Page 44 of Seven Lost Summers (Broken Oasis #3)

Theo

T

he

hall

seems

longer

than normal.

I can smell her on my skin as I carry her toward my room because if I’m gonna fuck her, it’s not happening on some random couch or someone else’s bed. It’s going to be in my room so I will never forget it.

Nate and I never bring chicks here.

That’s the rule. No groupies. No randoms. This is our house. Private. But Quinn isn’t some girl I picked out of the crowd with smeared lipstick and fake moans. She’s… more. I don’t know what the fuck that means yet. All I know is she belongs in my bed.

But my mind isn’t on her right now. It’s on Nate trailing behind us. On the words I let slip as if they weren’t a fucking bomb waiting to go off.

I can still hear my own voice in my head, telling him how fucking hot he looked eating her pussy.

I’ve never said anything like that before, never crossed that fucking line.

We’ve been shoulder to shoulder for years, toeing the edge, dancing around it without ever stepping over.

The moment I saw him between Quinn’s legs, his mouth wet, his jaw working like he was trying to wreck her with his tongue alone, the words ripped out of me.

Because he looked fucking unreal. The focus in his eyes, the hunger bleeding through every move he made. It wasn’t Nate getting off on some girl. It was him, stripped down to the bone, giving himself to her completely. And it destroyed me.

Now my chest’s tight for a different reason, because I don’t know what the fuck that means for us.

Does it change anything… or does it change everything?

When I turn my head, Nate’s there.

His face is still wet with her, his lips slick and parted, and something tears through my chest so hard it almost hurts. His eyes are locked, burning with a hunger I’ve never seen in him. Not even with Bianca.

What we had with her was young love.

Full of firsts and maybes. But this… carries more weight. A need etched into bone, older than lust and deeper than want. I don’t know if I’m ready for what that means… for him, for me, for whatever the fuck this is turning into.

I turn back around and lower my head, letting my lips brush over her forehead. “Still with us, baby? Or did Nate’s tongue already fuck your brains out?”

She hums something soft, a little broken sound that vibrates against my chest, and the sound makes me smile.

My shoulder hits the door.

The lights flicker on like always. It’s always like that. They stay on. Even when I fucking sleep.

Darkness is a trap. A trick. A setup for shit you can’t see coming.

I can’t risk the dark, not anymore.

Not when it still smells of dust and fear and my own breath trapped in my chest.

Not when I can still hear the floorboards groan under his boots, sense the weight of the silence before he’d start shouting my name.

I hid under beds. Cramped myself into closets so tight my ribs ached. Held still, held my breath, and waited to find out if tonight was the night I became a goddamn bargaining chip for whatever debt he owed.

Every time I hear a door slam, a voice raise, my stomach still knots the same way it did back in those days. Those scars don’t fade. They linger under your skin, waiting to be ripped open.

I lay Quinn down on the bed, her back sinking into the mattress, her light brown hair spilling over the dark sheets in a messy halo.

I step back for a second, because fuck, I need to see her. All of her.

My eyes drag slowly over her body, tracing every inch. Her tits rise and fall with each shaky breath, nipples tight and begging to be in someone’s mouth. Her stomach’s flushed, her skin glowing with heat, every curve screaming to be touched, begging for hands to grip and mark.

Nate steps up beside me, and I sense him staring too, carrying that same silent hunger.

Together, we stand there and fucking look at her.

She’s fucking beautiful spread out this way, every part of her needing to be touched, kissed, and fucked.

She shifts slightly, her thighs edging together as if she’s trying to hide the one thing we want most.

“Nah,” I rasp. “Keep them open, Quinn. Let us fucking look at that perfect pussy. Let us see exactly what we’re about to ruin.”

And that’s the moment I notice it—the shift, the flicker in her eyes, the insecurity.

She was never like this before.

Quinn Thomas was the girl who’d flip you off before you even opened your mouth.

The one who walked through high school without giving a single fuck what anyone thought.

The girl who never treated me as some broken asshole.

Who saw through all the bullshit and never once judged me or turned away. She was my friend. Always beautiful.

And now… her laying here, naked and open, and somewhere along the line, some fuckhead made her doubt herself.

Rage surges hot in my chest but I force it down. Whoever did this to her… whoever made her question her worth should have their face smashed into a fucking wall until there’s nothing left.

