Page 92 of What We Burn

I take the stairs first. Her room is quiet, the bed made. I switch on the lamp—just enough light to see by.

She comes through the door and stops in the middle of the room, and she looks at all of us—five men filling the space and the air and the quiet—and I watch her shoulders drop, her chin coming up.

“I don’t want any of you telling me this is too soon,” she says. “It’s been five weeks. I’m healed. And tonight, I want this. I want all of you.”

“Anything you want, Fury.” I keep my voice low. “Tell us and it’s yours.”

“Why don’t you tell me?” she says, her eyes glinting as she meets my gaze.

“How?”

“Your way. I trust you.”

My dick strains against my zipper. She’s put the whole room in my hands.

“Well, Knoxie?” she coos, backing toward the bed. “What are you going to do with all of us?”

I look around the room. “Everybody into this?” I don’t take this kind of responsibility lightly. I never have.

A chorus of fuck yes answers me. Then I’m moving.

I hook two fingers in Fury’s scarf and tug her gently to me until she’s standing between my boots, looking up. Her pulse jumps in her throat. I slide the scarf free and toss it onto the dresser.

“Eli,” I say.

He goes still. “Yeah?”

“Chair. Against the wall. You watch. You don’t touch her, and you don’t touch yourself. Not until she says.”

He doesn’t argue. Just drags the chair over, sits, and plants his palms on his thighs like he’s already fighting the urge to move.

I turn to Fury. “Strip.”

She keeps her eyes on mine while she peels everything off, slow and deliberate. When she’s bare, the faint scar at her throat catches the light. I let myself look for half a second before I speak again.

“On the bed.”

She climbs up and lies back, thighs parting just enough to invite.

Good girl.

“Milo, left. Micah, right. Holden, between her legs.” I stay where I am, arms crossed. “Warm her up. I want her dripping before anyone fucks her.”

Milo’s already shoving his clothes off. He drops down beside her and mouths at her throat. “Hi, kitten.”

“Hi,” she breathes.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Milo,” I warn.

“Right. Less talking.” He grins against her skin but obeys, tongue dragging lower. Micah finishes undressing and settles on her other side, one hand cupping her breast while his mouth finds her shoulder. Holden strips and pushes her thighs wider, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of one.

Fury makes a soft, broken sound.

I lean against the dresser and watch.

People think a man in my position is waiting his turn. Or that I’m a cuck who gets off on being cheated on.