“I-” I stutter. There is no way that they didn’t see what I was just doing. “Can you just-”
I don’t know what to say. Can you just leave and come back another time? Can you just pretend you didn’t see what you just saw and absolutely never ever speak about this?
“What, Ruby?” Dean takes a step closer to me. “Can we just what?”
Why aren’t they embarrassed? Why aren’t they running out the door?
“I was just-” I take a deep breath. I really need to figure out how to complete a sentence.
“What were you just doing?” Dean takes a step closer and then gets down on his knees next to the couch so we’re face to face. I can feel my body trembling. I was just about to break entirely open, imagining them while I did. I know there’s no way for them to know I was picturing them, but I feel like Dean can see right through me at this moment.
He grabs my phone before I even realize what he’s doing.
“What were you listening to?” He asks darkly as I claw at him to try to get it back. He effortlessly avoids my attempts and turns the screen to his face. I cover my face with my arms, wishing I could sink into this couch and disappear forever.
“Oh,” his voice is a whisper.
“Just leave,” I plead from behind my hands. “Please.”
“We’re not going to do that,” Dean says calmly.
Then I feel fingers on my wrist, pulling my hand away from my face. My skin heats at every small point that comes into contact with him.
“What were you thinking about when you touched yourself to our music?” He presses his thumb into my palm and tilts my hand, examining my fingers. I shake with mortification, seeing my own slickness glistening on my middle finger.
He sees it too.
“Fuck Ruby,” his voice is low and strained. “You’re this wet from just our music?”
His deep, intense eyes are a hurricane of emotion.
“Dean,” my voice shakes.
“We can do so much more for you than one song.” His eyes don’t waver from mine.
He brings my hand to his mouth and softly kisses my middle finger. The sight almost pushes the orgasm that was already trembling inside me over the edge.
“Were you imagining one of us finally tasting you? Maybe even more than one of us?”
As if his words aren’t enough on their own, then he takes my finger in his mouth, his tongue swirling around my finger and licking off the evidence of my self-pleasure. A small gasp escapes my lips.
Asher takes a step closer, watching us. I want to shrink and disappear from embarrassment and at the same time want to live in this moment forever.
“I like seeing you like this,” Dean’s voice is gravelly. “It’s written all over your face what you want, baby girl. Now are you brave enough to admit it?”
He moves back and lifts one of my legs, making room to settle his large frame on the couch and in between my legs. He rubs one strong hand up along the skin of my shin and then my thigh.
“Dean,” I whisper.
His deep brown eyes meet mine. “Do you want me to stop?”
I hold his gaze for a long moment, debating what to do. Terror rips through me, being like this in front of them. But still, there is only one answer to that question.
No. Of all the things I want in the world, in this moment, the number one thing is for him not to stop.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Asher