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Rolling my eyes, I point out, “You hounding me for days to trade handies, then jerking me off at lightning speed so you could hurry up and get yours never really did it for me.”

Verity’s head snaps up, gaping between us. “Wait, you mean–you and Wicker?” And then, at our blank gazes, “Have youallhad sex together?”

I stroke the side of her tit, snorting. “It’s the occasional handjob, not the kama sutra. And no, I was never pretty enough for Lex’s freakish high school sexual experiment.”

She points at my brothers. “But you and Lex…” and Wicker gives Lex a cocky grin.

“Yeah, we fucked.” He jerks his chin upward, the arrogance rolling off him. “Best lay of his life.”

Lex shakes his head, unimpressed. “Not even remotely. You’re a selfish lover.”

With a confidence he hasn’t earned, Wicker decides. “Nah, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.” Verity and I say the words at the same time, with varying degrees of grievance, and it makes my cock swell.

I know she feels it when she squirms, her face red as a tomato. “Did I hear something about us having permission?” She looks at the bottle of champagne hopefully.

“Us, yes. You?” Wicker snorts. “Not a fucking chance.”

Her face falls. “Oh.”

Lex clears his throat. “You already had permission for the chocolate bar.” After a beat, he raises his gaze to hers. “It was good?”

Nodding, she says, “Yes,” and a little more stiffly, “thank you,” shivering when I toy with a wet lock of her hair, a drop of water falling on the swell of her tit.

The whole thing had been kind of dirty, if you ask me. No way Wicker or I can compete with a sanctioned breaking of the rules.

But we can indulge in our own.

Lurching forward, I snag the bottle of champagne, tipping it up to take a mouthful. I hold it on my tongue, fizzy and warm, and then nudge a bruised knuckle beneath her chin, tipping her face up to mine.

Her brows crash together when I thumb at her lips, but then her eyes flick down to my mouth, comprehension overtaking her features. It’s not as bright as I was expecting, a dullness filling her eyes as she realizes this is the only way she can have this.

When she parts her lips, opening her mouth to me, I get the feeling it’s a sacrifice she’s not too happy about.

But when I spit the champagne into her mouth, she takes it.

Her throat bobs with a swallow.

“Pace,” Lex says in his low, reprimanding tone.

But I’m already diving down to lick the taste of it off her tongue. Setting the bottle down blindly, I reach up to cup her tit in my palm, just to feel the weight of it–the soft warmth. The kiss tastes like bubbles and submission, and even though the man inside of me wants to push deeper, harder, I keep it light and slick, pulling away with a wet sound.

To Lex, I shrug. “She didn’t drink it, technically.”

Wicker’s already stroking his cock through his pants, eyes flashing excitedly as he snags the bottle. “Come on, Red. Want some more?”

Her eyes are still a little glazed from the kiss, and when she turns them to my brother–currently filling his mouth with champagne–they tighten at the corners. For a second, it seems like she wants to tell him no.

She rises from my lap instead.

I wonder what it is that makes her shoulders square when she approaches him, perching stiffly on his knee. Does she really want it that bad? To be Princess? To give birth to the next heir?

Why the fuck would she?

I don’t wonder for too long, because I’m too busy watching Wicker unfasten his jeans, pulling his cock out as Verity waits patiently. He grabs her hand and guides it to cup his hardness, and she does it blindly, like she’s afraid to look at it.

He grunts, eyes going heavy as he beckons her close, putting his lips to hers. He doesn’t spit it into her mouth so much as he pushes it, sending a stream of the champagne down their chins as he kisses her, sloppy and slow.