16. Jade #2
I could send them away. Tomorrow’s plan requires focus, and this complicates everything.
But fear has lived in my bones for four years with Tyler.
Sex was something I endured, something he took when he wanted, leaving me empty and small.
With these men, it feels different. Like a choice.
Like power. I want their hands on me, their bodies reminding me I’m alive and desired on my terms.
“Where’s Hawk?” I ask.
“Perimeter,” Shadow answers. “Someone has to watch our backs.”
“So one outside, two in here.”
Shadow grins, slow and knowing. “You’ve got it.”
They step inside. The door clicks shut, sealing the room in quiet heat.
Shadow sets the beers on the nightstand. Razor leans against the wall for a moment, arms crossed, studying me. Then he crosses to the bed, sits on one side while Shadow takes the other. Their nearness presses in, thick and electric.
“You nervous about tomorrow?” Shadow asks.
“Terrified,” I admit.
“Good. Fear keeps you sharp.” He takes a sip of beer, eyes holding mine. “But tonight, you don’t have to carry it.”
“What do I have to be tonight?”
“Whatever you want.” His voice lowers. “No pressure. Just us. We stop the second you say.”
I set my beer down untouched and look between them. Shadow teasing and open, Razor coiled intensity. My skin prickles under their stares.
“I saw you today,” I tell Razor. “In the bathroom. You saw me.”
“Yeah.” No apology. Just truth.
“Did you like what you saw?”
His eyes darken. “Yes.”
The word settles heavy and hot in my belly.
Shadow’s eyebrow lifts. “What happened in the bathroom?”
“Coming out of the shower,” I say, holding Razor’s gaze. “Door open. He looked.”
“And you let me,” Razor adds.
“I let him.”
Shadow laughs low. “Interesting.”
Razor reaches out, cups my face, thumb tracing my lip. “We stop whenever you say stop. Understand?”
The command in his voice makes me clench. “I understand.”
His mouth claims mine, firm, precise, tongue sliding deep until my thoughts blur.
Shadow’s hands slip under my T-shirt, stroking bare skin, teasing up my ribs.
I break away to turn to Shadow. He kisses me playfully at first, nipping, then deeper, hungrier.
Razor’s mouth moves to my throat, sucking hard enough to bruise sweetly.
“Can we take this off?” Shadow tugs my shirt.
I nod, lifting my arms. They peel it away together. Cool air hits my breasts, nipples tightening. Shadow cups one, thumb circling the peak until I arch. Razor palms the other, pinching lightly. Sharp pleasure that makes me gasp.
“Fuck,” Shadow breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”
Razor doesn’t speak. He just watches me react, then slaps the nipple lightly. Stinging bloom that sends heat rushing between my legs.
“On your knees,” Razor orders, voice gravel-low.
The words hit like fire. I slide off the bed, kneel on the floor between them. My heart races, but it’s excitement, anticipation. This is my choice.
They stand, and strip shirts and jeans in quick, sure movements. Their cocks spring free, hard and thick, and my breath catches.
Razor’s is first to draw my eyes. Long and thick, veined heavily along the shaft like ropes under the skin, the head flushed dark and broad. A faint scar runs along one side, a thin white line against the tanned length, proof of old fights or old life.
It curves slightly upward, throbbing visibly. The base is surrounded by dark hair, trimmed but not shaved, and the whole thing looks powerful, unyielding, like it could split me open if I let it. My mouth waters at the sight, a mix of nerves and hunger twisting low.
Shadow’s is different. Leaner but no less impressive, curved gently to the left, the shaft smooth with fewer veins but pulsing with every heartbeat.
The head is mushroomed, flushed a deep pink, and slick already at the tip.
His skin is lighter there, almost golden, and the length twitches when my gaze lingers, like it knows I’m looking.
He’s thick enough at the base that my fingers wouldn’t quite meet if I wrapped them around him, and the thought makes my core ache.
I stare, taking them in, comparing. Razor’s feels brutal, commanding. Shadow’s teasing, promising. Both huge, both hard for me. After Tyler’s quick, selfish thrusts that left me sore and distant, this view is overwhelming. They’re offering themselves, waiting for my lead in this moment.
I swallow. “Can I… touch them?”
Shadow’s grin widens. “Fuck yes.”
Razor nods once. “Go ahead, baby.”
I reach out, hands trembling slightly. First Shadow. My fingers wrap around his curved length, skin hot and velvet-smooth over steel. He throbs in my palm, heavy and alive. I stroke upward, thumb brushing the slick head, spreading the precum in slow circles. He groans low, hips flexing.
Then Razor. My hand closes around him. Thicker, the veins ridged under my fingers like they’re meant to drag inside me.
I squeeze gently, feeling him pulse harder.
The scar is faint under my touch, a reminder of the man who carries it.
I stroke from base to tip, marveling at how my fingers don’t quite meet, how he fills my hand completely.
I alternate, stroking both at once. Hands moving in rhythm, slick sounds filling the quiet room. Their breaths turn ragged. Shadow’s cock leaks more, dripping over my knuckles; Razor’s twitches violently when I twist my wrist at the head.
“Good girl,” Shadow rasps. “Feel how hard you make us.”
Razor growls. “Stroke us like you mean it.”
I do it faster and firmer. Kneeling between them, lost in the heat, the power of having them in my hands. This isn’t endurance. This is want. Desire. Mine.
Shadow threads fingers in my hair. “Open for us, baby.”