almost to death when you were twelve and it didn’t heal correctly?”
“You know what I mean,” I grumbled. But yeah, exactly that.
“I don’t think she’s the type to shy away from overprotective-asshole gestures.
” At the next flex of my fingers, I only straightened the middle one and pointed it at him.
“But it’s something you might want to talk with her about,” he continued, ignoring me.
“If we want this to work, then we should be up-front about everything from the start. I don’t want to give her any reason to think we’re anything like her ex. ”
I’d shoot myself in the fucking balls as punishment and ensure I never reproduced if I was anything like—or was even adjacently compared to—that manipulating jackass.
“We need to make sure she doesn’t feel like she’s stepping between us. Let her know we’re not together, together. She knows we do our thing, whatever that is, but I don’t want her to think she’s a third wheel. Does that make sense?” he asked.
I paused at the steps that led to her small front porch. “Do you think she’ll be okay with us, with what we do, as long as she’s involved?” A lead weight settled in my stomach thinking about having to choose between the two of them.
West just shrugged. “No fucking clue.”
“Good to know I’m not the only one feeling clueless in all this,” I grumbled as I leapt up the stairs, boots slamming to the top, making the entire porch shake. After pounding on the door, I took a large step back to not crowd her when she opened it.
Before we left, West sat me down, looking serious as hell, and told me to calm my shit down or I’d scare her away with my overbearing antics.
Which I called utter bullshit. It wasn’t like she was one of our one-night stands.
She knew I was intense and high-strung, and I saw the way her gaze heated when I pulled the dominant card.
She might not be ready to admit it, but Juno loved my protective, slightly obsessive, asshole side.
He may have played it off that me being overbearing would make her bolt, but I knew better.
Juno wasn’t the only one afraid of someone leaving after they found out the darkest parts we all kept carefully hidden.
The worst of our pasts had yet to be exposed, which was the way we both liked it.
I never wanted Juno to know about the times I’d failed, while West kept his abusive childhood memories buried so deep that he’d only mentioned it once when he was piss-ass drunk.
You’d think someone like me would hear what happened to him and go on a murderous rampage, but—and I blamed it on the tequila—I went to my room and fucking cried.
He never mentioned it again, either not remembering he told me or preferring to act like it didn’t happen. Either way, I followed his lead, because what kind of asshole would I be if I made him talk about his trauma when he wasn’t ready?
The dark-stained wooden door swung open. I started to ask if she was ready, but all words vanished, zero thoughts flickering through my head except two little words that said it all.
Holy fuck.
I slow-blinked at Juno, who was gripping the edge of the door with an expectant expression.
Still unable to speak, I dropped my gaze, inspecting the gorgeous woman inch by inch, starting with her brown ankle boots, then up her bare legs to where the black skirt hit mid-thigh.
Fuck, her legs looked perfect to wrap around my head while I ate her cunt clean.
My brain again short-circuited when I got to her chest, the sweater material stressing her large tits and the deep V-neck showing more of the soft, fair skin I wanted to taste.
With light makeup, just enough to make her eyes pop but not look fake, and her brown hair styled in gorgeous loose curls, Juno Jones was jaw-droppingly, brain-freezingly gorgeous. She was every day, but tonight, she was stunning.
“Are you going to say something or just keep staring at me with….” Her head tilted to the side. “What is that look exactly?” Juno gestured to my face while looking at West with an arched brow.
“I think you broke him,” West said, poking a single finger at my shoulder.
“Come on, I don’t look that different.” Juno laughed, a faint blush now staining her cheeks. My breath caught at the sweet sound, so pure and carefree, everything I was not. “It’s just a little makeup and actually taking the time to blow-dry my crazy hair into submission.”
“You look great,” I mumbled, finally finding my words.
“Do you want a jacket?” Or a parka… anything to hide how fucking delectable she looked in that outfit.
All I could imagine was sitting her down on the kitchen counter with that skirt around her waist and my cock buried deep inside her soaked pussy.
“A jacket?” she asked. Stepping around me, she stuck her hand out as if testing the temperature. “Why would I need a jacket?”
West’s chuckle had me turning to him with a dull look. “I think my friend here is concerned about all the men he’ll be forced to blind for staring at you in that outfit. It’s already a problem, and looking like that, there will be no man in Anchor Bay with eyes after tonight.”
Juno scoffed and rolled her eyes as if she didn’t believe him. Did she really not notice the way men watched her wherever she went, no matter what she was wearing?
“But now that you’re ours—”
“Friend,” Juno cut in with a pointed look at West. “Your friend.”
“Special friend?” West countered.
“Friend who is special?” she responded with a smile.
“Special-to-us friend, who is also ours?” West leaned in close, putting his nose near her neck, and inhaled deeply. “Damn, you smell good.”
“It’s just soap,” she replied, her voice shaky.
“Nah, I know that smell. Its taste is ingrained on my tongue from last night. And I would bet that if I snuck my hand beneath that skirt and stroked your pussy, my fingers would be drenched.” Juno’s lips parted, her gaze fixed on where West stroked a single finger along her hip.
I desperately needed to adjust my cock but stayed frozen to not disturb whatever the fuck was happening.
“And I would lick up every drop you’d give me, sweet cheeks. ”
“West,” I practically growled. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Getting us all ready for tonight,” he responded innocently.
“For me to get dick chafe and Juno to walk around with wet panties all night?” A thought hit me like a lightning bolt to the chest. With a single step, I pinned her against the doorframe. Chest heaving, I stared down into her aqua eyes. “You are wearing underwear, right?”
If she said no, then there would be no holding back from pushing her into the cabin and begging her to let me fuck her until the sun came up.
“Yes,” she rasped. “Yes, I am.”
“Good girl.”
Juno straightened. Palm to my chest, she pushed me back and fanned herself with the other. “Damnit, Langston, you can’t go saying shit like that. Give a girl some fucking warning first.”
West and I eyed each other in confusion. “Okay?” I said warily.
Huffing, she tossed both hands in the air. “Well now, thanks to my so-called friends, I need to go inside and change underwear.” When she stepped back into the cabin, I followed, but she stopped me cold with a single hard look. “Alone.”
“But I can help,” I offered. Help her get out of them—that was for damn sure.
“You and your friend’s help are why I need to change. Give me a minute.” Her gaze darted over her shoulder. “Or a couple.”
Before she could close the door, I slapped a palm to the center of the thick wood. “If you do anything other than change your soaked panties, like play with that delicious cunt to take the edge off, I will know, and you won’t like the consequences.”
“I wasn’t,” she whispered, but I heard the lie. It was in that single glance she gave to her bedroom that was filled with indecision and longing. I arched a brow silently, calling her out on it. “Fine, maybe, but it’s your fault.” She waggled a finger between me and West.
“Then let us take the edge off for you,” he suggested, coming to stand beside me.
“No, that would make this”—she gestured between the three of us—“even more complicated and confusing.”