Wait. Is he asking me to ditch the other two?

I’m still examining those urgent words when Gabe drops into a kneeling position beside Tobias, surging forward to press his panting open mouth to my belly, his huge hands beginning to participate in the act of drawing up my skirt, too. “I want her first,” Gabe rasps.

“Life is full of disappointment, mate. She’s mine.” This from Tobias, who has finally shoved my skirt high enough to reveal my white cotton underwear, of which the crotch is embarrassingly soaked—and they both stare with open appreciation for several beats, before converging on me at once. Gabe’s mouth arrows toward the cotton triangle, but Tobias wraps a forearm around my hips, ripping me to the right at the last second, his mouth fastening to my drenched mound of cotton and suctioning me through my panties.

I’m trapped between protest and…utter lust. How is he…how. How is he inflicting so much pleasure on me with a barrier between us? He has stiffened his bottom lip and he’s rubbing side to side over the top of my clit and I’m already panting. My left leg is lifting to wrap around his head, because if he stops, the bliss comes to an end and it can’t end. It can’t.

There is a scuffle below and suddenly it’s Gabe’s mouth providing the friction, the unabashed, urgent licking through my wet underwear—and it’s so good, different than Tobias’s mouth, but somehow exactly what I need, too—and it comes to a stop when Tobias elbows his way back in, jerking me toward him with that arm wrapped around my hips. A tug of war is ensuing between Tobias and Gabe, which is bad enough, but then Banks enters the mix, enfolding me in his arms and dragging me away from the scene. At first I think it’s to disengage me from the battle happening between Gabe and Tobias, but when our laps press together, he curses under his breath and backs me toward the kitchen counter. Pins me.

“Do me a favor and wrap those legs around me nice and tight, angel,” he urges, reaching down for my knees as if to jerk them up—and I’m shocked to find that I want to. My core tightens expectantly, excited by the imagery of his demand. He wants to take me here, against the counter, roughly if his harsh breathing is any indication. But over Banks’s shoulder, I see the other two approaching with twin expressions of possessiveness and I know we’ve taken a wrong turn. They’re literally fighting over who gets me first. Consider my mind blown.

“Stop,” I mutter, still trapped in the need they’ve woven around me.

They stop.

On a dime.

They’re not happy about it, but apart from their chests heaving up and down, their movements cease immediately—and I’ve never felt more powerful. Seen. Heard. Sure, my skirt is around my waist and I’m wedged in between a seriously aroused man while two more seethe behind him, visibly restraining themselves from stealing me, but I’m in control of this situation. And control feels incredible. I have to triple lock my apartment door to keep danger out and can’t go places alone at night, so the way these men respect my wishes is…well, it’s how it should be, but it’s also fucking glorious.