Banks wears a crooked smile. “Is that a challenge?”
“Oh hey, it’s not a contest,” I remind them, holding out my hands to referee. But they’re not even close to tackling. They’re friends. They won’t fight.
“A bet within a bet, though, string bean,” Akara tells me. “Aren’t those your favorite?”
“Yeah, as long as there aren’t any hurt feelings between you two.” I look from Akara to Banks with a mild case of concern. If they suddenly despised each other, our triad would crumble apart. There are so many elements to the three of us being together, and their friendship is essential.
“No hurt feelings,” Banks assures me, and then looks to Akara. “And I’ll take your challenge.” He spins the bottle slow enough that there’s no chance it doesn’t land on me. It goes through one full revolution before stopping.
Banks’ eyes lock on mine, and the air seems to still. My breathing shallows, then almost stops completely. Being so tall, he uses little effort to close the distance between us. He doesn’t pretend to go for my lips—instead, he beelines for my neck. His soft lips brush the flesh just below my earlobe. And his hand dips down to the small of my back. I uncross my legs, and Banks nearly scoops me up into his chest.
Fuck, fuuuck. I’m melting.
Gently, he begins to suck on my neck. My breath shortens, and my gaze is in direct line of sight to Akara.
He watches, and it’s impossible to miss the lust in his brown eyes. My pulse descends to between my legs. Banks’ lips rise to my earlobe, and the tenderness mixed with the warm, wet pressure drives me fucking wild. This feeling, I could bask in, but I want more.
My fists grip the quilt.
Banks. Banks. My eyes flutter, and I force them open onto Akara. His head is tilted, attention completely wrapped around me and my arousal. Unable to break away.
He drinks beer like he’s cooling off under the hottest sun. Sitting there watching me, Akara might as well be auditioning for the cover of a fashion magazine. But there is a primal look in his eyes. Like I’m the need to his greater thirst and hunger.
Kits. Kits.
Why are they both so hot? I try to gather my bearings. One dreamboat and one beefcake—they’re combusting me.
And Banks…
He sucks on my neck again, hitting a sensitive spot that quickens the heartbeat between my legs.
Akara palms the crotch of his red drawstring pants. I’d love to touch him, just to see how hard he’s become. To see how much I turn him on.
But I already feel sexy. Beautiful. To be desired is totally, completely intoxicating. And I’d rather drown in this feeling than surface for more breath.
Before I can process what’s happening, Banks leaves my side. His lips are replaced with cold, uninviting air. He glances to Akara. “You were fuckin’ saying?”
“Not bad,” Akara says, tipping the beer bottle back to his lips.
My turn again.
Gathering my hair on one shoulder, I try to cool down. Focus.
Concentrate.
The heat of their gazes penetrates every cell of my body. Penetrates. Now I’m imagining their cocks penetrating other parts of my body—which is definitely not helping.
I re-cross my legs. Dig my heel into the throbbing place, then I glance up at them. Their hungered, ravenous expressions are consuming me whole.
I want to be devoured like we’re animals back in the woods. Like they can’t withstand the pheromones I project, and they just need to touch me and caress me and make fucking love to me.
But I foolishly made this a kissing game.
The bottle spins out of my hand and lands on…me.
“Cumbuckets, ugh.”
“Lose a turn,” Akara says, then he spins the bottle.
It stops on…
Banks lets out a laugh. “Knew that one was coming.” He nods to Akara. “Kiss me, Kitsuwon.”
“I’m the one that gives the orders,” Akara says into a smile.
“I don’t mind it.”
“I know you don’t.”
While they sit shoulder-to-shoulder, Akara barely rotates to place a light, friendly kiss on Banks’ cheek. Waiting for the next turn draws eagerness and longing in my body. I shift my heel between my legs back and forth. I feel soaked.
Their touch is the only touch I crave, and I could dream a thousand ways of their hands caressing my body. But no dream has to be wasted with the reality this close.
Banks is quick to take his turn. The bottle whirls, then comes to a stop on me.
He doesn’t make a move right away. Instead, he looks to Akara first. “What do you think?”
Akara appraises me with headiness in his eyes.
I cross my legs tighter together to try to stop the pounding between them.
“She’s definitely not worked up yet,” Akara says teasingly.
“No, I am—I really am,” I breathe like I’m running an ultra-marathon.
Banks smiles, but to Akara, he says, “Maybe another round?”
“Definitely another round.”