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“Fuck me,” Knox mutters from his seat.

“Dude,” Miller warns, his voice a little strained. “I told you.”

“Sorry. It’s just her ass.”

“It’s perfect.” Miller says, rubbing my head. “I know.”

After a week of dressing like a boy and living in a barn like a farm animal, the compliments hit home. I lick and suck Miller’s cock, gliding my hand up and down the length for friction. He hums beneath me, fingers playing with my nipples. He grows bigger, tastes saltier, and I think he’s going to come in my mouth, but he taps my chin and lifts me, flipping us both over. His knees spread my thighs apart, and he hovers over me, one long body of corded muscle. His fingers dip between my legs, spreading the sticky warmth around. I shudder, the tingles I’d been feeling now full-on shocks. My cheeks burn at the obviousness of my want. He notices and says, “It’s sexy that you want me. Forcing it has its own pleasures, but having a girl spread out for you, wet and breathing heavy?” He kisses me, dragging his teeth over my bottom lip, and palms my breast. “It’s a different kind of high. You ready for me?” he asks, eyes meeting mine. He pushes in a finger, then a second. I mewl at the sensation. Pant for more.

I stroke his cock and reply, “Yes.”

He lines up our bodies and pushes in with a swift punch.

“Oh,” I cry, loving the feel of him so deep. My knees drop to the side, wanting to feel the stretch. “God, yes.”

Miller sets his rhythm slower than the night before. His mouth latches to my breast and over his head I see Knox slouched on the couch, hand pushed down the front of his joggers. Our eyes meet, and there’s this part of me that wants to recoil, to keep this moment private between me and Miller, but then he pulls out his cock and my breath catches.

He’s huge—proportional to his height and size.

I watch as he strokes down it leisurely, allowing it to bob in a slow, circular motion. The heat between my legs turns into an inferno. The sensation Miller is giving me amplified at the sight of Knox pleasuring himself. With his free hand, he pushes his shirt up and toys with his round, brown nipple. Our eyes hold and something deep passes through us, something that burns in my core.

“You like watching him too,” Miller says, and I turn my gaze back to him. His jaw is tense—he’s close—but he looks between me and his brother. “Don’t you?”

Knox’s motions grow less casual—more erratic. The skin around his nipple turns red, and he lets out a deep groan as he strokes his cock. I shift my gaze back to Miller. His eyes glazed with want. “I do like it,” I admit. Miller pulls out and punches in again, this time deeper. I exhale from the impact and close my eyes. I feel the both of them watching me. I hear their bodies and their grunts. The coil twisting in my core winds and winds, threatening to snap. Miller shoves his thumb in my mouth, and I suck on it. Drawing it back, he returns between my legs and presses it down on my clit. His teeth graze my earlobes, his breath hot and short.

“Come for me, kitten,” he says, and I can tell he’s waiting for me. They both are.

He rubs his thumb in a furious circle and the coil breaks, unfurling in waves of hot, delicious heat. “Oh fuck,” I say, clamping my hands down on Miller’s shoulders. I dig my nails into his flesh. “Holy fu—”

He swallows my curse, tongue sweeping against mine. His orgasm rips through him, cock buried deep inside. I wrap my legs around him, holding him close, riding it out together. I turn my head to the side, watchful and aware that Knox is still fisting his cock, still chasing the wave. His groan starts deep in his chest before exploding in a feral roar. Cum shoots over his fist, thick and wet, dripping over his knuckles.

He falls back, chest heaving. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, wrinkling his nose. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

The three of us catch our breath, each sweaty, sticky, covered in fluids. Miller rolls off my body, catching me in his arms and pulling me against his side. He kisses my temple. It’s soft. Sweet. Curious.

What the fuck just happened?

I want to ask, but I don’t want to break the spell. Outside these doors, Royer is still looking for me. Rat is on the warpath, waiting to dole out punishments. Knox knows our secret, and I still have two days left before the gauntlet is over. Oh, and these two men? They aren’t the only ones I had an intimate moment with today. I haven’t forgotten about my kiss with Grayson.

All I can think as I curl up against Miller’s side is that I am truly and thoroughly fucked.

23

Reagan

We’re in the process of cleaning up when Miller’s phone buzzes on the desk. He swipes the screen, frowns, and shoves it in his pocket. I pull the Wittmore sweatshirt over my head and notice the two guys share a look.

“What?” I ask, rolling up the sleeves. It’s Miller’s shirt. It’s too big, but soft, and smells like him. Something that has become more and more appealing.

“Royer is looking for me.” He tugs up the zipper on his hoodie. “We have some set up to do before the final gauntlet.” He looks me over. “Finish getting dressed. Knox is going to run interference.”

He grabs his shoes and stops in front of me to repin my number over my heart. “Be careful, okay?” he says, then to my shock, he kisses me on the cheek before walking out the door.

“What does he mean by interference?” I ask, ignoring the storm of butterflies in my stomach. The patch of skin Miller kissed is still tingling. I fuss with the pin, a reminder of how meticulous these men are all the time.

“Just play along,” he says, “and everything will be cool.”

I shove my feet in the shoes Miller brought up from the barn. My brain is mush—still reeling from the orgasm, the inclusion of Knox in this game, Miller confessing his feelings to me. I don’t trust anything, or anyone, and my body and mind know it.