I drop to my knees at the edge of the bed, hands sliding slow up her thighs, every tremor under my palms sinking into my skin.

“You have no idea how fucking beautiful you look right now.”

“He’s right,” Nate says beside me. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Q.”

And I wonder if he sees it too.

The cracks she never had before. The shadows that weren’t there when we were crazy teens. The way some asshole left fingerprints on her confidence and made her forget what she is.

She swallows hard, lips parting slightly, chest rising as though she’s trying to hold herself together.

I lean in, dragging my mouth along her skin. The scent of her arousal wraps around my head and sinks into my blood. It’s a drug. One hit and I’m fucking gone.

“Fuck,” I whisper, more confession than sound. “I want to fucking devour you.”

She moans, the sound spilling from her lips before she can bite it back.

That helpless little slip shreds the last of my control.

Nate steps in closer and peels his shirt over his head.

His jeans follow, hitting the floor in one smooth motion, and when he straightens, he’s completely naked.

His cock stands thick and hard, veins tracing along the shaft, pre-cum beading at the swollen tip, taunting me with the thought of how it would taste on my tongue.

He’s fucking beautiful.

All hard muscle and heat, jaw tight like he’s holding back more than a groan. And for a second, I forget everything else.

I’ve seen him with groupies. We’ve done this before. Shared bodies, sweat, moans, fucked until we’re exhausted, a hundred times over until it became habit. But this… this is a live wire under my skin.

Because I’ve pictured this a hundred times.

Too many fucking nights when the house was quiet, my hand wrapped around my cock while I thought about all the things I’ll never say out loud.

It isn’t some faceless girl in those thoughts. It isn’t her moaning or crying out. It’s him. It’s Nate.

Naked. Flushed. That cock thick and leaking, aching for a hand that isn’t his.

I can almost feel him—his hard cock filling my palm, my fingers wrapped tight around him, my thumb dragging over the slick head. The twitch in his hips when I squeeze too hard and he can’t hold the sound back.

Fuck, I want to see him unravel in my grip. Not for her. Not for anyone else. For me.

I bet his voice changes when it’s me.

Bet it drops low, goes rough, gets desperate when I twist my wrist and find that perfect rhythm.

I want to stroke him slow, then faster, until the sound spills from his throat, something raw and needy he’s never let me hear.

I want to drag him over the edge, watch the tension ripple through his abs, watch his thighs lock, that split second of stillness right before he spills hot and messy over my hand.

His mouth open, his eyes locked on mine, every filthy, fucked-up second screaming all the things we’ve never been brave enough to say out loud.

My gaze shifts, and Quinn is staring at me.

Fuck.

Did she catch it?

The way I couldn’t stop watching Nate, my eyes locked on his cock like I wanted to wrap my mouth around him and take every inch?

Shit. My throat goes bone-dry, pulse pounding hard enough to rattle my ribs.

Nate’s hands close on her, his grip so firm it pulls a gasp from her chest. He drags her across the sheets in one rough, greedy pull until she’s right at the edge of the bed.

Her head drops back over the side, hair spilling wild toward the floor, throat arching into a perfect line.

I crawl up onto the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight as I slide between her legs. My hands grip her thighs, spreading her wide. I lower my head, ready to bury my tongue in her, to taste every filthy drop she’s got for me—but my eyes suddenly snap to Nate.

He stands over her, cock thick and hard, pre-cum sliding down the flushed head. His fist wraps around the base, stroking once, as his eyes lock on her mouth and the curve of her throat stretched bare beneath him.

I lean in and drag my tongue over her clit, soft at first, harder the next pass, slow enough to savor the first hit of her on my tongue.

Fuck.

It’s instant, hot and sweet all at once. A low groan rips from my throat, vibrating against her pussy as I press in deeper, tasting her like I’ve been starving for it.

Her hips jerk in my grip, a desperate little twitch that makes my fingers tighten around her thighs. I go again, dragging my tongue over that swollen bud, firmer this time, and she gasps, the sound spilling into the air as Nate watches, stroking his cock.

He leans over her, the head of his cock brushing her lips, smearing himself across her mouth.

“Open,” he growls. “Open that mouth and let me fuck it.”

Quinn whimpers, lips parting, her breath hitching against the tip of his cock.

I shift my eyes to Nate as he lines himself up.

My tongue flicks against her clit again, and the second that desperate moan rips out of her, I feel it everywhere.