Page 162 of Play Dirty

And the part that really messed with me?

I wasn’t jealous.

Not of Ares.

Not of Grayson.

Not even a little.

I should’ve been. Any normal guy would’ve been.

Hell, any sane guy would’ve been.

Instead?

I kept thinking about the way she looked between all of us. Stretched out on the bed. Pinned between Ares and Grayson, as they sawed her back and forth in the dirtiest, most beautiful way possible.

The soft feel of her ass, pushing back against me. Wriggling just enough on the downstroke, to swallow me so deep I wanted to claw the sheets and scream.

And I could hear her screams too. Her soft sighs. The satisfied coos she made, whenever one of us bottomed out inside her, and the cat-like purrs that came afterward, once she’d climaxed around us.

The molten warmth of her body. The soft curve of her hips, rising and falling, as I watched her sleep.

I loved the way she’d given herself over to us. The way she didn’t hesitate.

The way she leaned into it — like it made sense.

Like we made sense.

It didn’t, though.

None of it did.

Because what we’d done over the past few days? The way it worked? The way it didn’t feel like something we were going to regret?

That was the part that should’ve bothered me.

It didn’t.

If anything… it felt right.

Which was probably the most screwed up thing about all of it.

Or maybe—

I adjusted my grip on my gear, heading for the door as the cold hit me again.

Maybe it wasn’t screwed up at all.

Maybe it was the first honest thing that had happened to us in a long time. We’d survived being trapped together. Survived the truth. Survived each other.

Now we had to survive everything else.

And for some reason?

That felt like the harder part.

~ 47 ~