30. Scarlet Sage
Scarlet Sage
The question changes Wes. His focus narrows until the attic, the open boxes, and every unanswered warning around us disappear from his expression.
“What if I want you to stop holding back?” I ask again.
His hands tighten on my thighs. “Careful what you ask for,” he says, his voice roughening. “Because if I stop holding back, I’m not going to be gentle about how much I want you.”
“I don’t want gentle.”
Roman draws a measured breath behind the stool. His palms slide from my shoulders along my arms as he leans over me, his chest warm against my back.
Wes keeps his eyes on mine. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want this room to belong to me when we’re done,” I say. “I want to stop being careful in it. I want to stop thinking, even for an hour.”
Roman’s mouth brushes my temple. “That part we can arrange.”
Wes rises between my knees. “Then we’ll ruin you properly.”
His mouth covers mine before I can answer.
There is nothing careful about the kiss.
He takes my lower lip between his teeth, then soothes the sting with his tongue while his hands travel beneath my dress.
Roman holds me upright against him, one arm around my waist and the other hand spreading over my stomach, as though he can feel every place Wes’s kiss reaches.
The attic grows smaller around us.
Wes breaks the kiss just long enough to drag his mouth along my jaw, his voice rough and low. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to take you apart like this.”
He lifts me from the stool. I hook my arms around his shoulders as Roman pulls my grandmother’s folded quilt from the cedar chest near the wall. He spreads it beneath the open window, giving the stars a clear view of every filthy thing about to happen.
Wes lowers me onto it.
The quilt smells faintly of sun-dried cotton and the sachets my grandmother used to hide between blankets. Blue stars and faded yellow flowers cover the fabric beneath my palms.
Roman kneels behind me and draws me between his legs. His thighs bracket mine. His chest becomes a warm wall at my back. When he slides one hand over my eyes, darkness settles softly.
My breath catches.
His mouth touches the shell of my ear. “Let us make you feel good.”
Wes runs his hands from my ankles to my knees, taking his time now that I can’t see him.
The loss of sight makes every touch arrive larger.
His thumbs circle the sensitive hollows behind my knees.
Roman’s lips move down my neck. Wes pushes my dress higher while Roman opens the first few buttons one-handed and slips his hand beneath the fabric.
When Wes draws away, Roman tightens his hold.
When Roman pauses, Wes replaces the missing touch.
One keeps me suspended while the other finds another way to undo me.
“Spread for me,” Wes says.
I obey.
“That’s it. Open for us.” Roman makes a pleased sound beside my ear. “Let him see you,” Roman murmurs, voice low and rough. “Let him see how ready you are.”
His hand leaves my eyes for a moment, and starlight spills back into the room. Wes is kneeling between my legs, his expression intent enough to send another wave of heat through me.
Roman catches my chin and turns my face toward his. “See what you asked for?”
Wes’s gaze doesn’t leave mine.
“Yes.”
Roman covers my eyes again.
Wes’s mouth finds the inside of my thigh while he spreads me open with his thumbs.
My body jerks.
Roman’s arm locks more firmly around my middle, holding me through the reaction. “Easy,” he says. “Let it come.”
“That sounded suspiciously poetic.”
His lips brush my cheek, his voice low and warm. “I just like hearing you fall apart for us.”
My breath stutters, and a sharp inhale catches in my throat as Wes moves higher. His grip tightens, and the next touch arrives with enough hunger that I arch against Roman.
“That’s it,” Wes says. “Give me every bit of it.” His voice travels over my skin almost as strongly as his mouth.
Roman’s palm cups my breast through the loosened dress. His thumb moves in slow circles while Wes’s tongue works between my legs, alternating patience with brief bursts of intensity that leave me chasing him. Each time I begin to climb, he eases away.
“Wes.”
“What?”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?” His voice against my clit is nearly a laugh.
“The thing where you don’t let me come.”
“I never said I wouldn’t. I just choose when.” He licks one long, deliberate line through my slick. “Beg properly, and I might be generous. I want to hear you say it.”
Roman kisses beneath my ear. “He does love documentation.”
“I want to come.”
Wes hums his approval. “Better.”
Then he gives me exactly enough to send me higher before backing away again. Frustration twists through the pleasure.
“You said you’d stop holding back.”
“I stopped holding back.” His hands close around my thighs. “That doesn’t mean I stopped choosing the pace.”
