Page 259 of What We Become

“Open for me, kitten.”

She parts her lips immediately, eyes finding mine through the curtain of her hair, and I swear I nearly come from that alone. I stroke my thumb over her lower lip, then feed her two fingers. She sucks them in with a slow little hum that goes straight to the root of me.

“Jesus,” Eli mutters.

“No,” I say. “Milo. Keep up.”

Sage bites my fingers lightly. I grin.

Behind her, Holden makes a low, impatient sound and slides his fingers through her slick heat. “Enough foreplay.”

“That is a deeply offensive thing to say while foreplay is actively happening,” I inform him.

Then Knox’s hand closes on the back of my neck and squeezes just enough to make me shut up.

Fair. Annoying, but fair.

I pull my fingers from Sage’s mouth and kiss her instead, hard and sloppy, while Holden positions himself against her pussy and pushes inside.

“Oh—”

Sage’s cry punches straight through me, cut sharp with pleasure as Holden sinks all the way in and stills for one brutal second like he needs to remember how to breathe.

“Fuck,” he says, low and wrecked behind her.

“Yeah, that seems right,” I mutter, because if I stop talking I might combust.

Then Micah slides in from the side, cups her face, and kisses her.

It starts tender for maybe half a heartbeat because he can’t help being who he is, and then something in him gives. His hand fists in her hair, his mouth opens over hers, and the sound that comes out of him is this helpless, hungry moan he pours right into her mouth like he’s feeding it to her.

I actually shudder.

“Oh, that is criminally hot,” I say.

Micah either doesn’t hear me or has chosen growth through ignoring me, because he just keeps kissing her harder. Sage melts into it with a muffled little sound, and then Eli drops to his knees beside him.

The second I clock what he’s doing, my entire brain lights up like Vegas.

“Well, hello, plot twist.”

Eli shoots me a look that says shut the fuck up, but his hand is already wrapping around Micah’s cock. One stroke. Two. Then he takes him in, and Micah jerks against Sage’s mouth with another groan that gets swallowed whole.

Jesus Christ.

Micah kisses like he’s trying to drown in her, and Eli sucks him off like he’s punishing him for being beautiful. It’s filthy and intimate and so offensively gorgeous. My mouth actually waters.

Holden’s hand is still braced between Sage’s shoulders, his hips starting that controlled, devastating roll into her that always looks restrained right up until it absolutely isn’t. Micah is wrecking her mouth. Eli is wrecking Micah. And suddenly I am violently, spiritually offended by the fact that I’m not currently involved in at least three more ways.

So I fix that.

I crawl around Sage’s side and catch Holden by the jaw mid-thrust. His eyes slice to mine—cold, bright, already blown dark at the edges—and I kiss him before he can say something cutting and annoyingly memorable.

He makes a rough sound into my mouth that goes straight to my cock. His mouth opens under mine with immediate, punishing intent, all bite and control and that banked violence he wears like a second skin. Behind the kiss, I feel the rhythm of him still driving into Sage—steady, deep, uncompromising—and the combination nearly shorts out what little remains of my executive function.

“Oh, fuck, that’s hot,” I breathe against his mouth.

“It could be hotter,” he says.