29. Rowan
29
ROWAN
The words send a shiver through me. Ryder, a man of so few words, promising to savor me. It’s almost too much.
He walks me backward until my legs hit the couch, then gently pushes me down. I expect him to join me, but instead he kneels between my thighs, his hands working the button of my jeans with deliberate slowness.
“Lift,” he commands softly, and I raise my hips so he can slide the denim down my legs.
The cool air on my heated skin makes me shiver, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me—like I’m something precious, something worth savoring. It’s so different from Brick’s possessive hunger, from Maddox’s playful desire.
He presses a kiss to my inner thigh, then another higher up. My breath catches as he moves closer to where I need him most, still covered by the thin cotton of my panties.
“These are in the way,” he says, hooking his fingers in the waistband and drawing them down. Unlike last time, he doesn’t pocket them. He simply drops them to the floor, forgotten.
His first lick is gentle. I gasp, my head falling back against the couch cushions. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open for him as his tongue works with devastating precision. Long, slow strokes that build heat but never quite give enough pressure where I need it most.
“Ryder, please,” I whimper, my hips trying to move against his mouth.
He responds by sliding a finger inside me, curling it to hit that perfect spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. His tongue circles my clit, still not giving the direct pressure I crave.
“So wet,” he murmurs against me, the vibration of his voice sending another shock wave of pleasure.
He adds a second finger, stretching me deliciously, and finally—finally—his tongue presses directly against my clit. The combination has me arching off the couch, a cry tearing from my throat.
Just as I’m about to break, he pulls away. I make a sound of protest, but he’s already standing, already stripping off his shirt to reveal the tattooed expanse of his chest and abs. His jeans follow, and then he’s standing before me, gloriously naked and hard.
“Come here,” he says, offering his hand.
I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. He helps me out of my shirt and bra, his eyes darkening as he takes in my naked body. Then he sits on the couch, guiding me to straddle him.
“Like this,” he says, positioning my knees on either side of his hips. “I want to see you.”
I sink down onto him slowly, gasping at the stretch. He fills me completely, his thickness pressing against every sensitive spot inside me. His hands grip my hips, guiding me into a slow, rolling rhythm that has us both breathing harder.
“Perfect,” he whispers, the word almost reverent. His lips find my breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth with just enough pressure to make me moan.
I ride him with increasing urgency, my hands gripping his shoulders for leverage. Each downward motion sends sparks of pleasure racing through me, building toward something that feels bigger than before.
A particularly deep thrust hits a still-tender spot, and I wince slightly. An idea forms, fueled by the lingering memory of Brick and the darker desires he awakened in me.
I lift myself off Ryder, earning a sound of protest until he sees what I’m doing. I turn, positioning myself with my back to him, and reach between us to guide him to my other entrance.
“Wait,” he says, his voice rough with surprise and arousal. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I whisper, pressing back against him, using the wetness of my arousal to ease the way. “I want this.”
His groan is almost pained as the head of his cock breaches me, the stretch both familiar and new after Brick’s attention two nights ago.
“You’ve fucked Brick, haven’t you?” Ryder’s words are hot against my ear as he pulls me against his chest, one hand sliding around to stroke my clit as he slowly fills me from behind.
“How did you know?” I gasp, the dual sensations making it hard to think.
“I know my brother,” he murmurs, his hips starting a slow, careful rhythm. “I know how he likes it. And now suddenly you like this too?”
“Are you jealous?” I manage to ask, my body adjusting to him, pleasure beginning to overshadow the lingering discomfort.
His teeth graze my shoulder, his pace increasing slightly. “The only emotion I can feel while inside you like this is pure ecstasy,” he growls. “I’ll be jealous later.”
The combination of his fingers between my legs and his cock filling me from behind sends me spiraling toward the edge faster than I expected. I reach back, gripping his thigh for support as he drives deeper, his control fraying with each thrust.
“Come for me,” he orders, his voice strained. “Now, Rowan.”
My release hits like a tidal wave, my body clenching around him as pleasure shatters through me. He follows a moment later, and his groan is muffled against my neck as he pulses inside me.
