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“No, more,” he said when I drew back.
“You want more? Go and get it,” I said, then jerked my head to Aaron, who watched us with burning eyes. I disentangled myself, going back to my place by the log, watching them consider my command.
“This…this will make a statement,” Brandon said.
“It’s who we are, isn’t it?” I asked.
I gazed at the two of them, waiting for an indication of what they wanted to do.
“You have the most to lose,” Brandon said to Aaron.
The other man nodded. There was some tightness in his shoulders, but he reached out one arm and gestured for him to approach.
It was weird, listening to the exclamations of the crowd as Brandon straddled Aaron, sitting where I had just sat, kissing the lips I still felt the imprint of. I watched them kiss with a kind of brutality I never got to experience. They clawed at each other so violently, I was expecting to hear fabric rip.
Everyone would get used to this—that the two of them were together as well as with me. They would be free to touch each other as well as me, stroke each other’s hair, hold each other’s hand, show in the million ways I took for granted that they loved each other. But for some reason, I didn’t want to become accustomed to it. The ego-driven sting that came from being excluded for just a second heightened things somehow. Brandon’s insistence on this theatrical element to sex was all about creating controlled drama to what would otherwise become a humdrum thing as our re
lationship evolved. He would be forever orchestrating new ways to keep us on that edge, to keep us craving it, to keep us together.
Because he knows, I thought. Familiarity was the perfect breeding ground for love and complacency, and he would never allow the negative to happen. When they pulled apart, I took in their pants and their bee-stung lips hungrily, imagining them wrapped around my nipples, sucking each other’s cocks. Fuck this. This was my pack, and it was time for the games to stop.
“Tent, now.”
“You need to eat, Jules,” one of them said. I didn’t know which. Food was completely superfluous as other hungers that had been stoked so carefully roared to life. I was starving for them. I needed them naked and under and over me. I needed us to come together, to try and replicate as best we could what we had wrought in the psychic space. Being apart from them hurt. My skin itched, and I needed their hands on me.
Brandon shook his head as he watched my fingers turn to claws.
“We’ll bring your food. You’re eating it afterwards.”
“Whatever. Let's go.”
I dimly noted my pack’s reaction as we stood to leave. Jack and Hawk smiled as we went, still feeling the first throb of the mate bond enough to know what was happening. Finn just followed us with his eyes without response. Slade was drinking and talking shit with Aaron’s guys, but he looked up and frowned slightly when we left. He managed to smile and wave though.
“Naked,” I snapped as soon as we dove within the darkened gloom of the tent. A small LED light cast deep shadows over them, showed me they weren’t following my instructions. “Now.”
“Now, Jules…” Brandon said.
“No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head violently. “You’ve played your games, but that ends now. I can’t anymore. I need you, please. I’m not above begging.”
They both glanced at each other, looking concerned, but they put the food down in the corner of the tent.
Something settled inside me once they started to strip, so I ripped my own clothes off, tossing them to one side in my haste. They froze for a second, no doubt smelling whatever scent I gave off that indicated receptiveness. I lay there, a messy tangle of limbs, watching them watch me. Their eyes darkened, and their chests worked in long shuddering breaths. A spike of fear shot up my spine. They didn’t look like my lovers, these were the big bad wolves, ready to eat me up. I let my thighs fall open. I was ready for them to.
Both of them surged forward, falling all over each other to get to me. Aaron’s mouth slammed down on mine, our kisses slightly flavoured by the taste of our blood. Brandon dropped kisses on my inner thigh, as if to rewrite the spots where Aaron had touched me, but I tugged him up.
This was starting to go the way it usually did—endless lovely foreplay building and building to multiple amazing finishes. But that’s not what I wanted. I couldn’t tolerate anything that separated us right now. I needed him, them.
Brandon’s brows creased and smoothed as he looked down at me, obviously confused about what was happening, until I reached down.
“Jules—” he started as I grasped his cock, then stopped as I rubbed the head against my cunt. “Fuck!” His eyes went wide, then searched for Aaron’s. “She’s so fucking wet.”
“Don’t tell me that,” Aaron said before he groaned, something that just got louder as I reached over and cupped his balls with my hand.
Brandon finally relented, sinking into me. I felt every bloody inch, my back bowing until he was finally seated deep.
“You OK?” he asked, the strain of holding still plain on his face, but I didn’t want him, Aaron, anyone to hold back. I answered with a flex of my hips, working him in and out within the limited range of movement I had. “Goddammit,” Brandon growled, but he began to thrust back.
Something inside my skull broke loose and floated under the rapid pace of his thrusts, my head tipping back, my arms falling loosely against the sleeping roll. I was long and loose and liquid, but I was also hard and thrusting. I was Brandon’s gasps and Aaron’s hungry eyes, watching the proceedings. I opened my eyes a slit and smiled at the big man, then gestured for him to come closer. My mouth opened, to pant, to grunt some very unladylike noises of pleasure, to lick my lips and make it plain where I thought his cock should go. He shuffled over, running a gentle hand along my jaw, before placing that big bulbous head against my lips. I swallowed him, my cries reverberating down his length, provoking a spasmodic twitch of his hips.
