Page 70 of Theirs for the Holidays

I moan his name again, biting down on my lip hard.

I’m already feeling hot and turned on, and then his hand starts moving. He slides it under my dress, and judging from the chuckle he breathes out against my ear, he’s found out how wet I already am.

“I see you like this,” he teases. His finger presses against my clit through my panties, and the drag of the fabric against that sensitive bud is enough to have my knees buckling just a little.

I’m panting, every touch getting me even hotter for him.

“You’re so wet,” he groans. “I like that. I like being able to feel what I’m doing to you. What we’re doing to you.”

He includes his brothers in this with that amendment, and I look at the two of them as they watch us. Both of them have hunger in their eyes, and there’s no mistaking it.

My cheeks flood with color, but I don’t want to stop. Not now when it’s getting even better.

“You like having them watch you like this, don’t you?” Sawyer asks.

I groan, fidgeting in his hold. But he doesn’t let me get away with that. Of course he doesn’t. He slips his fingers under my panties, touching my clit with nothing between it and his fingers. That startles a gasp out of me as heat pools between my legs and spreads.

“I asked you a question, Peaches.” Sawyer keeps teasing, not giving me a second to breathe. He rubs circles around my clit, making me whimper softly. “You like it, don’t you?”

I nod, unable to find the right words to say, but also unable to deny the truth. Like anyone would believe me if I tried to pretend otherwise.

He chuckles again, clearly pleased by the honesty. “Good. Because I know they like watching you. Just like I do. How could we not, when you’re so fucking gorgeous like this?”

I tip my head back, resting it against his shoulder. It’s a good thing he’s holding on to me, or I think my legs really would give out. He makes it worse by pressing a finger into me, and my hot, wet channel stretches to fit him. When I start bucking my hips into it, he adds a second finger, fucking me with slow, shallow strokes of his fingers that have me digging my fingers into his arm with need.

Clearly, the other two can’t just watch and not touch, and I wouldn’t want them to. Not when it feels so good to have them touching me. They move in closer, reaching out to run their hands over my body.

It’s so much.

That’s the thought that keeps running through my head.

It’s so fucking much.

There are hands everywhere, ghosting over my curves, smoothing my hair back, touching my face, and I can’t keep track of which one of them is touching me where. Except for Sawyer, fucking his fingers into me again and again, working me up even more until I feel like I’m strung so tightly.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Rhett murmurs. His hands move over my breasts, cupping and teasing them. “You look so good just letting us have our way with you.”

Lennox snorts, but nods in agreement. “He’s right. You’re right where you’re supposed to be.”

“Between the three of us, about to have your brain turned off by how good we’re going to make you feel,” Sawyer says.

All I can do is moan in response. I’m already most of the way there. I don’t know which one of them to lean into, which one of them to chase for more sensation, so I give up trying to figure it out and just let them do what they want. It’s the easiest, most pleasurable solution, clearly.

They rise to the challenge beautifully between themselves, until I’m nearly trembling from how turned on I am.

“I can hear how wet you are,” Lennox says. “Is Sawyer doing a good job?”

“What kind of question is that?” Sawyer fires back. His fingers press in deeper, and I cry out. “Does it sound like I’m doing a bad job?”

Lennox shrugs. “She’s sensitive. Maybe you’re just capitalizing on that.”

“Sheissensitive,” Rhett agrees. “But she likes it when she can really feel it.” He pinches my nipple hard, and I arch with pleasure. “See?”

Following that cue, Lennox reaches back and slaps my ass, the sound echoing in the kitchen.

I’m a mess by this point, dripping around Sawyer’s fingers and soaking his hand. My hips grind desperately against it,trying to find enough friction to tip me over into the boiling sensation that’s building up.

“Beautiful,” Sawyer says. “She’s so beautiful when she lets herself go.”