We stay connected for long moments, our breathing gradually slowing. Finally, he eases me off him, both of us wincing slightly at the separation.
“That was unexpected,” he says, his voice rough as he helps me clean up with tissues from a box beside the couch.
“Good unexpected?” I ask, suddenly uncertain.
The rare smile that crosses his face is answer enough. “Very good.”
We dress in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other like teenagers. When we’re presentable, he brushes a strand of hair from my face with unexpected tenderness.
“Ready to head down?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. He leads the way down the stairs, his hand warm on the small of my back. We’re halfway down when the garage door opens below.
Maddox walks in, freezing when he sees us descending the stairs together. His eyes take in our disheveled state—my flushed cheeks, Ryder’s mussed hair, the unmistakable aftermath of intimacy that clings to us both. The death stare he sends his brother could freeze hell itself.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just needed to grab something.”
Shame hits me like a wrecking ball. What am I doing? Sleeping with one brother, then another, then a third, then back to the first? Letting them take turns with me like I’m some kind of…prize to be passed around?
“I should go,” I mumble, edging past Maddox toward the door. Neither brother stops me.
“I’ll drive with you,” Maddox offers, his tone making it clear he’s not doing it out of kindness.
“My bike?—”
“Will be fine here overnight,” he cuts me off. “Chain’s fixed, right?”
I nod, not meeting his eyes. “I can drive myself.”
“Fine.” He turns and walks deeper into the garage without another word.
Ryder catches my hand before I can flee, pulling me back for one last moment. His eyes lock with Maddox’s over my shoulder as he presses a lingering kiss to my cheek—a clear message I don’t fully understand.
I scramble away, cheeks burning, and hurry to my bike. The ride home is a blur, my mind replaying the look on Maddox’s face, the silent accusation. The guilt sits heavy in my chest, making it hard to breathe. What kind of woman does this? What kind of person lets herself get tangled up with three brothers, playing with their emotions, risking the bond between them?
A whore , whispers a voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like my father’s. A selfish, manipulative whore.
At home, I head straight for the shower, needing to wash away the evidence of what I’ve done.
The similarities between the brothers extend beyond their looks.
Brick is the largest, both in height and in girth, his thickness stretching me to the point of delicious pain. Maddox is nearly as long but sleeker, curved in a way that hits spots inside me I didn’t know existed. Ryder falls between them—not as thick as Brick, not as long as Maddox, but perfectly proportioned, fitting me like he was made for my body.
The thought makes me blush, even alone in the shower.
I dry off and dress in comfortable clothes, trying to push away thoughts of the brothers and the mess I’ve created. My new burner phone—purchased after I destroyed the last one—pings with a text as I’m combing out my wet hair.
Unknown number. I open it, expecting a message from one of the brothers.
Instead, the words make my blood freeze in my veins:
You can keep running, but I’ll find you, Leona.
My real name. This is a message from my father.
A cold chill runs through me, icy fingers of dread crawling up my spine. Before I can process it, another text comes through:
Did you really think you could hide from me? I made you. I trained you. I know how you think.
My hands shake so badly I nearly drop the phone.
You have two choices, Leona. Come home willingly, or I will find your sister and begin removing her fingers.
One final text appears:
You belong to the Vipers. To me. I’m coming for you, Leona.
I sink to the floor, my legs unable to support me any longer. He’s close to knowing everything. Where I live. What I want. Who I’ve been with.
This house suddenly feels like a death trap. Paper-thin walls, flimsy locks—nothing that would stop my father or his men for more than seconds. And I’m alone here, unprotected.
I scramble to my feet, grabbing a duffel bag from my closet. Survival instinct takes over as I throw in essentials—clothes, toiletries, the emergency cash I’ve kept hidden behind a loose baseboard. My hands move on autopilot while my mind races.
I need somewhere safe. Somewhere my father’s men won’t look first. The apartment is the obvious target—they’ll come here before anywhere else.
As I zip the bag closed, I make a decision. I can’t stay here tonight. Not alone. Not when he’s so close.
I need protection. I need the brothers.