Roman’s laugh vibrates through my back.
“You’re both impossible.”
“And you are soaked through your dress,” Roman says near my ear. “Should we discuss who has the stronger argument?”
Heat rushes into my face.
Wes’s voice turns darker. “Don’t hide from it. I love how turned on you get for us.”
Roman removes his hand from my eyes.
Wes looks up at me from between my legs. The sight tears through the last of my composure. “God, look at you—so perfect like this, taking everything I give you.”
Roman tips my chin back against his shoulder. “Tell him.”
I stare down at Wes. “You look pleased with yourself.”
“I am.”
“So arrogant.”
“Also true.”
Roman’s fingers tighten lightly in my hair. “Try again.”
I swallow before giving him the truth. “I like watching you there.”
Wes’s expression sharpens. “How much?”
“Enough that if you stop again, I may commit a crime.”
“That’s foreplay,” Roman says, his voice dropping low and rough. “I’ll document every filthy little sound you make.”
Wes bends his head, and the next wave hits before I can answer. My hips lift from the quilt. Roman holds me in place, one hand across my stomach while the other keeps my face turned toward Wes.
“Watch him,” Roman says.
Wes’s mouth finally settles, and the first long, steady drag of his tongue pulls a sound from me that doesn’t sound like my voice.
Wes pushes his tongue inside me, and something in my chest comes apart at the seams. I couldn’t look away if I tried.
He pushes me steadily toward the edge, his eyes fixed on mine as the attic blurs around him.
My first orgasm rolls through me with a force that steals my breath.
I come on his tongue with a rush of slick.
Roman’s arms close around me while Wes keeps going. I shake my head, a plea and protest tangled together.
“You asked him not to hold back,” Roman says.
“That was before I remembered how he likes to tease.”
Wes laughs against my thigh. The vibration makes me gasp.
Roman kisses my cheek. “Take it for us.”
I find Wes’s hair with one trembling hand and pull him closer. “It’s too soon, too much. Don’t stop.”
Wes’s answering growl hums through me.
Roman’s palm slides down my stomach while Wes continues. They find a rhythm together without discussing it: Roman building pressure on my clit whenever Wes eases and Wes returning harder when Roman lets me breathe.
The two of them overwhelm me. There is no empty space, no way for thoughts or the outside world to creep in.
Their voices surround me: Wes telling me to take what I asked for, Roman praising every sound I fail to contain, Wes demanding my eyes, Roman telling me how beautiful I look when I stop guarding every reaction.
The stars above the window seem to vibrate with my pulse. When the next orgasm takes me, it is sharper than the first. I fold forward, but Roman catches me against his chest. Wes’s hands hold my thighs open as pleasure tears through me, too much and exactly enough.
My name moves between them. Scarlet from Roman, warm and reverent. Omega from Wes, rough with possession. The combination breaks me open.
They don’t stop teasing me, building me up and then bringing me back down before I go over the edge. Each time it pushes me higher and higher. I stop counting orgasms and float in a never-ending current of pleasure. I lose track of which mouth draws each sound from me.
Roman’s voice turns soft and filthy against my lips, telling me what he wants to watch Wes do, then telling Wes how my body reacts to hearing it.
Wes answers with praise that feels like an order.
My body follows every word. Each crest arrives slower than the last, drawn out between Wes and Roman until I’m pleading without caring who hears.
I come again and again, held from both sides.
When Wes finally lifts his head, I’m limp against Roman. He brushes hair from my face. “How are you?”
“Ask me when my legs stop speaking in tongues.”
Wes wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking entirely too satisfied. “We’re not finished.”
I blink at him.
Wes leans over me and kisses Roman first. The sight catches in my chest before their mouths even meet.
Wes grips the back of Roman’s neck. Roman opens for him, one hand remaining around my waist while the other rises to Wes’s shoulder.
Hunger passes between them, familiar and practiced, and watching it sends a fresh pulse through my exhausted body.
I feel it as much as I see it, Wes’s hand fisting Roman’s hair, Roman’s groan vibrating through my back where he’s still pressed against me.
“Watching you two is so hot, it’s unfair,” I say, breathless.
“You started it,” Roman says against Wes’s mouth.
Wes follows his gaze. “Are you gonna be a greedy little omega?”
“I have been repeatedly encouraged.” My purr rises, the desire and love between them setting off the sound from my chest. “I want to feel you. All of you.”