Page 124 of Double or Nothing

Bryce still fucks me, but it’s slow now. His attention is all on Jack, mouth to mouth as they kiss like they were born to be. Just like we were.

Jack tangles his fingers in Bryce’s perfect hair, taking ownership without speaking a word. Bryce’s puffy wet lips can’t get enough of him. His moans are genuine as he seeks out more, and what a view I get of it. Their faces so close and personal.

It should feel strange, maybe, since I love Bryce so much I want to claim him as mine for all time. Their mutual passion feels like it should stir some jealous little spikes in me. But it doesn’t.

Instead, I feel my heart open in this impossible, aching way, because Bryce looks undone against Jack’s mouth. Released. Like every rule he has ever swallowed is being coaxed loose.

Jack kisses him like he’s making a point. It’s full of swagger and hunger at first, Jack’s silent arrogance setting the pace, until Bryce makes some small helpless sound against him and Jack softens. Just for a second. Just enough for me to see it. The crack in him. The care he dresses up as mischief.

I lie there in awe, feeling the room tilt and swirl around the three of us. Because this isn’t Jack taking something from me. It isn’t Bryce choosing someone else. It’s both of them succumbing to a different flavour, and that makes me want them more. Both of them. Together. Mine and not mine.

Ours, maybe, if any of us are ever brave enough to stop pretending this is only fun.

I can’t stop watching them. I don’t want to break the spell. Jack and Bryce together make a kind of sense that likely wouldn’t survive being spoken out loud. Bryce changes under Jack’s attention, as though Jack’s reckless confidence gives him permission to let himself go. Quiet, controlled power, slipping out from under Bryce’s polished restraint. And Jack sees it. Of course he does. Jack sees everything, even when he pretends he’s only playing.

That’s what fascinates me most.

The way his playboy grin falters for a heartbeat when Bryce looks back at him with a playing smile of his own. The way his teasing touch becomes careful. More meaningful.

Jack can put on the poker face all he likes, but I’m beginning to see deeper. Feel deeper. He doesn’t want to know the truth yet. I can see that. Jack Reid, the blond king of not giving a fuck, suddenly giving so many fucks he won’t be able to shove them back in the box of fakery, no matter how hard he tries. At least, I hope not. And Bryce, beautiful impossible Bryce, becoming more himself in response. Not less mine. Not more Jack’s. Just more Bryce. More alive. More certain. More dangerous.

Watching them together feels like watching two locked doors open from opposite sides, and God help me, I want to stand in between them. The conduit to two dicks claiming one prize.

Hell, I want to be that prize.

There’s something in watching Jack and Bryce together that makes me want to stop behaving. I want to be the dirty bitch of my fantasies. And then more fantasies. I want to work through the whole catalogue. I want to surrender to it. To them. To the wild, terrifying pull of wanting more than I’ve ever been allowed to want.

Bryce with all his careful edges turning sharper and stronger under Jack’s attention. Jack with that playboy smile slipping, just enough for something real to show through. And me, lying here in my own selfish hunger. Not just for touch, or danger, or one more night void from the rationale of consequences, but for a crazy, outlandish chemistry that belongs to me so completely no one can steal it away.

I want to see how far I can go.

I want to see how far we can go.

Jack is the dare, and Bryce is the ache, and I’m the reckless thing between them, ready at last to scream for freedom.

Soul Girl.

I am Soul Girl.

And my soul wants this.

Jack, Bryce, and a body stretched to the point of pain in order to take them both at the same time.

“Fuck me,” I say, my words loud enough to break their flow. “Come on, guys. Give me what you promised. Stretch me like a dirty bitch. Make me scream.”

“Impatient little minx,” Jack says, and lowers his mouth to mine instead.

I love tasting Bryce in his kiss. We alternate, the three of us, until our tongues are nothing but a messy, spit fuelled tangle.

Jack moves us out of missionary, guiding us into a new position. Bryce on his back with me on top, his cock still buried to the hilt in my pussy.

I take a deep breath as Jack eases me forwards and spreads my ass cheeks. My heart races, nervous as I hear the squelch of lube from behind.

Bryce smiles up at me. “You’re beautiful,” he says as he hooks his hands under my armpits.

I lean down into him, wrap my arms around his head and invite his mouth to my tits, and I moan as he sucks, starting just a little as Jack works two fingers into my ass.

I try to relax, and go with the flow. Not as performance. Not as rebellion dressed up for an audience. As truth. My truth.