Sixteen
There’s a silence, but it’s not empty.
Jason grins, wolfish, and says, “Good.”
Leo’s hands are gentle, reverent, as he pulls her in for another kiss.
This time, Brielle closes her eyes, and lets the world fall away.
?
Leo steps inside, and the three of them stand for a moment in the foyer, the rest of the world on mute.
No one rushes. Brielle closes the door with a click that sounds like punctuation—a sentence she’s been writing in her head for years.
Her hands are calm at her sides, but her heart is a siren in her chest.
The house smells like lemon, candle wax, and the ghost of laundry from the afternoon.
She feels the air shift as Jason moves up behind her, hand at her lower back, not directing but reassuring.
Leo hovers a foot away, uncertain in the way of someone who knows he’s about to be changed by something and isn’t sure if he deserves it.
Brielle lets herself be still. She breathes, feeling the silk robe slide over her skin, the cool of the hardwood against her feet, the almost-imperceptible pressure of Jason’s thumb.
She’s aware of her body in ways she never was before—the slow bloom of heat in her belly, the way her pulse pounds at the base of her throat, the fact that she’s never been so wet just from anticipation.
Jason speaks first, his mouth at her ear: “You lead.”
The words should terrify her, but they don’t. She’s never been so sure.
She steps forward, closes the gap with Leo.
He’s taller than she remembers, and for a second she’s seventeen again, sneaking glances at him through the rearview mirror while his brother tried to finger her at a drive-in.
But the years have changed him. The way he looks at her is different now—hungrier, but also respectful, like she’s not just a want but a need.
She lifts her hand, runs her fingers along his jaw, thumbs the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. She kisses him, soft, testing. He lets her, but he doesn’t take over. Not this time. He waits, trembling just a little, for her to decide what comes next.
Jason stays behind her, hand warm and solid, his body radiating heat up her back. She can sense his arousal, the way his breathing shifts, but he holds his ground, letting her be the axis.
Brielle deepens the kiss, lips parting, tongue flicking against Leo’s. His hands come up to her waist, but stop at the belt of her robe. He waits. She breaks the kiss and looks at him, really looks, until he ducks his head, smiling.
“You’re allowed,” she says.
He grins, then slides his hands up her ribcage, fingers splaying just under the edge of the silk. The contact is electric, and she shivers, thighs clenching.
Jason’s hand drifts to her hip, fingers spreading, and he whispers, “Take your time.”
She nods, then pulls Leo in for another kiss, this time harder.
His tongue is urgent, tasting her, teeth grazing her lower lip until she moans into his mouth.
Her hands fist in his shirt, dragging him closer.
His cock is already hard, pressing into her stomach, and she gasps at the size of it, the hunger in him. She wants to take everything.
She breaks the kiss again, this time to look back at Jason. He’s watching her, eyes black with want, but there’s no jealousy. Just reverence, and a hunger so sharp she can feel it in her own teeth.
She pulls Jason forward, grabs his shirt, and yanks him down for a kiss. It’s messy, open-mouthed, their tongues tangling, her teeth catching on his. Leo’s hands never leave her waist, but he moves in, sandwiching her between their bodies.
She’s so wet she can feel it dripping down her thigh, and she wants to laugh at how easy it is, how fucking natural. She isn’t either of those things.
She breaks away, breathless, and says, “Bedroom.”
Jason nods, then bends to scoop her up, bridal-style. She shrieks, the sound breaking the tension, and Leo follows as Jason carries her down the hallway.
He sets her on the bed, then steps back. Leo stands at the foot, breathing hard, waiting for her to speak.
Brielle unties the robe, lets it fall open. She’s naked underneath, skin flushed, nipples so hard they ache. Both men look at her like she’s a sunrise. She lets the robe drop off her shoulders, then sits up, legs spread.
She points at Leo. “You. Clothes off.”
He laughs, nervous, but obeys. Shirt first, then jeans, then briefs. His cock springs free—thick, heavy, curving up toward his navel. She licks her lips, then glances at Jason.
He’s already naked, cock out, fist slowly stroking as he watches her.
She lies back on the bed, legs open, one hand between her thighs. She touches herself, lazy, middle finger circling her clit, eyes on both of them.
“Come here,” she says to Leo.
He climbs onto the bed, kneels between her legs, and kisses up her calf, her knee, her thigh. He takes his time. He takes his time, kissing every inch, his tongue flicking behind her knee, his teeth scraping the meat of her inner thigh. She moans, hips rolling up, wanting more.
He looks up at her, and she nods. “Eat me.”
Leo’s mouth is heaven. He starts with gentle licks, soft and slow, then flattens his tongue and drags it from her opening to her clit, over and over.
She arches, crying out, and he moans into her, the vibration making her see stars.
His hands slide under her ass, lifting her up, and he buries his face, tongue fucking her, nose bumping her clit until she’s shaking.
Jason kneels beside her, kisses her mouth, tastes her moans. His hand cups her breast, thumb flicking her nipple. “You look incredible,” he says.
She can’t answer, too busy grinding into Leo’s face, but she grabs Jason’s wrist and brings his hand down, shoving two fingers into her mouth. She sucks, hard, then lets him go.
Jason leans in, voice low: “Let go for him.”
She does. She comes in a rush, hips bucking, thighs clamped around Leo’s head. She breaks, the sound ripped out of her, and Leo doesn’t stop, licking her through it, tongue relentless. She comes again, smaller, then sags back, boneless.
Leo wipes his mouth, smiling, and she drags him up for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue.
She glances at Jason. “Your turn.”
She’s still shaking when Leo pulls back, his mouth soft now, reverent instead of hungry.
Jason is right there, hands on her, grounding her, steady.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
She exhales, long and slow, her body still catching up to itself.
Leo stays close, but doesn’t move in again.
That’s what gets her.
Not the hunger—
the restraint.
She reaches for him anyway, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him back just enough to feel him.
Not taking.
Choosing.
Jason watches her, something dark and steady in his expression.
“We don’t have to do everything tonight,” he says.
Her pulse spikes.
Not disappointment.
Anticipation.
She looks between them, breath uneven, body still humming.
“No,” she says softly.
“We don’t.”
Leo’s forehead rests briefly against hers.
Jason’s hand stays at her back.
And the moment holds—
stretched tight, unfinished, alive.
For the first time, she understands:
it’s not about how far they go.
It’s about knowing they can.