Page 27 of Never Dance with the Devils
If you’d asked me a few years ago if I’d be fucking women with my best friend, I’d have punched you. Maddox probably would’ve laughed his ass off. I’ve never been one to share, and he’s definitely not the submissive type. But with us, there was never any issue. He has his style, I have mine, and with the right woman, we all enjoy ourselves immensely. Like we did with Kayla.
“And…?” she prompts, asking without asking.
“No sword play, if that’s what you want to know. We’re friends, brothers in a way, but when we’re fucking, it’s all about…” My voice drops, going rough. “Well, now it’s all about you.”
I lay my hand back on her thigh, teasing my pinkie finger under the hem of her dress. Maddox smiles warmly, agreeing with me as he does the same to her other leg, more roughly pulling her thighs another inch apart.
“Me.” She says it like she’s considering the meaning of the word on a deeper level. Like she can mentally play out all the possibilities, both good and bad, and I don’t know, maybe she can. She’s definitely smart enough to analyze this whole thing more than Maddox and I could. Or would want to. As different as we may be, we’re both ‘follow your gut’ types, more used to instincts than deep analysis.
Kayla, on the other hand, despite her spontaneous surrender to our night together previously, is a full-blown type-A strategist who I suspect can read people easier than most can read a picture book. So when she looks past us to the living room beyond and says, “I think I’d like that tour now,” it feels like the beginning of something amazing.
KAYLA
There’s no denying what I came here for. I made that decision before I ever texted Maddox, and nothing that’s happened tonight has made me second-guess that choice. They’ve been honest about their pasts and their reputations, deeply attentive as I told them things I haven’t shared with anyone but somehow felt comfortable revealing to them, and their little touches here and there have been building the desire in my core all evening. I have no doubt they’ll find me wet and ready for them.
Both of them. It’s still an insane idea, wrong on so many levels and breaking so many rules for someone like me, but I want it anyway. I want them desperately—Riggs’s sure touch and gentle stretch that make me feel worshiped and powerful, Maddox’s rough, take-charge attitude that fires me up while also demanding that I let go of control. I have dreamed of them, fantasized about them, and now, I’m with them again.
My mind’s on what’s to come—hopefully me, several times! So I don’t pay too much attention as they walk mearound the house. It’s a living room, there are couches. It’s a gym, there’s a treadmill and a huge weight training area with enough steel to make a small car. Granted, everything is gorgeous, with fancy finishes and designer-curated details, but all I notice is the hungry look on Maddox’s face and the dark intensity in Riggs’s eyes.
Until we stop. Riggs and Maddox seem hesitant for the first time.
“What?” I ask unsurely, glancing from one to the other.
“Hold on,” Maddox whispers out of the side of his mouth, his eyes unwavering from Riggs’s. “We’re deciding which room we’re going to, his or mine.” He lifts his brows, challenging his best friend, and I peer between them, insanely interested to see how they settle disagreements. The battle is silent, like they’re speaking telepathically, but I’ve seen this type of communication before—with my brothers. It’s a sign of closeness, of respect, of knowing the other as well as you know yourself, and it’s… sweet, a word I would never use to describe the two men in front of me.
“This way,” Riggs finally says, steering me down a hallway.
“Who won?” I whisper, taking his hand but also slipping my other one behind my back for Maddox to grasp, but I think I already know.
Honestly, I’m a bit surprised. Riggs, for all his self-ascribed asshole tendencies, seems more easygoing sexually, and I would’ve expected the bossy Maddox to demand that we go to his room instead.
“We all will,” Maddox assures me. “But we’re going to Riggs’s room. He’s desperate for you—needs you on his tongue, on his cock, in his bed.”
I think what Riggs needs is to know that what he told me about Eliza hasn’t changed what I think of him and his approach in the bedroom. That I don’t consider him some sort of monster who’d hurt me, especially when that couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s more caring than most, attentive to my responses, and takes his time, seeming to enjoy the foreplay as much as, if not more than, the actual act. I squeeze his hand reassuringly and press a tiny kiss to his shoulder blade, enjoying the way his breathing hitches slightly as he admits his desire silently.
“And you don’t need me?” I tease, glancing back over my shoulder to find Maddox staring at my ass, which I know looks fabulous in my custom-tailored dress thanks to my Pilates workout regimen. This ass should be admired… and kissed.
“I want to punish you for running out on us and making us all wait for what we want.”
Punish? Me?
Oh, hell no. That’s not the way I… fuck. That’s not the language I would typically use, even in my own mind. I prefer to think of myself as a bit classier than that. But I remember what we did in that hotel room, and I know what I want tonight, and it’s not lovemaking, nor is it sex. I want Riggs and Maddox to fuck me. I want to fuck them too.
So instead of telling Maddox that he will most definitelynotbe punishing me, I decide to play along. But merely to craft a more targeted response, I assure myself. “How do you intend to do that?”
“Goon you until you come so hard you make acomplete and utter mess of me, Riggs, his bed, and yourself. Smack your ass until it’s pink and hot and my hand stings when I grip your hips as I slam you down on my cock. Make you take Riggs first because while he’ll stretch that pretty pussy so good, I’m the one you need to be scared of tonight, Princess.” He says it all so matter-of-factly, like it’s all a foregone conclusion.
I should scoff or laugh at his audacity, but a shiver runs down my spine. Instead of some witty, sharp-tongued comeback, I find myself wanting all of that to the point that I’m nearly shoving Riggs down the hallway so he’ll get us there faster and not caring about Maddox’s arrogant smirk that says he knows his words turned me on.
The bedroom I’m led to is simple but dramatic, with black walls, white bedding, and cognac-colored accents. There are touches of green in several plants around the space, and I vaguely wonder if they’re real or fake. Still, for as classic as it is, I can tell that this is Riggs’s suite by how comfortable he is. In contrast, Maddox is looking around like he’s unfamiliar with the room.
Arching my brow, I taunt, “Been a while since you two have brought someone in here?”
Riggs whirls, blindly catching my jaw in his big hand and bringing my eyes to his as he presses his chest to mine, invading my space. He smells like the chocolate from dessert and sandalwood cologne. “You are the only woman to have ever been in our home, much less in our bedrooms. This is different for us too. You are different.”
My breath hitches, shock instantly freezing my whole body but sending my mind spinning. Could that be true? I’d been surprised when I pulled up to the address Maddox gave me, expecting a restaurant, not a house,but when I’d realized it was their home, I assumed this was how they kept things off the sports gossip grapevine. And I had asked for somewhere private. I thought they’d just been obliging my request.
But the look on Riggs’s face says that’s not the case at all. Inviting me here is as meaningful for them as it would be for me to invite someone to my home. In other words, it never happens. My home is my sanctuary, and no one comes there, other than for Girls’ Night In when it’s my turn to host. And even that requires a studious deep clean afterward because I need the space to feel like mine again. Is it ridiculous? Yes. But it’s how I am, how I’ve always been—protective of myself, my people, my world. So I understand the importance of what Riggs is saying.