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Verity might not be his dick’s biggest fan, but she sure kisses him back like she wants to be. Her fingers tangle in the back of his hair, hips giving the smallest little writhe as their tongues tangle. If everyone in this room knows Wicker’s a selfish lover, then we also all know that he’s a fucking fantastic kisser. The complete opposite of how he is in bed. Unhurried and full of slow-simmering heat. He kisses our girl like he’s trying to make her knees give out.

If she were standing, I’m pretty sure they would.

She pulls away first, licking the taste of champagne off her lips.

“What do you say?” Wicker asks, pushing her palm down harder on his cock.

Nudging her wrist against her chin, she mutters, “Thank you.” Almost imperceptibly, her eyes dart toward Lex.

Sitting on the bench, he’s leaning back against a locker, watching them a lot like I am, eyes dark and hungry. He’s just better at hiding it. Usually.

Tonight, he strains over the space between him and Wicker to grab the neck of the bottle, settling back with slow, dangerous intensity. Verity stares at the bottle in his hand, and then into his eyes, a question lingering there.

Wicker sighs, giving her a small push. “Go on. We still have ten minutes before I can do anything about this.”

She still looks unsure when she approaches Lex, her perky ass pointed right at me as she shifts, waiting for his signal. He gives it with a flick of his eyes downward, saying in a gruff voice, “Kneel.”

I don’t see her expression as she obeys, but I see Lex’s as he takes a long pull from the bottle. He pitches forward as she kneels between his knees. Wicker divests him of the bottle instantly, freeing up Lex’s hand to reach out, fingers knitting through the hair at the base of her skull as he guides her head back.

I see the hinge of her jaw shift as she opens wide for him, and Lex stares for a suspended moment, the fingers in her hair moving, massaging.

Then he lets it go.

The champagne streams from his mouth into hers. In the middle of it, he uses his other hand to cradle her cheek, the gesture weirdly tender considering the context.

Wicker and I share a dazed look.

I can’t remember the last time Lex has intentionally participated in one of our bullshit rule loopholes.

When the stream of booze ends, Lex holds her there, sliding a thumb through her lips. “Missed some,” he says, the sound ragged and low. “Stand up.” As soon as she rises, standing between Lex’s knees, his tongue sweeps a path from her belly button to the valley between her breasts.

“Fuck yes,” Wicker says as Lex grabs her tits, squeezing them together around his face. He watches them as he strokes his cock, the head dripping already. “Get her ready for me. Shit, I’m about to blow.”

It’s unnecessary. Lex’s fingers are already pushing between her legs. I can see them when she gasps, hastily shifting her feet to make room. She wobbles, grabbing onto his shoulders, and I can’t help but reach out, sweeping a palm down the curve of her ass, spreading it.

My eyes lock in just as Lex slides two thick fingers into her cunt.

“Oh god,” she whines, hips rocking.

Maybe the Princess missed getting fucked this week as much as we missed fucking her.

“Wick,” Lex says, voice raw and torn as he pulls his fingers out, glistening. “Time?”

“Two minutes.”

Wetting my fingers between her legs, I pull her cheeks wider and spread the slickness across her hole. She surges forward, crashing into Lex. “Let him touch you,” he tells her. “Don’t fight it.”

I push a finger in, easing past the tight, puckered muscle of her ass. She cries out. In pain or pleasure, I don’t care.

“Need a little lube?” Wick asks, tipping the bottle of champagne to dribble the liquid between her cheeks. The fluid provides a little moisture and I push in deeper, spreading my fingers to loosen her up.

“How’s that feel, Rosilocks? Think you can take a little more?”

She pants, resting her forehead on Lex’s shoulder. “It’s too much.”

“One day I’m gonna fill you with my cock, and you need to be ready.” I grab the bottle from Wicker and drain the contents. I tell Wick, “Hold her open.”

Verity looks over her shoulder, eyes wide. “What? No. I can’t–”