Chapter 21 #3
I’m still trying to remember what movie we’re even watching when Riot picks up exactly where Jasper left off.
His touch slides in seamlessly, bolder, slower, crueler.
He draws circles over my panties, feather-light but relentless, winding me tighter with each pass until my breath comes out in shallow, shaky gasps.
He doesn’t care that we’re surrounded. He moves like we’re alone, like no one else exists—like I’m not one second away from falling apart in front of everyone.
My hands clutch their arms, one on each, fingers digging in hard enough to hurt. My mouth parted in a silent gasp, eyes locked on the screen, though I couldn’t name a single thing happening in the movie if my life depended on it.
Riot’s lips graze the shell of my ear, his words a low rumble that slides straight through me. “Feel good, baby?” he murmurs, filthy and tender all at once. “You’re soaking through your shorts. Wonder what they’d all think if I slipped my hand inside—showed ’em just how wrecked you already are.”
A shiver tears down my spine, my whole body trembling under the weight of it.
Then Jasper’s there—his mouth brushing my temple, his voice a growl spun in silk.
“Let them look,” he mutters, possessive and certain. “They don’t get to touch. They don’t get to hear those sounds. That’s for us. Only us.”
A strangled sound slips out of me—something caught between a whimper and a curse—as I bite down hard on my lip to keep the rest inside.
They’re not even touching me anymore. Both hands have fallen back, resting on my thighs like nothing happened.
Polite. Casual. But it’s too late. My body is buzzing, nerves sparking, every muscle drawn tight and desperate.
Riot smirks, and I can feel it more than I see it.
Jasper doesn’t even look at me. He doesn’t need to. His thumb draws lazy circles just above my knee, a quiet promise that this isn’t finished.
I sit there between them, flushed, shaking, soaked through—barely holding myself together while the world around me carries on. Soda cans crack open. Jace’s voice ricochets off the walls. Laughter. Chatter. Life.
But I’m gone.
Riot’s fingers ghost along my inner thigh again, so light it almost aches. Not teasing. Just reminding me he could.
I try to clamp my legs together, desperate for something, anything—but Jasper notices. He shifts, his forearm pressing down across my thighs, pinning them open. Subtle. Deadly. A claim and a warning.
“You trying to hide how worked up you are?” he murmurs at my temple, his lips brushing my skin. “That’s cute.”
On my other side, Riot hums—soft, pleased—like this is a game, like they’re passing me back and forth just to see how long before I shatter. His thumb slips higher, nudging beneath the hem of my shorts, and my breath stutters, a sharp hitch I can’t control.
But he doesn’t move further.
Just rests there.
The threat of it is enough to undo me.
A broken sound catches in my throat—half gasp, half moan—as I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek. The credits roll, voices and laughter rising around me. Ash yells something stupid. Macee is cackling at the screen. Life moving on like nothing happened.
But I can’t focus. I’m trembling, caught between the two of them—monsters wearing grins sharp enough to cut.
And the worst part? They’ve already won.
Because I’m still aching.
Still undone.
From touches, they never even finished.
Before this, I’d been curled up with one of my smut books—the one with the masked man and the knife kink. And I know Jasper saw it when I carried it with me to the couch. He didn’t say a word. Just smirked.
Now I get it.
Now I understand the game.
“Didn’t know you wanted to be hunted,” Jasper had murmured during the opening credits, his fingers brushing mine as I held the book. Lies, he knows.
Riot’s eyes had flicked over, full of smug heat. “She likes the dangerous ones. The ones who ruin her before they fuck her.”
Jasper leaned close, his mouth ghosting my ear. “Good. Because we’re not done ruining her yet.”
I didn’t know what they meant.
I do now.
And God help me, I know I’m ruined for anyone else.
Because even the fantasy doesn’t come close to this.
***
I duck into my room just as Macee sprawls across the bed like she owns it.
“You look like someone who’s been undressed by two gods in leather jackets,” she says, one leg bouncing lazily. “Oh, wait. You were.”
I launch a pillow at her head. “Please. Like you’re not basking in your own little attention triangle with Ash and Jace.”
She snatches the pillow midair, smirking. “Triangle? Babe, try a rectangle. Silas made eye contact with me today, and I swear it changed my blood type.”
I snort, collapsing beside her. “He looked at you like you were another problem he didn’t want to solve.”
“That’s my type. Slightly annoyed, mildly terrified.”
I laugh so hard I wheeze, clutching my stomach.
Her grin softens as she rolls her head to look at me. “But seriously… are you okay? With this whole Jasper-and-Riot thing? You’re not… overwhelmed?”
