Chapter 24 Owen #2
“How do you play?” Tessa whispers. Her breath catches the second I reach out to run a finger down the side of her neck, tracing the pulse that’s already starting to hammer there.
“It’s simple,” I say, dropping my voice an octave. “We list things that Mr. Sterling would consider deviant behavior—things that would make his blood pressure medication fail. And then… we do them.”
The air in the room shifts instantly. The playfulness remains, but the heat violently spikes. The room becomes heavy and thick, charged with crackling electricity that always hums between the four of us.
“I’ll start,” Ethan says from above her.
He puts his glass down with a heavy thud. Using both hands to cup her face, his thumbs dig into her jawline, tilting her head back until her throat is beautifully bared.
“Touching an employee,” he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly threat. “Violation of the public decency mandate.”
He bends down and kisses her upside down, devouring her mouth with a sweeping, possessive arrogance that makes her whimper against his lips. Pulling back, his eyes are dark and heavy with intent.
“Your turn, Owen.”
“My turn,” I whisper.
I move my hand to her knee, sliding it up and dragging my nails lightly over her skin. I push past the hem of her shorts to the warm, soft skin of her inner thigh, feeling her muscles immediately clench.
“Two men touching the same woman,” I suggest softly. “Simultaneous contact. Massive violation of the family values addendum.”
Tessa gasps into the air. Her legs fall open for me—an automatic, conditioned response that drives me fucking crazy. My fingers brush the cotton of her panties, and she’s already soaking wet, the intense heat radiating straight through the fabric.
“Violation,” Asher says.
I look over to see him watching us, his pupils blown so wide they swallow the blue of his irises. Abandoning his cards, he crawls over with that predatory grace that always surprises the people who think he’s just a harmless nerd.
“Public nudity,” Asher suggests, reaching for the hem of my t-shirt that she’s currently wearing.
“We’re in a private residence,” I argue, even though I’m already helping him lift the shirt over her head. “Does it count?”
“The curtains are open,” Asher notes, glancing at the window where the lights of downtown Austin twinkle far below us. “Satellite imaging. Drone surveillance. Neighbors with telescopes. It is technically public.”
“Accepted,” Ethan growls.
We pull the shirt completely off.
Tessa is naked underneath. Beautifully, gloriously naked. Her skin is flushed pink from the sake and the sudden attention, her breasts heavy, and her nipples pebbled into hard points of desire.
“God,” I breathe. “Sterling is an absolute idiot. If he saw these tits, he’d double the investment.”
“Shut up, Owen,” Tessa laughs, but the sound quickly turns into a broken moan as Asher ducks his head and takes her nipple into his mouth.
He sucks hard, his tongue flicking the sensitive nub while his hand squeezes her other breast, kneading the soft flesh.
It’s on. The game dissolves, and the pure, primal competition begins.
“Bed,” Ethan commands.
“No,” I say. “Here. The rug is soft, and I want to see her spread out.”
“Rug,” Tessa agrees breathlessly, her hands tangling in Asher’s hair to hold his head against her chest.
Ethan slides off the sofa to join us on the floor.
We surround her, forming a solid phalanx of muscle and pure intent. It’s playful, chaotic, and incredibly greedy.
I focus entirely on her mouth. I kiss her deeply, tasting the sweetness of the sake and the sharp spice of Ethan lingering on her tongue. I nip at her lower lip hard enough to sting, then soothe it with a slow swipe of my tongue.
“You taste fucking delicious,” I murmur against her lips.
“You talk too much,” she whispers, pulling me closer by the back of my neck.
Ethan takes charge of the rest, moving confidently between her legs. He doesn’t hesitate to hook her knees over his broad shoulders, spreading her wide and displaying her to the room.
I have a front-row seat as he buries his face in her.
Tessa screams—a sharp, shocked sound of absolute pleasure that bounces off the walls. Her hips buck wildly off the floor as she actively seeks more friction.
“Ethan!” she cries out, her voice breaking.
I hold her down, pinning her wrists to the rug above her head and interlacing our fingers to anchor her in place.
