Page 115 of What We Bury

“You absolutely do not.”

A muffled laugh escapes through her fingers. Good. Good. Keep it light. Keep her breathing. Meanwhile my cock is trying to kick its way through the table at the image her words just dumped into my head.

All of us.

Jesus Christ.

Sage on a bed. On her knees. On her back. Sprawled between all five of us while we pass her from cock to cock like—I have to clamp my teeth together before the rest of that thought gets any further and I start visibly malfunctioning.

“Breathe,” I say, placing my palms flat on the table.

“I am breathing,” she mutters, lowering her hands.

“No.Me, kitten. I need to breathe.”

“Oh. I should have gathered that from the hostage-negotiator hands,” she says, eyeing where I’ve braced myself against the table like it’s the only thing keeping me from launching across it.

“I call these my support hands.”

She laughs again and I let myself enjoy it for half a second before business reasserts itself in my pants.

I reach for my wine. Miss it. Try again. “Okay. Ground rules.”

“For what?”

“For this conversation, you terrifying woman.” I point at her. “One, you do not get embarrassed and run away. Two, I’m going to be weird about this because I’m weird about everything. Three, if I say anything that makes you feel cornered, you throw bread at my face and I recalibrate.”

She studies me. Color all over her cheeks, but she doesn’t fold.

“Ground rules accepted.”

“Excellent.” I inhale through my nose and decide honesty is the least stupid move available. “That means I can say I’m very, very interested in your idea and trying not to picture it so hard I black out.”

Her eyes go wide. “Milo.”

“What? Honesty hour.” I spread my hands. “You said it. I’m respecting your vulnerability by admitting mine is currently pitching a tent.”

She makes a strangled sound that turns into a laugh. “I cannot believe I admitted it out loud.”

“I can. Barely. But I can.” I lean forward, dropping some of the teasing. “And for the record? There’s chemistry all over this thing, kitten. Not just between you and each of us separately. Between all of usaroundyou. It’s weird. It’s inconvenient. It’s hot as absolute fuck. And nobody is exactly thrilled to be handling it like an adult.”

She picks at her garlic knot, processing. I let her.

“So none of you have ever—” she gestures vaguely with the bread, “—done anything like this before. Together.”

“Group sex? Never.”

She huffs a laugh. “Good to know. I meant the dynamic. How would it even work? Would you all hate each other a little? Love each other? What’s the family situation here?”

“We’re brothers. With knives. And trust issues.” I shrug. “Knox and Eli have known each other since high school, so there’s a marrow-deep thing nobody else gets to touch. Holden’s the eldest-son energy—keeps us tactical, keeps us alive, would die before he admitted he liked any of us.” My phone buzzes and I shift to the side, pulling it out of my pocket. “Oh! Speak of the devil. Holden just texted me.”

I stare at the screen.

Holden:

fuck you, Milo

“A not very nice comment.” I tap out a response and hit send.