Page 256 of What We Become

“Rude. That’s literally my brand.”

“It’s one of them,” Holden says dryly.

I flip him off behind Sage’s shoulder.

He looks unimpressed, which only makes me want to fuck his mouth. Or vice versa.

Knox finally lifts his head and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks at her like he wants to eat her all over again.

“Mine,” he says, voice low.

“Ours,” Micah corrects gently, already smiling as he crawls up the bed.

Knox’s mouth twitches. “Ours.”

“Better,” I say. “We literally just had a ceremony about this.”

Sage laughs and pushes her hair out of her face.

“Micah’s next.”

“Followed by me,” I add.

“I remember the scores, Milo. Then Eli. Then Holden.”

Holden raises an eyebrow.

She points at him. “And I remember what I promised you.”

“Handcuffs,” he says.

I look between them. “Oh? I love this idea.”

Micah takes Sage’s hand.

“Any requests?”

“Yes. Milo doesn’t get to provide commentary.”

I put a hand against my chest. “On our wedding night?”

“Especially on our wedding night.”

“You married me knowing this was a pre-existing condition.”

She kisses my cheek. “And I’m very brave.”

Micah laughs and draws her attention back to him.

We take our turns in order, and every moment I have to stand there makes me regret even starting this game. It’s way more fun when we’re all in this together, and you can’t figure out whose cum is on whom.

But Micah is already leaning over her, his mouth finding the hollow of her throat where the choker sits, and I watch his hands spread over her ribs with that gentleness he has, that knowing, like he’s reading her body for what it needs before she asks. She arches into him, her fingers threading into his curls, and the sound she makes is soft and grateful.

I adjust my position, pressing my palm against my own thigh to ground myself. Waiting is a skill I’ve cultivated in other contexts—surveillance, data recovery, the long game of building a digital trail that doesn’t exist—but this is different. This is wanting something I can see and smell and almost taste, and having to wait my turn like a civilized person.

Holden moves behind me, close enough that I feel his heat against my bare shoulder. “Suffering?” he murmurs.

“Artistically,” I reply.