Page 124 of Push My Buttons

I arch my back slightly, letting my fingers trail lower. "For you, ObsidianWolf," I murmur, knowing exactly how my words will affect Jace. "And you too, NeedleAndVice. Such generous supporters deserve a special reward."

Theo's grin widens as he types something into his phone. A moment later, his message appears in the chat:

NeedleAndVice has tipped $500: Take something off. Slowly.

I laugh, the sound deliberately sensual. "So impatient tonight."

Jace's contribution follows immediately:

ObsidianWolf has tipped $700: Show us what's underneath

The bidding war between them is as amusing as it is arousing. They've turned this into a competition, each trying to outdo the other with increasingly generous tips and more explicit requests. The other users in the chat have no idea they're watching two men fight for the attention of a woman they already share.

I reach for the clasp of my bra, making a show of slowly unhooking it. "Since you asked so nicely..."

As I continue my performance, I reflect on how much has changed in just a few months. The woman I was before—silent, frightened, trapped in her own mind—seems like a stranger to me now. I've reclaimed my voice, my body, my life.

The fear hasn't completely disappeared. I still wake sometimes from nightmares where Levi's hands are around my throat. I still check locks twice, still startle at unexpected sounds. But the difference is that now, I don't face those fears alone.

And sometimes, when I'm alone on the balcony late at night, I could swear I feel someone watching—not with Levi's possessive hunger, but with my brother's protective vigilance. I haven't seen Lucien since that night, but I know he's out there.

I should be terrified by that knowledge, but instead, it brings a strange comfort. My brother is a monster, yes—but he's my monster. And in this world of wolves and predators, sometimes you need a monster on your side.

For now, though, I focus on the present moment—on the candlelight dancing across my skin, on the appreciative comments filling the chat, on Jace and Theo watching me from across the room. Jace's hand has slipped beneath the waistband of his joggers, his movements subtle but unmistakable. Theo'spalm rubs slow circles over the growing bulge in his jeans, his eyes never leaving mine.

I slide the bra straps down my shoulders slowly. Theo's breath catches audibly; Jace's hand stills momentarily before resuming its rhythm. This is power. This is freedom. This is reclamation.

And as I let the garment fall away completely, I'm struck by a simple truth: happiness can find you in the strangest of places. Sometimes it takes breaking apart completely to discover who you truly are—and who will love you, not despite your broken pieces, but because of how beautifully you've put yourself back together.

I blow a kiss to the camera, knowing it's really meant for the two men whose breathing has grown heavier, whose movements have become more urgent. "Now," I purr, "who wants to see what comes next?"

Their simultaneous tips make me laugh—a genuine sound of joy that no amount of voice modulation can disguise. Theo groans softly in response, while Jace bites his lower lip.

This is my life now—complicated, unconventional, and absolutely mine.

The End