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Hunter presses a little harder on my clit and a little moan escapes me. He kisses my neck, slow, from my shoulder to my earlobe. Every touch ignites me a little more, stoking the fire in my belly, sending electricity coursing through my clit, keeping me wet and ready and so, so close.

“Do you like being watched?” Hunter murmurs. The question should shock me. It’s a shocking question, objectively speaking, but I’m not shocked. I’m turned on beyond all reason, and the question lingers in the air the same way his lips linger on my skin.

I know the answer, deep, deep down. It’s not something I’ve ever told anybody, not romantic partners, not even best friends. This was my own little private fantasy, and now it’s standing in front of me, waiting for me to claim it. I’m falling to pieces under Hunter’s touch. I can’t think, I can barely breathe, I’m right on the edge of bliss again, and the truth comes out without my permission.

“Yes,” I whimper. “I like it.”

Not that it’s ever happened before, but every girl has her own private fantasies. Hunter hums against my shoulder, sounding pleased. He switches directions on my clit, moving from clockwise to counterclockwise, and the switch-up makes me writhe. He’s barely moving inside me, but just the pressure of his cock and the way his fingers are moving is driving me insane.

“Do you want Beau to touch you, too? Or should he just watch?”

If I wasn’t shocked before, I definitely should be now. Is he offering me up to his brother? No, not really. It’s more like he’s offering his brother to me. I am in control here, and that knowledge fills me with an intoxicating sense of power. Not shock. Not dismay, not embarrassment, not shame. Power. And that power turns me on.

I’m in shambles, so close, and he’s not letting up. I can barely breathe, I can’t speak, I can hardly think. But even if my brain isn’t working, I know the answer to Hunter’s question. It lives in the fire in my blood, in the pulses between my hips. Before I can answer, the orgasm rips through me.

“Yes,” I cry as I come. “More. I want more. I want Beau too.”

The climax rolls through me, long and luxurious as I buck and writhe on Hunter’s lap, gasping for air. I’m watching Beau, needing to know his reaction, praying for his touch, feeling the sensation of the bathtub in my memory and knowing that it would be something amazing. He’s standing there, watching me come, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides like he’s fighting a battle inside.

“Fuck it,” he mutters.

He crosses the room in two strides. He grabs my face and kisses me hard, rough, passionately, like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it. I taste the difference between them. Where Hunter tastes like the feel of summer rain, Beau tastes like the smell of coffee in autumn. Where Hunter teased and maintained playful control, Beau kisses like he’s angry about how much he wants me.

It’s thrilling. I meet his energy exactly, pouring my all into the kiss. Hunter groans and starts moving again, gripping my hips, pumping inside me, faster and faster as I hold on to Beau with my hands and my mouth, meeting his lips, his tongue, his hot desire with my own.

Hunter curls into me, his chest hot against my back, his cock expanding my insides as he gets somehow harder, pressing his mouth against my shoulder as his breath comes in ragged pants. He shudders, pulsing inside me, coming hard while I’m still kissing his brother.

Beau breaks the kiss but keeps his hands on my face. Hunter stays where he is, mouth pressed against my shoulder, sucking in ragged breaths in the aftermath. I’m between them, breathing hard. Two men, touching me. One inside me, one looking like he wants to destroy my mouth with his all over again.

I can feel both of their heartbeats. Hunter’s is slowing down against my back, heavy and satisfied, his chest rising and falling in long waves. Beau’s pulse is hammering under his palms where they’re pressed against my jaw. One coming down, one revving up. I’m the axis between them, the place where their opposite rhythms meet, and my body is humming at a frequency I didn’t know I had.

This is insane. Two men. I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve never done anything like this before. This isn’t who I am. Well… it wasn’t who I was. I don’t know if I know who I am anymore, especially in this moment. Hunter’s touch and Beau’s attention have taken me apart piece by piece and I’m holding onto the threads of myself for dear life.

And the strangest part, the part that’s short-circuiting everything I thought I knew about myself, is that I don’t feel dirty. I should. I should feel like the kind of woman my mother whispers about at brunch, the kind Preston’s friends would call a slut if they ever found out. I’m waiting for the shame to hit, bracing for it the way you brace for cold water. But it doesn’t come. What comes instead is something warm and defiant and terrifyingly honest: I feel wanted. Not fought over. Not claimed. Wanted, by two people who aren’t competing for me, who aren’t trying to win me from each other. There’s no jealousy in this room. No scorekeeping. Hunter just came inside me while I was kissing his brother, and he’s not angry. He’s breathing against my shoulder like he’s exactly where he wants to be. And Beau is looking at me like he couldn’t drag his attention away if he tried, and he doesn’t seem to care that his brother got there first.

Beau draws back slightly, his intense gaze studying my face. “I heard your sexy little noises,” he says in that low almost-growl of his. “Then I came in here and saw you riding my brother, horny and wet and moaning, and I saw how dirty you can be. You’re a bad, bad girl.”

I shake my head earnestly and lick my lips, still tasting him on them. “No, I’m not.”

Beau smirks. “That’s too bad. Since you said it’s just tonight… if you were a bad girl, there are so many things I’d want to do to you.”

My breath catches in my throat. I remember the bath, the way his cock twitched against my back, the way my body came to life, how hard it was to suppress my own arousal. Now he’s here, talking dirty, looking at me like this. I lick my lips again.

“Like what?” I whisper.

“Like bend you over. Get all up in your guts. I want to hear you make those noises for me. I want to pound into you until you can’t remember that asshole’s name. Hell, I want to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

My body reacts instantly. Hunter laughs softly.

“I think she liked hearing that,” he says teasingly. “I can feel her squeezing around me.”

My face heats up, but I can’t deny it. Every syllable that falls out of Beau’s beautiful mouth is making it so much harder to think. I’m so turned on I can barely see straight, but he’s waiting. Watching my face. Waiting for the green flag.

Knowing that he won’t do anything until I say yes turns me on even more. This big, burly, scary-looking man doesn’t just want me. He wants me to want him. He wants me to tell him that I want him, and he’s not going to do anything until I say so.

“Yes,” I tell him. “Yes. I want that.”

He pulls me up off of Hunter and into his arms in a smooth motion. The sudden absence of Hunter inside me makes me gasp, a sharp little emptiness that my body protests immediately. But then Beau’s arms are around me, one under my knees, one across my back, and I’m pressed against his chest and his shirt is rough against my skin.