Chapter 8
Josie
I cry out when his tongue presses against me.
The sound tears out of my throat before I can soften it, before I can make it smaller. My hips jump, and if his hands weren’t steady on my thighs, I would have folded in on myself.
Asher’s hold on me is firm but careful, and for a reckless moment I’m actually sad he won’t leave bruises. If I had marks on my skin, it would be a physical reminder that tonight is really happening.
His hands slide higher, distracting me from my thoughts, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh at the junction of my thighs. His hold is just firm enough that when I instinctively try to close them, I can’t.
My muscles strain anyway.
His grip adjusts immediately. One hand shifts, fingers spreading wider, thumb stroking a slow line upward. The other hand settles on my pubic bone.
“Easy,” he murmurs.
He is close enough that I feel the vibration of it against my skin before I process the word.
Logan’s weight shifts above me. The mattress dips. His mouth brushes my collarbone, then my throat. “You’re safe.”
Safe.
My thighs tremble under Asher’s hold.
I could say stop. They told me I could. The door isn’t locked. The hallway is right there. I could twist, shove, scramble off the bed. But his hands don’t feel like a trap.
His fingers flex slightly when I test him again, trying to pull my knees inward. He doesn’t let me. He doesn’t need to use strength. He’s unyielding in the gentlest way possible.
Asher drags his thumb in a slow arc along the inside of my thigh, not touching where I ache, just reminding me he’s there. My skin jumps under the stroke.
“You don’t have to hide.” He blows hot air over my pussy. “We want all of you. We love every freckle, every line, and every flaw.”
Logan’s hand slides down my side, covering my ribs, his palm spanning almost across my waist “Let him taste you,” he whispers against my jaw. “Let him take his time and worship your pussy like it ought to be.”
Asher’s fingers trace idle patterns while he watches me. Watches the way my stomach flutters when he moves. Watches the way my hips tilt without instruction. He keeps the pressure constant and warm, thumbs stroking every few seconds, like he’s reminding my body that this is chosen.
It sparks something dangerous and intoxicating.
I don’t have to perform. For the first time in a very long time, I simply let go.
My fingers tighten in Logan’s hair. My head falls back against the pillow. “Yes.”
I relax my thigh muscles and let my knees fall outward. My butt sinks into the mattress.
“Good girl,” Asher murmurs before running his tongue from my asshole to my clit in one, long, firm lick.
Oh, God!
“Hmm, she tastes delicious.” Asher runs a finger between my pussy lips, scooping up some of my cream. “Want a taste?”
“Sure.”
I can hear the wicked grin in Logan’s voice before he shifts. I don’t look.
“Hmm. Scrumptious.”
Before I can think of feeling embarrassed, Asher wiggles his tongue against my clit.
“Ahh...” The noise catches me off guard. I hadn't meant to make a sound at all.
“Feel that?” Logan murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.
I feel the way my muscles respond. The way my skin heats. The way my body betrays how much I want this.
Big hands cup my breasts, then rough fingertips pluck at my nipples.
My pulse pounds in my ears.
“Do that again, her cunt just spasmed around my finger.” Asher lifts his head long enough to give Logan his order before returning to feasting on my pussy.
He eats me out like I’m the world's most delicious snack, and he just got off a diet. It doesn’t take long before my core muscles are shaking, my pussy is clenching and trying to suck Asher’s fingers inside, and my legs are cramping.
I need to come so bad. “P-please.”
The sound I make is pathetic. And I should resent the loss of control. Instead, my body melts under it.
“Oh, we aim to please. Let her come, Asher.”
Asher lifts his head. “Come for us, baby.”
Then he is on me again. Flicking my clit, stroking my G-spot. Everything inside me tightens.
“Let go, sweetling.” Logan squeezes my nipples to the point of pain.
And the knowledge that these men want my release almost as bad as I do sends a shiver of dark, thrilling relief straight through me.
My fingers tighten in Logan’s hair as his mouth drags over my breast. He groans low against my skin, the vibration sliding straight down my spine.
I’m caught between them—heat above, heat below—and there’s nowhere to hide.
Asher’s tongue moves again, slower this time.
A deliberate glide that makes my toes curl.
The intimacy of it steals my breath. My stomach trembles when he flattens his tongue and drags it upward again.
I feel how wet I am. He spreads me wider with his thumbs.
I expect embarrassment to flood in. It doesn’t.
He makes a low sound, almost approving, and the noise travels through me like a current.
My breath deepens without my permission, each inhale drawing him in, each exhale leaving me more exposed than the last. The sensation inside me gathers, not in a sharp spike but in a spreading warmth that coils like embers stirred back to life.
