‘She’s a lucky, lucky girl,’ Brendan muses. He must be white-knuckling my hips. He eases out of me and pauses, and I brace myself as hard as I can for impact before he drives forward. The way he fills me up is so sublime. He’s so, so deep in this position, and he’s practically performing this blow job for me, because his thrust pushes me forward again onto Ethan. My eyes are watering, I’m struggling for breath, but Ethan holds me here for a beat with my ponytail as he lets out a ragged exhale.

‘Let me tell you, love, the sight of you taking my dick from this angle while you suck Kingsley off is so fucking hot,’ Brendan says. ‘Maybe I’ll make you do this to all my mates, hmm? God, I love the thought of that.’

Even in the heat of the action, I bank this thought: Brendan is getting his pound of flesh from me right now. I’ll remember, when I’m sitting on that plane with Tabs having lied through my teeth to him and taken his money, how blithely he passes me around his friends and treats me like a plaything, a free-for-all.

Brendan Sullivan is not a victim here.

It seems my and Brendan’s machinations on Ethan’s dick are working their magic, for he’s growing more agitated beneath me. The fingers of his free hand flex on my jaw, he grips my ponytail more tightly, and my glances up at him through my lashes show that impassive face of his contorting as his arousal builds. And for all that I’m stuck between the two of them, impaled at both ends by their dicks, I get that heady rush of power, because all this grunting and grimacing and gasping around me? I’m doing that.

‘Fuck, I’m close,’ Ethan rasps in a borderline panicked voice that’s a world away from his previous entitled drawl.

‘Let go of her, then,’ Brendan orders. As soon as Ethan has released my hair, Brendan is bending over me and wrapping his arms around my chest and hauling me up onto my knees. He moulds me to him, my bare back against the firm bulk of his cotton-covered pecs, one hand stroking over one of my exposed breasts and the other sliding down between my legs to find the gap in my panties. ‘Put your arms around my neck, love,’ he tells me, and I do. I lean back and I grip the back of his head as best I can as he dips his face to my shoulder.

It’s only then that my gaze meets Ethan’s. The expression on his face tells me exactly what kind of sight I must make, stretched out like this for Brendan in my useless scraps of black lace, his fingers working my clit, my knees bracketing his. Ethan looks unleashed. There’s no other word for it.