Chapter 10
Griffin
The car ride home was silent except for our breathing. Ivan's bike was still at the club—he'd deal with it tomorrow.
Maya sat in the middle of the back seat, one hand on my thigh, one hand on Ivan's. None of us spoke. My lips still tingled from where Ivan's mouth had been. My heart hadn't stopped racing since we'd left the club.
I kept glancing at him in the rearview mirror. He was staring out the window, jaw tight, but when our eyes met in the reflection, he didn't look away. Neither did I.
"You okay?" I asked.
He stared straight ahead. "Ask me when we get there."
We pulled into the driveway. The house was dark except for the porch light Maya had left on. I killed the engine, and for a moment, nobody moved.
"Inside," Maya said softly. It wasn't a question.
"Maya..." Ivan started.
"Inside," she repeated. "We can talk. Or we can do other things. But not out here."
We followed her through the front door and up the stairs. I was hyper-aware of Ivan behind me, his footsteps, his breathing, the heat radiating off his body. The hallway felt narrower than usual.
The bedroom was lit in a warm amber glow from the bedside lamp. King-sized bed. White sheets. Plenty of room for three.
I'd imagined this moment for weeks. Since that night I'd watched them through the cracked door, my hand around my cock, wanting something I couldn't name. Now I was here. Not watching from the outside. Inside.
Maya moved first. She crossed to Ivan and kissed him softly, her small hands sliding up his chest. I watched their lips meet, watched her body press against his, and felt none of the jealousy I'd braced for. Only heat. Only want.
When they broke apart, Maya turned to me. Her lips were pink from kissing, slightly parted.
"Your turn," she whispered.
I cupped her face in my hands and brushed my lips against hers. Soft. Warm. But underneath, the taste of Ivan. Cedar and whiskey. My tongue chased it, and Maya moaned into my mouth as I deepened the kiss.
When we separated, her breathing was ragged. She glanced at Ivan, then back at me. The air between us shifted. Permission. Anticipation.
"Now him," she said.
I turned to face him.
Ivan stood three feet away, watching me with those intense green eyes. His chest rose and fell beneath his black shirt. His hands hung at his sides, but they weren't relaxed. They were ready. Waiting.
My pulse thundered as I stepped toward him.
This was different from the club. There, it had been dark, loud, easy to blame on the vodka. Here, in the quiet amber light of the bedroom, there were no excuses. This was a choice.
I stopped inches from him. Close enough to feel his breath on my face.
"I've wanted this," I said quietly. "Since before the club. Since I watched you with her."
A muscle ticked at his jawline. "You watched us."
"Yes."
"And you wanted..." He stopped. Swallowed. "Me."
"Yes."
"Fuck." The word came out rough. "I don't know how to do this."
"Neither do I." I didn't have answers. I just had want. I leaned in slowly, giving him every chance to pull away. "We'll figure it out."
He didn't pull away. Our lips met, tentative at first, just a brush of skin against skin. Then his hand came up to grip the back of my neck, and the kiss deepened.
Ivan kissed like he did everything else, with intensity, with focus, with complete commitment. His tongue slid against mine, demanding, and I gave him everything he asked for. My hands found his chest, his shoulders, the hard muscle beneath his shirt. He was solid. Warm. Real.
When we broke apart, both of us breathing hard, the tension between us had changed. He was looking at me differently now. Not like a rival. Not like an obstacle. Like something he wanted.
That look. God. That look was everything I hadn't known I needed.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing." But his voice was softer than I'd ever heard it. "Just didn't expect you to..."
"To what?"
"To feel like that."
Maya's voice came from behind me, low and amused. "I think you're both wearing too many clothes."
I felt her hands at my waist, working my belt loose. Cool air hit my skin as she tugged my shirt over my head. I kept my eyes on Ivan as she undressed me, watched him watching her hands on my body.
She moved to him next.
"Arms up," she said.
He obeyed. His shirt came off, that sculpted chest I'd imagined touching since the night I'd watched him inside her. Then his pants. Then his boxers.
"Your turn," she said to me, hooking her fingers in my waistband.
When she pulled my boxers down, my erection sprang free. And then, contact. Skin against skin. My cock brushing against Ivan's.
We both inhaled sharply. Ivan's hand came up to grip my hip, steadying us both, and our foreheads pressed together.
"Can I touch you?" The words came out rough but low, almost a whisper.
He nodded once, his body rigid. "Yeah. Yeah, you can."
I reached between us and wrapped my hand around his length. Thick. Hot. Pulsing with his heartbeat. His breath caught as I stroked him slowly, learning the weight of him, the texture. I'd touched men before, but never one I wanted like this. Never one who made me feel like I wasn't the safe choice.
"That okay?" I asked.
"Yeah." His voice was strained. "Yeah, that's... don't stop."
His eyes grew darker as I worked him. His hips pushed forward into my grip. When he grabbed my face and kissed me again, hard, urgent, I groaned against his mouth but didn't stop stroking.
My free hand found the back of his neck, thumb tracing the same slow circle I always traced on Maya.
Ivan went still under my touch. Then he exhaled, and I felt the tension in him release.
"My turn," Maya said.
We broke apart to find her kneeling between us, looking up with those dark, hungry eyes.
"Both of you," she said. "I want both of you."
She wrapped her lips around me first.
Heat. Wet heat and suction and Maya's tongue doing that thing she always did. She'd always been good at this, but tonight there was something more. An edge. My eyes fluttered shut as she took me deeper, her hands gripping my thighs, saliva coating my length. The wet sounds filled the quiet room.
"Fuck," I hissed, looking down at her. Her face was flushed, eyes watering, mouth stretched around me. "Just like that."
I was getting close, too close, when she pulled back with a soft cough. Before I could protest, she'd shifted to Ivan, taking his much larger cock between her lips.
Watching her struggle to accommodate his size made my stomach clench. Not jealousy. Just pure, desperate want. Ivan's head fell back, his throat working.
"That's it," he rasped. "That's it."
She bobbed on him for a minute, then came back to me. Then back to him. Alternating. Teasing. Driving us both insane.
"Maya," Ivan growled. "You're killing me."
"That's the idea."
I couldn't take it anymore.
I pulled her up from the floor and carried her to the bed in one motion. She fell back against the pillows, legs parting instinctively, exposing how wet she was. Soaked. Ready.
"Griffin..." she started.
"I need to taste you first."
I knelt between her thighs and kissed down her stomach, her hip bones, the crease of her thighs. She squirmed beneath me, fingers tangling in my hair.
"Griffin..."
"Patience."
I spread her wider and lowered my mouth to her center.
The first taste made me groan. Sweet and musky and entirely Maya. I licked through her folds, slow and deliberate, circling her clit before dipping my tongue inside her. She cried out, her hips bucking against my face.
I devoured her. There was no other word for it. I licked and sucked and explored every inch of her while she writhed and moaned above me. When I looked up, I saw she'd turned her head to the side, taking Ivan into her mouth again. His hand cupped her breast, squeezing hard enough to leave marks.
The image burned itself into my brain. Maya spread open for me, Ivan's cock in her mouth, the three of us connected.
"She's close," Ivan said, watching her face. "I can tell."
"I know." I returned to my task with renewed hunger. My tongue pushed deep inside her, fucking her the way my cock wanted to.
She was making muffled moans around Ivan's length, her body tensing, her thighs trembling around my head.
And I knew exactly what would push her over the edge. What would push all of us over the edge.
Something my tongue couldn't do.