Page 42

Somehow, I manage to pull my clothes on. The borrowed tee and boxers are softer than they should be, and I run my hands down the front of the shirt, feeling the fabric yield under my touch as I smooth it out.

“Thank you,” I murmur softly, looking up to see that Ronan has pants on that sit low on his hips. The thin flannel material looks just as comfy as what I’m wearing, though I have a chronic allergy to wearing pants to bed, myself. Not when I am chronically overheated once the blankets come into play.

Ronan’s smile is bright and kind. He steps over to kiss me one more time, though this time it’s chaste and playful. “Anytime. Lots of times, actually. I have a lot of years to make up for.” He smiles and opens the door before continuing. “Honestly? I could spend the rest of the night making up for those years, if you’d–”

Ansel’s loud cry has me bolting to my feet, though I realize belatedly that Ronan doesn’t look very worried. He barely turns when I fly out the door, half-expecting Elaine to be here and chopping up my friend.

“Ansel!” I gasp, heart lurching. “Hey, are you–”

My words fail me when Ansel cries out again, arching off the bed as Adrien works both their cocks in his hand, his gaze finding mine and a slow smile spreading over his face.

“There she is,” he greets, like he’s been waiting for me. His eyes flick back to Ansel, and he leans over him, bucking his hips into his hand. “Get it together, Ansel,” he sneers almost savagely. “Come for me. Come so she can see what a desperate thing you are when you’re all worked up.”

16

Istand in the door, frozen, trying hard to process what the fuck is going on in front of me.

Well, that’s not exactly true. I have eyes and a half-working brain. I know what’s happening in front of me. It’s just that I can barely believe it.

Adrien grins and drives into Ansel again, shoving his face back into the bed as he grinds his hips against the smaller man’s ass hard. I watch, and continue watching, unable to look away from the cinematic performance in front of me.

“Oh my god,” I murmur, leaning back against Ronan behind me with my hands clenched in my t-shirt. “Can I name it?”

“Stop,” he growls in warning.

“Oh please let me come up with a title–”

“I will throw you out the window–”

“This, folks, is going to be called…” I reach out and spread my hands in front of me like presenting something to a crowd. “Saving Ryan’s Privates.”

Ansel howls as he comes, his face still in the pillow, and Adrien laughs breathlessly at my words before he drives himself deep into his ass one more time. His hands grip Ansel’s hair tightly, and I see a flash of teeth when he leans down to bite at his throat hard enough to make Ansel whine and arch his hips.

I can’t help the way my body presses back against Ronan, and I’m reminded again that out of all four of us, he’s the only one who hasn’t gotten off tonight.

That feels unfair. Like a grave injustice that needs to be corrected immediately.

Thankfully, watching Ansel and Adrien has the prickles of arousal simmering in me again, and when I reach back for him, Ronan drags me against his chest to huff and kiss my shoulder.

“You’re easy to read,” he murmurs as he slides both hands around my waist. “You like watching them? I bet you love it, don’t you? Watching Adrien putting Ansel in his place. Poor Ans. He never gets to top with Adrien. Never. Always taking, never giving. Always the one being shoved into a pillow and being made to bark so he can come.”

That definitely shouldn’t be as hot as it is. But Adrien smiles, eyes flicking up to Ronan’s in appreciation and arrogance that I don’t miss. His hips roll against Ansel’s again, drawing another desperate, needy noise from the latter.

“I guess my time is done,” he sighs. “I suppose the princess deserves to spend time with her knights.” As I watch, he pulls out, leaving Ansel gasping at the loss.

“Adrien,” Ansel looks up at me, then back over his shoulder. “You don’t need to–”

“You really don’t need to go,” I agree, feeling guilty. But Adrien just tugs his jeans back up and steps away from the bed, reaching out to grab me and pull me into a quick kiss.

He tastes like sex and, on second thought, a little bit of blood as well. Which isn’t a surprise, I decide, when I notice the bloody lip that Ansel sports and the bite marks on his shoulders. His freckled, tan skin is spotted with bruises and even a little bit of blood, though judging by the way he’s still drooping on the bed, he isn’t complaining much.

“I have to go finish cleaning up,” he murmurs against my lips. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll see you soon. I wore him out for you, so now he won’t be such a brat.”

Ansel makes a noise of protest, but doesn’t get up. Still, he manages to glare at the two of us, only for Adrien to move back to his side.

I expect him to smack his cheek or make from of him again. I expect him to be flirty or mean or sexy or…something.

But I don’t expect him to kneel down next to the bed and kiss Ansel sweetly. I pretend not to hear the praise he showers my best friend with, or the sweet words of encouragement and care. He even nuzzles against him like a cat.