Every touch lingers just long enough to remind me I am here.
There is no rush in the way he moves, no urgency to finish me.
He builds me instead, layer by careful layer.
I feel it rising through me, that tightening current, threading up from my belly into my chest. My ribs expand as if I need more air to contain it.
I try to hold myself steady, to stay composed the way I always do when things threaten to overwhelm me.
I have spent years keeping my reactions measured, my pleasure polite, my need quiet enough not to scare anyone away.
But my body doesn’t seem interested in restraint tonight.
The tension swells, thick and luminous, until it buzzes beneath my skin.
My fingers clutch at the sheets, then at him, needing something solid to brace against. My thighs tremble.
My back arches without thought. I feel suspended over something vast and shimmering, aware that one more stroke, one more whisper against my skin, will tip me past the edge.
Part of me hesitates. I know how easily desire can be turned against a woman. How quickly it can be labeled excessive.
As if Logan senses my doubt, he sucks hard on one nipple while pulling on the other with insistent fingers.
The last thread snaps.
My pleasure unfolds; it opens inside me like a sudden bloom, petals spreading wide and helpless.
A sound breaks from my throat. I feel the wave crest and carry me, lifting me high enough that I forget to be contained.
My body answers the rhythm instead of fighting it, heat surging outward in bright pulses that leave my skin tingling and my thoughts scattered like ash in the wind.
“Yeah.” Logan presses a kiss on the hollow of my throat. “That’s it. Let go, Josie!”
It is not only the intensity of sensation that undoes me. It is the freedom in it.
The warmth spreads through me, dissolving the tight knot I have carried in my chest for so long that I forgot it was there. It loosens and melts, spilling into something almost unbearably tender.
When the waves begin to ebb, they leave me trembling. My limbs feel heavy, languid, as if I have been steeped in heat and drawn back out, changed. I cling to them, wanting to stay suspended in this quiet aftermath where my body still hums and my skin still glows.
I rest my forehead against Logan’s shoulder and breathe him in while I search for Asher with my free hand. My pulse gradually settles, but the warmth remains as a low, steady throb that feels like proof. Proof that my desire is not something to hide or tame.
I open my eyes, and the world feels wider somehow.
Logan
From the moment she starts to tip, I know.
It’s in the way her breath loses rhythm, the way her fingers stop trying to manage themselves and clutch instead. For as long as we’ve known her, she has always held back pieces of herself. I’ve felt it in the way she tenses before she relaxes. In the way she watches us watching her.
Now she forgets to watch.
Her back arches off the mattress, throat opening on a sound she clearly didn’t plan to make, and I feel it like a strike straight to my gut. Pride flares hot and immediate at being allowed to see her come undone.
I slide my hand down her side to her hip and hold her there, steady while the wave takes her. She bucks against Asher’s mouth, thighs trembling in his grip, and for a second she looks almost startled by how hard it hits her. Like she didn’t believe she was capable of feeling this much.
“Yeah,” I murmur against her skin, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat. “That’s it. Let go, Josie!”
Her fingers dig into my back. She’s not thinking about the marks she might leave. She’s just holding on.
Good.
The pleasure rolls through her in visible pulses. I watch it travel—through the tight line of her stomach, the tremor in her thighs, the way her mouth opens without apology. She’s beautiful like this.
Real.
Asher eases her through it with a skill and patience I never managed to achieve. I love that about him. He doesn’t chase noise. He chases depth. And tonight, she gives it to him. To us.
When her body finally softens, when the sharp edge of it melts into something slower and heavier, I lean in and take her mouth.
Her lips are swollen and warm under mine. She’s breathing hard, chest rising against my bare skin, and there’s a faint tremble still moving through her like aftershocks.
“You still think you’re not enough?” I ask quietly, brushing my mouth over hers again.
Dazed and with glassy eyes, she shakes her head.
That’s what I wanted.
Recognition.
Asher lifts his head between her thighs, satisfaction written plain across his face, and I meet his eyes over her body. There’s no competition in it. Only shared appreciation. Ours.
She lies between us, flushed and open, not trying to fold herself into something smaller. Not trying to cover up. She reaches for me, palm sliding over my chest like she needs the contact.
Possessiveness moves through me, slow like warm molasses.
I smooth a hand through her hair and kiss her again, softer this time, letting her feel the steadiness under the heat. Letting her know this isn’t a one-time indulgence. This isn’t a thrill we’ll forget in the morning.
She doesn’t look temporary.
She looks like she belongs here.
I glance at my brother, and a slow grin tugs at my mouth. “This first orgasm was easy.” I brush my thumb along her jaw. “Now let her work a bit for the next.”