Page 102 of Unleashed By Eden

“You’re not wrong,” James deadpans.

Vi sips her wine, eyes glittering with trouble. “Good. Keeps you humble.”

I lean closer, drop my voice so it’s just for her. “You know what else keeps me humble?”

“What?” she breathes

“Your mouth around my cock.”

Her lips part, and the table fades out around us.

Dameon clears his throat pointedly. “I vote we relocate to the water before Carter fucks Violet on the pesto.”

I’m not arguing.

I steal a kiss, catching Vi’s bottom lip between my teeth before I let go. She tastes like pinot noir and trouble. Best drink I’ve had in months.

James pushes up, grabs the expensive whiskey he brought from Australia and a stack of glasses. “Come on, degenerates. I want to get my dick wet before Cora goes into labor.”

Cora rolls her eyes.

I lace my fingers with Vi’s and lead her down the stone steps to the lake. The night air carries the freshwater scent. Down by the water’s edge, a row of padded loungers and low chairs sits facing the lake, lanterns flickering on small tables between them. It’s quiet here, removed from the hotel staff clearing the dinner table, only the sound of the water brushing the rocks and the hum of crickets.

“On your knees, ladies,” James orders as he splashes whiskey into three glasses. He passes one to Dameon, one to Zac, then holds a glass out to me.

I shake my head.

“Still off it,” I say simply. “Liver’s on strike.”

He pauses. “You sure?”

Fuck, I want it. I haven’t itched for a drink this bad since the start of the tour. My family here, the lake spread out in front of us, Violet about to kneel at my feet—this is exactly the kind of moment a good whiskey was made for.

I don’t take it.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m good.”

I’ve finally got something I don’t want to wreck.

I pull my smokes from my back pocket and drop onto one of the loungers. Vi sinks down in front of me, knees pressing into the warm stone. From the corner of my eye, I see the others doing the same dance—Chloe in front of Zac, Hailee in front of Dameon, Cora settling carefully in front of James on a cushion, with his help.

I light up, squint through the smoke as Vi unbuttons my jeans and frees me. Her fingers curl around my base, and then her mouth is on me, sliding down as far as she can manage in one go.

She can’t take all of me from this angle, not with the metal and without wrecking her throat, but every glide of her mouth has my vision going static. She pulls back and sticks the tip of her tongue into my piercings at the head and moves them around. I groan and rest my head back, letting my hand with the cigarette drop onto the armrest.

“Fuck, Storm,” I rasp. “That tongue.”

Her other hand cups my balls, and with the right amount of pull, precum beads at the tip. I rake my thumb across my eyebrow, cigarette trapped between my fingers, and look down just in time to see her trying to take more. She gags, pulls off, saliva stringing between us, then goes back in.

Around us, it’s all wet sounds—sucks, gasps, a choke here and there. I look sideways and, yeah, it’s a fucking sight. Three men I love, the women they’d go to war for, all of them on their knees, hair grabbed, cheeks hollowed.

“We’re lucky bastards,” I say in a low rumble.

Because that’s the truth of it. Being right here, right now, with them, with her—it doesn’t get better than this. This right here is worth living for. Worth getting my shit together for. And now that I’ve had a taste, I’m going to fight for it with everything I’ve got to keep it.

“Damn straight,” Zac grunts.

I take another drag, blow it high into the night, and try to sear this moment into my brain. I slide my free hand to the back of Vi’s head, guide her into the rhythm I need.