“Take it, T,” I whisper directly in her ear. “Let him eat you. Be a good girl for us.”
“It’s too much,” she sobs, thrashing helplessly under my grip. “You’re all… everywhere.”
“That’s the exact point,” Asher says, lifting his head from her breast. His lips are wet and swollen. “Saturation. Overload. Total system failure.”
He moves down, joining Ethan between her legs. Two mouths.
“Oh my god,” Tessa wails. Her head thrashes from side to side, her eyes rolling back into her head. “Owen! Owen, help!”
“I’m helping,” I grin against her throat.
I kiss her neck, biting down gently on the sensitive cord of muscle there while grinding my hips against her thigh, letting her feel exactly how hard my cock is through my jeans.
They completely work her over. I watch Ethan’s broad, forceful tongue working into her, while Asher focuses entirely on her clit, licking and sucking with a maddening, flickering speed that has her openly sobbing.
They’re absolutely feasting on her.
She comes incredibly hard.
It’s a violent, full-body convulsion. She clamps down on my hands, her nails digging into my palms until I’m almost sure she’s drawn blood. She screams into my shoulder, her body bowing right off the rug as she hangs suspended in pure, blinding sensation.
Ethan and Asher don’t stop. They devour her together until she’s sobbing, completely undone, and totally limp on the Persian rug.
Only then do they move up.
Ethan drags his heavy body over hers, looking absolutely feral with his messed-up hair and dark, dilated eyes. He unzips his pants, shoving them down before ripping open a foil wrapper with his teeth and quickly rolling the sheer latex down his thick, angry length.
“Mine,” he rasps, his voice dropping to a harsh, possessive rumble as he settles his heavy weight between her thighs.
“Ours,” I correct, slapping his arm lightly.
“Fine,” he grunts, pressing the blunt head of his cock directly against her slick, swollen folds. “Ours.”
From my spot pinning her wrists, I watch the raw, wet friction as he pushes into her, stretching her wide open to bury his cock to the very hilt.
She gasps, her back arching violently off the rug as she takes every single inch of him. She’s so tight he has to visibly grit his teeth, the thick veins in his neck bulging as she wraps her legs tightly around his waist to pull him even deeper.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Ethan groans, withdrawing almost completely before slamming his hips back down.
The wet, heavy sound of skin slapping against skin quickly fills the room.
I watch them. I watch the ancient, primal rhythm of it. I watch the way Asher strokes her hair, whispering filthy things in her ear that make her violently shiver.
“You like that?” Asher whispers. “You like taking his cock while we watch?”
“Yes,” she whimpers. “Yes, please.”
I feel a sudden, sharp tightness in my chest that has absolutely nothing to do with lust. It’s a painful, expanding pressure right behind my ribs.
This is it.
I lean down and kiss her cheek, tasting her sweat and her tears.
“I love you,” I whisper.
It’s quiet, buried under the sound of their heavy breathing and the wet, rhythmic sound of Ethan fucking her. But Tessa instantly stiffens, and her wide, glassy, terrified eyes find mine.
“Owen?” she breathes.
My heart stutters. I said it to her a month ago to keep her from quitting, but saying it now during sex carries a terrifying, permanent weight.
“Don’t panic,” I whisper, forcing a light, reassuring smile right back into place. “Just part of the game. Rule violation: catching feelings for the brand strategist.”
She stares at me, opening her mouth to speak, but Ethan thrusts hard, hitting that sensitive spot deep inside her, and her words shatter into a broken cry. She throws her head back, lost to the sensation all over again.
I smile, but it feels incredibly shaky.
I told her. I broke the biggest rule of all.
But as I watch her fall apart in my brother’s arms, with Asher holding her hand and me guarding her heart… I know one thing for sure.
I don’t regret it. Not for a single second.
Hours later, the living room is an absolute wreck.
Clothes are scattered everywhere like the debris field of a tornado. The Uno cards are strewn about like confetti—I’m pretty sure I see a Draw Four card wedged under the sofa. An empty sake bottle lies on its side, a single drop of liquid pooling on the wood floor.
