Page 118 of Midnight Curfew

I falter, my stomach knotting.

He laughs, and she laughs, and they start making out with full force.

Lifting her into his arms, he stands up and kicks the door closed behind him, taking her to bed, no doubt.

My parents looked like that sometimes. Macon and Army were old enough to remember a lot more, but their love was strong. Too much passion, and it killed my mother, because she didn’t survive losing my father for long.

Drifting into the bathroom, I leave the light off and wet a washcloth. I’m glad Macon has her. I like seeing him happy.

Dabbing the cloth, I clean my scrapes myself.

—

Something tickles my chest, rising up my neck and landing on my lips. I jolt, opening my eyes. Callum hovers over me, my sheet covering my bottom half as I lie naked in bed. Glancing around, I notice Iron asleep on his stomach in his own bed, the ceiling fan rocking a little as it spins. Darkness looms out the window, but the gray sky tells me the sun is close to rising.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

He’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, but he smells fresh—soap and cologne—as if he just woke up, showered, and came over.

“Don’t kick me out.” His nose brushes mine as he stares at my mouth. “I’m thirsty.”

He dives down, and I plant my hands on his arms out of reflex, but once his mouth touches my neck, the fucking butterflies swarm my goddamn stomach. I love having my throat kissed.

“Fuck.” My eyes dart over to the next bed. “My brother is right there.”

“Is there another room?” Callum asks.

His lips trail down to my pec, biting and kissing. “No,” I reply.

“My car?”

My dick rises. “It’s too small.”

We did it in there yesterday. I want more room with him.

He climbs down, kissing and pulling down the sheet. He sucks me into his mouth, pleasure and heat washing over me, the hair on my head feeling like it’s being pulled from the inside. “Oh, my God,” I groan. “Don’t stop.”

He sucks long and slow, taking me as I grow, his wet mouth sucking, licking, and the tip of his tongue dragging slowly up my shaft. I cover my eyes, laughing a little, because I need to let something out. All the energy in my body gathers on the insides of my thighs, and I fist his hair.

“Y’all, get in the fucking shower,” Iron barks. “Jesus.”

Jerking my head, I see he’s still facing the window as Callum shakes with laughter he doesn’t let out.

“Sorry, man,” I gasp, jumping out of bed.

I wrap the sheet around me and push Callum out the door.

Once inside the bathroom, I lock the door and back him up against it. “What if I hadn’t been alone?” I ask him.

“Don’t threaten me.” He pulls his shirt over his head and comes for my mouth again. “I’m all you can handle.”

Sliding down my body, he takes me into his mouth again and I damn near fall into the damn door, trying to keep my legs under me.

“Yeah, you are,” I say, sliding my fingers through his hair.

But the locks feel different—longer. I blink, realizing my eyes were closed, and look down, seeing a red head bobbing up and down on my cock.

What the fuck?