Page 42 of Dreadful

Rafe makes a noise that raises the hair on my arms.

I pull back. My thighs lock around Rafe’s waist on instinct, both palms pressing flat against their shoulders—one each—like I can hold the two of them apart by sheer force of will.

Rafe’s gaze has moved to his brother. His jaw is tight, something dangerous and territorial moving just beneath the surface of his expression.

“Tell her you’re fine, brother. That you can pretend to be a civilized man for one afternoon and share her,” Gage says.

The command in his voice sends a fresh wave of heat straight through me. I didn’t expect it, but I should have.

Rafe’s fingers curl inside me, a slow, deliberate press against that spot that makes my vision blur at the edges. Pleasure sparks up from my toes, and my thighs tighten around his waist on instinct.

Boldness rises like a tide. I meet Rafe’s darkened gaze through my lashes as I let my hand drift from Gage’s shoulder, down the hard plane of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and slip beneath the waistband of his trunks. My fingers close around his length, hot and heavy in my palm.

Gage groans, low and rough, hips pushing into my touch.

Rafe’s response is immediate—his rhythm shifts, fingers driving deeper like he’s trying to reclaim my attention. But I don’t stop. I stroke Gage slowly, firmly, matching the pace Rafe sets inside me.

Gage’s forehead drops to my shoulder, lips brushing damp skin as he murmurs, “Fuck, Bell.”

Then Rafe’s mouth is on my neck, teeth grazing my collarbone.

Gage’s fingers hook under the edge of my bikini top, easing the fabric down until my breast is bare. Rafe watches for a heartbeat before bending, gripping the other side with his teeth and tugging until it shifts to the side.

My breath hitches at the hunger in their gazes.

“Fucking perfect,” Gage murmurs against my skin.

“Exquisite,” Rafe agrees, the word rough like gravel.

Then they move together like they’ve practiced this. Rafe shifts me just as he lowers his head, and Gage does the same, their mouths finding my nipples at the same moment. Gage swirls his tongue in slow circles while Rafe sucks with just enough pressure to make my back arch. My mind flashes to how their mouths would feel lower—licking and sucking and claiming me until I forget my own name.

“Oh, fuck.” My grip tightens on Gage’s cock.

He grunts his pleasure, his hips rocking into my hand. “Fuck, Bell, you work my cock so goddamn good.” His fingers replace his mouth as he claims my mouth once more.

Rafe’s teeth graze my nipple gently, making me gasp into Gage’s mouth. One of Rafe’s hands slides from my hip to my thigh, urging me to open wider for him.

“Don’t let me fall,” I murmur against Rafe’s shoulder as I lean back, slipping my hand into his boxer briefs. He’s hard and hot in my palm, and I stroke him slowly, matching the rhythm he’s setting with his mouth.

I feel wild and unmoored. Like I’m floating outside myself, feeling too much and not enough all at once. My head falls back against the pool’s edge, and when I roll it to the side, sunlight glints off something metallic. I shift, and the glare’s gone.

But Cruz is there, watching as he paces along the perimeter of the backyard.

Heat crawls over my body, like I’m being dipped into a pot of simmering water.

Gage murmurs praise into my shoulder when I twist my wrist just right.

Rafe moans quietly against my collarbone. “Baby.”

And still, I can’t tear my gaze from Cruz.

The only way this could be better is if he was in the water with us.

And Bishop, a little voice in my head whispers.

I imagine Bishop watching me with his perfect scowl and intense eyes, daring me to come. And my core clenches around Rafe’s fingers in response.

Gage makes a sound low in his throat, and his hips press once into my hand, then go still. “Christ,” he exhales into my hair.