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I win the next hand, and all four boys except River are down to just their underwear. He still has his shirt on, a long sleeved tee in a heather-gray, plus his boxer briefs.
The next hand goes to Linc, and suddenly, Dax and Chase are naked.
I’m sitting between them in the circle we formed around the table, and when my gaze darts toward them, my eyes tracking downward against my will, I see that they’re both a little hard.
“Don’t let us distract you,” Dax murmurs teasingly, though his voice is rough. He jerks his chin toward the two kings of Linwood who each still have something on. “Kick their asses.”
I try. I really do.
But it is distracting as fuck having two solidly built, completely naked guys on either side of me. It doesn’t help that I can feel a flush creeping up my chest, warming my cheeks—a visible signal to everyone here that I’m affected by this. By the sight of them like this.
River wins again, and my knees actually shake a little as I stand up, unbutton my jeans, and push them down my legs to kick them off. The room is so fucking quiet I can hear each of the boys breathing, and when I sit back down, I can feel wetness dampening my panties.
The next hand feels like a blur, and I honestly don’t know if I let River win or if he beats me fair and square, but the next thing I know, Lincoln’s gaze catches mine from across the table, and we don’t look away from each other as he tugs off his boxer briefs and I slowly unhook my bra and slide it down my arms.
My nipples are peaked, and my breasts feel full and swollen. It takes conscious effort not to let my chest heave as I try to suck in oxygen from an atmosphere that feels too thick.
I still have on my panties. River has his boxer briefs.
But that’s it.
Nobody speaks as we play the next round, except for low murmurs of “call” and “raise”. And when we show our hands, a slight smile crosses River’s face, and he tugs his full bottom lip between his teeth.
Then he reaches for the waistband of his boxer briefs, shifting his weight as he tugs them off.
He tosses them to the floor, sky-gray gaze focused on me, and I realize the other three boys are watching me too.
“You win, Low,” River murmurs softly. “You win.”
23
I win.
The thin layer of silky material still clinging to my hips is the marker of my victory.
It’s the last scrap of clothing anyone in this room is wearing.
Nobody speaks for several long beats. Nobody even moves. The smoked joint and the banter—hell, the cards and chips themselves—are forgotten, like none of that really mattered at all. Like this is what we were building toward the whole time, and we all knew it but couldn’t admit it until this moment.
Chase and Dax are fully hard now. The table obscures the other two boys, but from the way Lincoln’s eyes smolder and the way River’s deep breaths match my own, I’m sure the twins aren’t alone.
My panties are wet, the ache in my core so demanding it makes me squirm in my seat, desperate for some relief.
But I’m not quite sure what to do.
If it was just me and one of them, I’d feel confident taking the lead—I’d know where this was going and how to navigate it. But it’s not just one of them, it’s all four of them, and even though I like that, crave it, I don’t know exactly what to do with it.
I’m like a dog who finally catches the squirrel she’s been chasing and proceeds to freak the fuck out.
Whatever was building between all of us in the pool—I want that back. I want to be connected to all of them somehow, even if I don’t know quite how to manage it.
But I can at least make us even.
I can show them what I want.
Pushing my chair back slightly, I rise to my feet, watching the reactions of the four boys gathered around the table. Their gazes track me just like they did when I was in the pool, only this time, I’m not taking off a dress. What I’m taking off now is both a lot less and a lot more than that.
Gathering my courage, letting the sweet ache in my body spur me on, I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and push them down over my hips.
