Page 85 of Hide Little Traitor

NOW

Damon doesn’t bother coming out for dinner. He’s locked up tight in his bedroom like a teenager who hates his parents, and despite my desperate need to make things right, I don’t bother him.

I accepted a long time ago that my care for Damon is one-sided, and although there have been glimmers of hope that there’s still something there, I refuse to let myself get my hopes up.

I know a lost cause when I see one.

My call with Camilla was an adventure. Between Kovu hijacking the phone every thirty seconds and him and Ryker trading knife recommendations, I barely got to speak to her, but she sounds good. Happy.

Things are changing in New York, and she assured me it was a good time for me to be out of the city as things transition to a new normal.

I miss her, and I even find myself missing those sociopaths of hers, but as she so helpfully pointed out, I seem to be collecting my own, and when I tried to deny it, Ryker took the phone and all but told her about the threesome we had last night.

I think my cheeks will be heated with embarrassment for at least another week after that.

Now we’re sitting on the couch watching an old action movie on a television that I think might be as old as I am, but I’m not paying attention.

I haven’t been since Ryker slid his hand beneath my oversized shirt and started slowly circling my clit through my panties.

And as if that weren’t bad enough, Ronan has an arm thrown over my shoulder, gently brushing my nipple through the thin fabric.

Kingston sits across from us pretending he doesn’t know what’s happening over here, but the bulge in his sweatpants tells an entirely different story.

For a man that prides himself on control, he struggles to stop himself from looking over here every few seconds.

His hands are fisted over his chest, his body locked tight with tension, and I can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of game to make him snap.

It wouldn’t surprise me. Ryker does seem to enjoy meddling far more than someone with his occupation should.

“You’re soaking through your panties, Siren,” Ryker murmurs against the shell of my ear. “I bet he can smell your arousal from over there.”

My lips part, but I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from moaning.

“You smell so fucking good, Sparrow. What do you think he’d do if I kneeled between your legs and spent the rest of the movie having your pussy for dessert?”

I swallow another moan that tries to escape, but when Ronan pinches my nipple, I can’t catch the hiss that follows.

Kingston’s dark eyes lock on mine, and I’m sure he can see how flushed I am. The room may be dark, but the glow of the television is more than enough to show how these men affect me.

I’m both desperate to ask them to stop and to beg them for more, but they don’t make me ask for what I need.

Ryker slips his fingers beneath my panties, running them through my aching heat and letting out a pleased rumble. “So fucking wet, Siren.”

He finds my clit at the same time Ronan slips his hand into the neck of the shirt, his warm fingers brushing my hard nipple and almost sending me across the room.

Every touch is maddening. Both too much and not enough, and all the while Kingston watches beneath dark lashes.

I never thought I would enjoy being put on show like this, but the thrill drives my arousal through the roof.

Being watched is even more exhilarating than the idea of being caught.

Ryker dips a long finger into my sex and pumps it a few times, taking extra care to drag his fingertip over my front wall.

Jesus.

I had multiple orgasms last night. I should not crave another one this badly.

He withdraws and presses a second finger in beside the first, adding a delicious stretch that drives my need higher.