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A groan rumbles in my chest.
Akara makes a deep noise.
I toy with her clit again. She writhes, crying out in pleasure. Shifting her legs, until Akara braces one leg open, his arm hooked under her knee.
Her hand flies to my head and to Akara’s bicep—but Akara seizes her wrists, pulling her hands above her head.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” she cries.
The intensity is driving me insane. My cock is ready to burst through my boxer-briefs.
As soon as I suck deeper between her thighs and she eyes him and me and the way we have her, she explodes into a peak. Her high-pitched moan could wake RV campers five-minutes away, and Akara is quick to shield her mouth with his hand again.
She’s loud.
I smile. Love that about her.
And I loved going down on her as much as she loved me down there. Best fucking feelings: mutual attraction and satisfaction.
We watch her come down, and Akara kisses her wrists before lowering her arms.
“Holy fuck,” she breathes, then laughs in awe. “So that’s what that feels like?”
We’re all smiling, until car lights suddenly roll towards our campsite. The air sobers. My gaze narrows.
“Shit,” Akara curses. “They’re back.”
Team Apex.
Sulli quickly reaches for her leggings.
I help her shimmy them back on. Akara grabs his radio and asks for updates from SFO.
When Sulli is fully dressed, I grab my gun and leave the tent. Adrenaline doesn’t help my erection right now, it presses painfully against the fabric of my boxer-briefs. Lengthy strides take me to the road beside Booger, and I watch as Team Apex’s Jeep Wrangler rolls towards me.
I feel exposed in the light, but fuck it, I hope I’m doing a damn good job at glaring them down. Six-seven and pissed off, they don’t want to mess with me right now.
The Jeep comes to a halt and then they do a quick three-point turn and drive back in the direction they came.
Good.
Stay gone.
I turn around, and Akara is standing beside the tent.
As I duck and crawl back inside, I tell him, “They must’ve thought we’d be asleep.”
“They’ll be back again,” Akara says, following me.
Sulli looks between us while we zip up the tent. “I know we probably shouldn’t risk doing anything, if they come back, but I’d feel better knowing I got you guys off too.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her.
Akara nods, “We shouldn’t risk it.”
“You’re both as hard as fucking rock.”
I raise a shoulder. “It’ll pass.” Yeah, I’m pent-up as fuck, but I enjoyed seeing her come and getting her off more than I’ll enjoy coming right now.
“Kits?” Sulli asks.
“Another time.” He fixes a loose wire in his radio. “It’s not important.”
“Your needs are important to me.”
He smiles. “I’m not saying never. Just not now.”
“Alright,” she says understandingly. “But maybe we don’t have to sleep in the sleeping bags? Could we risk that?”
I look to Akara. He’s the boss.
He nods. “We can do that.”
We all crawl under the sleeping bags like a blanket, and Sulli rolls onto her side, facing me. She buries her head into my chest and then reaches behind her and pulls Akara’s shirt. He scoots closer until his chest is flush to her back. His eyes meet mine.
We’re not kissing.
We’re not really even holding her.
And yet it feels fucking intimate. I realize in this moment that I’ve never had this. I’ve fucked a lot of women, and most of the time it’s been un-sensational. Forgettable, even. I always thought I was bad at love. But maybe I just never had it to begin with. Never had intimacy like this.
That hits me.
“I’ll take first shift,” Akara whispers to me. “Get some sleep, Banks.”
It’s hard to close my eyes.
But I take his orders and try to drift asleep.
31
AKARA KITSUWON
The small nearby town consists of a general store, a diner, and bait & tackle shop that has a pet store in the back. Sulli pulls Booger into the parking lot of Fish Hooks, and I adjust my radio.
“Sulli, you sure you want to do this?” I question. “It might just piss them off even more.”
She narrows her eyes at the store challengingly. “If it’s a prank war they want, it’s a prank war they’re going to fucking get.”
Banks and I confronted Team Apex this morning, and they pretended not to know anything about the snakes. But as soon as we turned our backs, they snickered like high schoolers that got away with shit. In that moment, I was all for retaliation. But that’s also a different side of me. The side that doesn’t own a security company and doesn’t need to deescalate threats.
“We’ve got your six,” Banks tells her.
I nod at that as we all climb out and head into the store. Shit, the smell hits me first, almost bowling me over: a strong, clashing odor of fish bait and pine chips used for hamster cages.
“Jesus,” Banks scrunches his nose.
