“Gosh, B, I hadn’t noticed.”
He shoots me a glare. “Okay, fine. But remember the episode ofSeinfeldwhere George gets caught changing after he gets out of the pool?”
Sebastian snickers.
“I’m just saying,” B continues, lowering his voice. “There might be, you know, shrinkage.”
I lean over Seb, placing my hands on Brantley’s thighs. “We won’t judge you, babe. Just give us a good show.”
B flushes and nods, and I lean back and flick the radio knob on. The twang of Kenny Chesney’s “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy” assaults our ears, and I burst out laughing.
Brantley smirks and stands.
The tune is just starting, and as it ramps up, Brantley sways his hips. He seems self-conscious at first, his movements stiff and forced. Seb puts a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh. I smell citrus and whisky, and it mingles with the wild forest smells, propelling heat along my spine and straight to my pussy.
But that could also be the alcohol.
B’s movements become more languid as he tosses his coat and hat into the darkness. He prances around the fire, bobbing his head to the beat like he’s performing some sort of fucked-up redneck ritual. When he gets closer to us, he tears off his flannel shirt, followed quickly by this gray undershirt.
My breath hitches as I stare at Brantley Michaels. His nipples are rock hard, and the dancing firelight casts angular shadows across his bare torso, highlighting the hard ridges of his abs. Next to me, I hear Sebastian’s breaths quicken, but I can’t take my eyes off B.
B pinches his own nipple, and I swear I feel an answeringthrob in my clit. Then he slides his hands down his body, tracing the lines of his muscles. I swallow hard when he reaches his jeans. He pops the button free with a flick of his thumb and pulls down the zipper, the outline of his semi-hard cock obvious against the material of his boxers. His fingers dip into his underwear, and he fists himself with a smirk.
“Fuck,” I hear Seb mutter.
The over-the-top country music fades to a hum as I watch this beautiful man kick off his boots and shimmy his pants down his toned thighs, dropping them to the snow. He steps out of them, his hazel eyes a dark green in the flickering orange glow. Standing in nothing but his socks and boxers, B should look ridiculous. But he doesn’t. He’s sexy as fuck, and I lick my lips as he rubs his cock through his boxers. It’s not completely hard, but it’s also really cold out here, so I get it.
I don’t even notice when the music shifts into something more sensual. I finally glance at Seb. His eyes are dark and dilated, and while he looks conflicted, something feral also lurks in their blue depths. He squirms uncomfortably.
My panties are soaked. Between B dancing, Seb’s obvious interest, and the vodka, I’m beyond horny, my clit aching, sending ticklish heat through my thighs. I groan quietly because the urge to jump them both is overwhelming me. I don’t even know what’s holding me back at this point. Guilt? Fear? Soon, neither will be enough to stop the surge of hormones and emotional turmoil.
Our eyes lock as B hooks his thumbs around the sides of his boxers.
“Oh my God, he’s really going to do it,” Seb mutters.
B yanks them down, his dick swinging free and bobbing obscenely as he sways his hips and moves closer to us. He stops in front of me, his cock inches from my face. I can smell his musk and feel the heat radiating off his body. My fingers itch to touch the path of dark blond hair that trails down his stomachand around his balls. My breath coasts over his goose-pebbled skin, and his thick length twitches.
B reaches down, his fingers sliding under my chin and bringing my eyes back up to his. “If you’re done eye fucking me, can I put my clothes back on? It’s fucking freezing.”
“Technically, your socks are still on,” Seb says, and I glance at him with a smirk. His cheeks are flushed red and he’s trying to look everywhere but at the impressive dick in front of us.
When I nod, Brantley grabs his boxers and pulls them on while fast-walking to where his leather jacket landed. Then, he walks back over to the log, wedging himself next to Seb with a gentle sigh.
“That was cold.”
“That was—” Seb chokes on whatever he was going to say, and I still can’t get over this often gruff and grumpy man being so flustered.
“That was hot.” My blood’s still singing, and I’m not ready for it to stop. Without any thought about the consequences, I lean across Seb, placing my hand on his thigh, and cup B’s stubbled chin before I kiss him. It’s torturously languid, the way we savor each other’s lips, and it’s not until I hear Seb’s shaky breath between us that I pull away.
I stare at Brantley, my heart and body humming like they’re remembering an addiction that I’ll never recover from. I turn my gaze to Seb. His eyes are wide, and I can feel him tremble beneath my touch. He looks scared, but also incredibly turned on.
He licks his lips, and I tentatively run my fingers through his brown locks, my nails scraping at the soft hairs on his nape, and he closes his eyes and shudders.
“What are we doing?” he rasps.
“Having fun,” B murmurs.
“Do you think we should be—” Seb’s breath catches when B’s hand drops onto his other thigh, and I give B a wicked smile.Brantley and I were never polyamorous in college, but I can tell we’re on the same page when it comes to Sebastian. The real question is whetherSebwill be okay. I don’t even really know Seb’s orientation.
