Page 89 of Snowed In with Benefits

“Take my clothes off.” I slide her pants and panties down over her feet. The twins take her top and bra off. “Kiss my breasts,” she demands.

They do. There isn’t room for three heads on her chest or I’d be joining them. She looks me in my eyes while they kiss and suckle on her, the doubt burning away in a kiln of desire.

“Stop,” she says. They stop, standing up. She’s breathing so hard, harder than our attention accounts for. She’s building up to something, I can feel it. I’m silently begging her to go for it, to really tell us everything she wants.

“Get on your knees for me?”

We all drop to our knees in a heartbeat. The floor is hard under me. I don’t care. I’ve knelt to fix things my whole life—floorboards, fence posts, the underside of the truck. Always kneeling to repair something broken. This isn’t that. This is kneeling to build something. I’m giving her the floor she’s standing on. I’m making it solid under her feet so she can stand as tall as she needs to.

She stands there and something shifts in her expression. There’s a touch of awe, a touch of power, and a whole lot of arousal. She’s not biting her lip now. Instead, her tongue darts out to wet those full lips as they part slightly.

“Make me come.”

I’m exactly where I need to be. I put my mouth on her and I’m torn. I want to treasure her. I want to take my time savoring her flavor. But I also want to wreck her with my tongue. She tastes incredible. The sounds she’s making, those breathless little gasps and throaty little moans, are driving me crazy.

“Hunter, play with my nipples,” she demands. I plunge my tongue deeper into her, lapping her up. She groans.

“Beau,” she gasps. “Pull my hair. Bite my neck.”

She’s done asking. She’s commanding now, each demand coming faster and bolder than the last. All three of us are doing exactly what she says. She’s riding high on the power.

“Emmett, suck my clit. Finger me.”

I do as she says and her legs start to shake. My fingers are working inside her, her clit is quivering and erect against my tongue. Her hand fists in my hair.

“Fuck! I’m coming,” she gasps, then she does. She clenches around me over and over again. Her clit pulses against my lips. She’s coming hard, grinding against my tongue. Her legs are shaking too much. As soon as she crests that wave, her knees buckle.

I catch her before she falls.

34

JOSIE

Emmett is all around me, keeping me from hitting the floor. I’m buzzing in the aftermath of my orgasm, but there’s more to it than that. I’m buzzing with power and freedom, and I don’t want to stop. I want more.

I look down at Emmett, up at the twins, and I know that I’m still in charge. Still in control. I find my feet and Emmett backs away, looking at me for direction. They’re all achingly hard, pressing against their jeans. I want them to release. I want to do it my way.

There’s a version of this where I let them take over. Where I curl into Emmett’s chest and let the three of them decide what happens next, the way they did the first time, the way they always do—reading each other, passing me between them like something precious and fragile. And it would be good. It would be so good. But that’s not what I need tonight. Tonight I need to be the one who decides. Not because they can’t. Because I can. Because the girl who stood in that barn and almost let Preston rearrange her back into his version of acceptable needs to feel her own hands on the wheel. She needs to steer.

I look at the three of them, waiting for me, and I feel something settle in my chest like a key turning in a lock. Not anger. Not revenge. Permission. My own permission, given to myself, to want exactly what I want and take it without apology.

“Strip,” I tell Emmett. “Lie down by the fire with your hands over your head.”

He immediately complies and that rush of power is back.

“Beau, Hunter… tie his hands to the grate.”

It’s a good solid grate, wrought iron half-buried in cement. Beau and Hunter exchange a heated look before doing what they’re told, using their belts to bind Emmett’s hands together and then to the grate.

“Done,” Hunter says.

Emmett tests that. He tugs on the straps once and can’t get free. He smirks up at me, obviously enjoying himself. He and I are the only naked people in the cabin right now, and there’s no jealousy to be found, but the envy is practically palpable. I wink at Emmett then turn to Beau.

“Strip,” I tell him, my voice low in my throat.

He takes his shirt off and I run my hands over the tattoos on his chest. His belt is already gone. He unzips his jeans, letting his girth pop free before he’s even gotten his pants down over his hips. I run my fingers around the elastic waistband of his boxers, briefly touching the head of his cock with my fingertip. He’s already slick with precum.

He gets his pants and boxers off in a hurry and stands there, still playing Emmett’s version of Simon Says. He’s breathing hard, his eyes are on fire, and I can see his hands trembling. He wants to touch me. I know it as well as I know myself, and I’m getting a lot better at knowing myself.