We’re just a pile on the rug, a tangle of heavy limbs and slow, steady breathing.
Tessa is sound asleep, curled up in the middle as the nucleus of our atom. Her head rests on my chest, her legs are thrown over Ethan’s thighs, and Asher is curled behind her, spooning her back with his arm draped protectively over her waist.
I run my hand slowly up and down her arm. Her skin is soft, cooling quickly in the air conditioning.
“She’s out,” Ethan whispers. His voice is incredibly rough, a low rumble in the quiet room. He sounds wrecked.
Good wrecked.
“We wore her out,” Asher says quietly. “Endorphin crash. Her REM cycle should begin in approximately twelve minutes.”
“She barely ate dinner,” I note, frowning slightly. I look at the sushi platters on the table. They’re mostly demolished, but her plate is still completely full. “She picked at the sashimi. She didn’t touch the spicy tuna at all, and that’s her favorite.”
“She said she wasn’t hungry,” Ethan dismisses, closing his eyes. “Nerves. Sterling. The stress of the contract.”
“Maybe,” I say.
But the unease scratches at the back of my mind. I look closely at her face. In the moonlight filtering through the window, she looks younger and significantly softer. There are faint purple shadows under her eyes that her makeup had been hiding earlier.
“She looks tired,” I say quietly. “Really tired. Not just ‘long day’ tired. Deeply tired.”
“We’ve been pushing too hard,” Ethan says.
He opens his eyes and reaches out, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead.
His touch is impossibly gentle for a man with hands that big—hands that can casually dismantle a weapon or build an entire company.
“Once the funds clear, she can take a break. We’ll send her to a spa. Or force her to take a vacation.”
“We should go with her,” Asher says. “A remote location. Highly secure. No cell service.”
“A honeymoon,” I joke.
Ethan looks at me, but he doesn’t laugh. His gaze is incredibly intense, stripping me bare.
“Careful, Owen,” he warns softly. “Don’t say things you can’t take back.”
I look down at Tessa, remembering the exact words I whispered when she was on the edge. I wonder if saying it during sex terrified her more than when I said it during our fight.
“I never say things I don’t mean,” I tell him.
Ethan stares me down for a long moment before giving a single nod. A silent acknowledgement.
A shifting of the lines. We aren’t just sleeping together anymore, and we all know it. We’re in extremely deep water, and none of us are swimming for shore.
“Let’s get her to bed,” Ethan says.
He moves to pick her up. Tessa stirs, making a small, whimpering sound in her sleep. Her hand immediately goes to her stomach, curling protectively over her navel.
“Mmm… no,” she mumbles, her face scrunching up in distress. “Sick.”
“You’re not sick, baby,” Ethan soothes her, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. “Just tired. I’ve got you.”
He carries her toward the bedroom. Asher follows, quietly turning off the lights as he goes.
I stay on the rug for a second, picking up the Queen of Hearts from the scattered deck of cards.
Sick.
A weird feeling prickles the back of my neck. Intuition. It’s the exact same gut instinct that tells me when a UX design is wrong, when a line of code is going to break, or when a massive disaster is right around the corner.
She didn’t drink the sake. I poured her a glass, but it sat full on the table all night. She didn’t eat the raw fish. She’s completely exhausted, and she’s complaining of being sick in her sleep.
No, I tell myself, shaking my head. It’s just stress.
The launch is eating us all alive, and the threat of Sterling’s contract is hanging heavily over our necks. We’re playing an incredibly dangerous game, and she’s taking the absolute brunt of the anxiety.
I toss the card onto the table. It lands face up, and the Queen stares right back at me.
I stand up and follow them into the bedroom.
We crawl into the big bed, pulling the duvet up and surrounding her to form a fortress of body heat and protection against the world. We secured the bridge funding. We have the company. We have the girl.
Everything is absolutely perfect.
So why can’t I shake the terrifying feeling that Sterling is going to find out and tear this all down?