I bite my lip. “I thought I would be. But when I’m with them, I don’t feel torn. I feel… chosen. Seen. It’s terrifying. But it’s real.”
Macee hums, watching me closely. “And they’re not just playing some screwed-up competition?”
I shake my head. “It started that way. But it’s shifting. They’re still them, but… they’re focused on me, not each other. I don’t know. For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m just surviving. I’m living.”
Her knee nudges mine, gently. “Well, I love that for you, my emotionally haunted disaster of a best friend.”
I grin. “Thanks, emotionally stable chaos demon.”
“Damn right.” She stretches with a groan. “Now if Ash and Jace would grow a pair and fight over me the way yours do over you, I might actually get some action around here.”
I gasp dramatically. “You? Not getting action? The apocalypse is officially coming.”
We dissolve into laughter; the sound bubbling until we’re breathless and grinning like idiots.
***
I’m alone in bed.
The ceiling fan hums overhead, moonlight spilling through the gauzy curtains. The sheets are soft against my skin, the air faintly scented with leather and cedarwood. It should be peaceful. I should feel calm.
But I don’t.
Because they’re here.
Somewhere in this house, Jasper’s probably pacing a room, scribbling lyrics like he’s exorcising demons. Riot’s probably half-naked in a t-shirt and boxers, raiding the kitchen for snacks he swore he wasn’t stealing.
And all I can think about is them.
The way Riot looked at me by the pool—heat and hunger tangled together, like he wanted to ruin me and worship me in the same breath. The way Jasper’s voice curled in my ear, like he wanted to shatter every rule I had and build new ones I’d never survive.
The way both of them shared me in the garage and touched me during that damn movie.
I shift under the covers, thighs brushing together. I’m still sore. Still marked. Still aching.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Riot: “Thinking about the sounds you made on my cock last night. You should think about riding my face next.”
I inhale sharply, heart stumbling into a sprint.
Another buzz.
Jasper: “Did he leave bruises or should I leave more? I don’t mind sharing, baby, but I never play soft.”
My breath catches, my whole body tightening.
Another text—Riot again: “Bet your fingers are already between those thighs, aren’t they? Want help?”
Seconds later, Jasper: “Don’t make me come find you. Or do. Actually—do.”
My hand drifts lower, mind buzzing, body buzzing worse.
Riot: “I’ll let him watch. Or I’ll watch him wreck you. Your choice.”
Jasper: “Open your door, Trouble. Now.”
Then—both at once:
Jasper: “Come to my room.”
Riot: “His room. Now.”
I stare at the screen, pulse hammering, legs trembling already.
Then I shove the blanket aside, bare feet hitting the floor, moving before I’ve even decided.
I don’t bother with panties.
RIOT
He won’t admit it, but he’s just as wrecked as I am.
Jasper’s standing there shirtless, tattoos biting up his arms, every muscle in his body flexed with tension.
His jaw’s locked so tight I bet he tastes blood.
But I know—fuck, I know—he feels her crawling under his skin the same way I do. He just likes to pretend he’s above it.
Me? I’m sprawled on the edge of his bed, bare feet on the floor, leaning back on my hands with a cocky smirk tugging at my mouth. My cock is already leaking, tenting my sweats. I don’t care. Let her see. I want her to see exactly what she does to us.
She’s upstairs right now—I know it—reading every filthy word we sent. Getting wetter, getting braver. Probably has both hands on that sweet little pussy, biting her palm to keep quiet. The thought makes me twitch.
“You think she’ll come?”
His eyes cut to mine immediately. “You think she won’t?”
I chuckle low, dirty. “Nah. She’s halfway there already, thinking about both of us. Can’t even decide who she wants more—you or me.”
His flinch is small, but I see it. He masks it by grabbing his phone, thumb flying across the screen. No words. Doesn’t need any. We both know we’re throwing gasoline on the same fire, daring her to burn.
“She’s not walking in here steady,” I murmur, palming my cock, squeezing hard. My voice drips filth. “She’s gonna lose it when she sees us—me laid out waiting, you standing there like you’re ready to break her in half.”
Jasper rolls his eyes, but his throat works in a hard swallow. “She already lost it. This is just us collecting the pieces.”
The room goes still. Heavy. Like thunder waiting to crack the sky.
My cock throbs, aching, every second stretching longer. Then—footsteps. Soft. Climbing the stairs.
I sit up straighter, pulse kicking. Jasper coils tighter, every line of him wound, ready to strike.
The doorknob turns. His hands flex at his sides.
And just like that—
Game on.