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We both chuckle at his words.
“He’s not interested in me like that,” I say. “But I’m more than happy to be whatever he needs while he’s healing.”
Before Atlas can say anything else—a retort, perhaps—Shiloh bounds to the counter with a grin.
“We’ve played like four rounds without you. Time to catch up.”
He grabs one of Atlas’ wrists and one of mine and drags us back to the table.
“Atlas. Truth or dare?” Shiloh crosses his arms and stands on his tiptoes. If I didn’t know this place was entirely alcohol free, I might think he’s a little tipsy.
“Truth,” he says, and Shiloh blows a raspberry in response.
“Loser. Alright. So who bottoms between you and my brother?”
Blair sputters, choking on the soda he’s been sipping. “I really shouldn’t be surprised.”
Atlas doesn’t seem bothered, though, standing with his arms crossed and an amused smile.
“It varies. But if you’re asking for a preference…” He bites down on his lip and gives Blair a playful wink. “I like being beneath my Bumble Bee.”
Shiloh makes a gagging gesture, and both his best friend and brother burst out laughing.
“Alright. Alright. Shiloh. Truth or dare?” Atlas settles on the couch beside his boyfriend and gives his friend a wide grin.
“What? No. It’s Corvin’s turn.”
“Scared, Loh?”
Shiloh narrows his eyes and kicks at Atlas’ shin from his spot on the floor. “Fuck you. Dare.”
Atlas’ smile couldn’t be brighter.
“I dare you to give Corvin a lap dance.”
There’s a moment of hesitation as Shiloh looks from Atlas to me, but it’s covered by the heat I’ve seen growing since I took him inside me. A part of him that wants to take. That wants to open himself up to a deeper intimacy.
I want that, too.
He strides over, looking up at me with a fierce determination and motions toward the empty recliner.
Shiloh’s hands shake on my shoulders as he pushes me into the seat. Atlas and Blair are whispering over their phones—likely picking out music—but Shiloh is focused on me.
Warm pools of lust stare down at me, and that’s when I realize it isn’t fear or anxiety, but need that has his body on the fritz.
“Sweetheart,” I whisper and grab his wrists. “Where’s the fierce boy who fucked me?”
“He’s dying from trying not to ride you like a wild animal right now. What the hell have you done to me?”
He fits his knees beside my thighs on the cushion, and something with a deep, sultry beat plays from behind him.
“Unleashed your inner whore, but don’t lie; you love it as much as I do.”
His hips start up a slow roll, his breaths coming fast as he hovers above me. Our eyes lock, his hands leaving my shoulders to travel down my chest. My own clamp onto his thighs, giving him some leverage to move.
“So sexy,” I whisper while he lowers himself to my lap, grinding over my crotch in such a way that I have to squeeze his thighs to stop myself from bucking up to meet him.
This is supposed to be a fun dare not an exhibitionist dry hump session.
