Page 174 of The Influencer

Silence.

“Tell me!” I shout.

Adam can’t meet our eyes. It’s hilarious and delicious. “Uh, yeah, so there were three,” he says.

“And you were sober?” Asher asks again.

“Yes, Jesus. I am capable of having fun when I’m sober. Especially when everyone else is fucked up.” He gives Sawyer’s thigh a squeeze.

Sawyer groans, but then grudgingly tells the story. “It was a clever game, actually. Total darkness. We each had a number. We were all in a room together. Vince would call out a number, and that person would be on the receiving end and go take their spot and then the second person got to be the giver.”

I ask again, “Whose dicks did you suck?”

Adam says, “I can’t be a hundred percent—although one of them was definitely his?—”

“It definitely was,” Sawyer agrees.

“And I can easily rule out Jax?—”

Sawyer coughs again. “I got the honor of that one.”

Oh my god, I. Am. Dying.

“So, I think mine were Sawyer, Vince, and Gideon,” Adam concludes.

“Holy fucking shit,” I exclaim.

“I got Gideon, too,” Sawyer says.

I explode with laughter. Asher is a total block of silence until he says firmly, “There’s no fucking way we’re doing that.”

Adam looks appalled. “Gross, no—it was an experience, and we’ve all moved on, but don’t worry, Asher, I don’t want your mouth on my dick either.”

“Who had to suck Elio?” I ask because that man’s cock is porn legend.

Sawyer laughs out loud, and it may be the first time I’ve ever seen him do it. “Definitely Jax.” He can’t say more than that because he’s laughing too hard.

“I’m kind of sad I missed that party,” I say.

Asher pinches my ass, and I yelp. “What? You would have loved it too if there weren’t a chance you’d have to blow your brother.”

He squirms and grunts, and I grin wickedly at his discomfort. “You’re probably right,” he admits.

“So, no orgies?” I ask.

“No orgies,” Adam confirms. “And we’re not planning on picking up any new traditions, either.”

“Oh, well,” I sigh and settle back onto Asher for the rest of the ride.

We arrive at the cabin around four in the afternoon. Race, the youngest of the throuple greets us and shows Asher and me to our room. It’s at the far end of the upstairs hallway, and it’s got a view of the lake and the mountains on two sides. “This is beautiful,” Asher says.

Race smiles. “It’s one of my favorites. I take the best naps in here.”

He’s kind enough to give us a tour afterwards so we’re aware of where everyone else will be sleeping, or as in Sawyer and Adam’s case—fucking. Already. “Told you,” Asher murmurs. “I don’t think they can go six hours.”

“That’s—impressive,” I say. Asher and I rarely go more than a day unless I’ve had a particularly rough collaboration, but six hours…? At Sawyer’s age?

After the quick upstairs tour, Race leaves us in our room to settle in and freshen up. He tells us to come downstairs whenever. I get to work making Belinda’s bed while Asher uses the bathroom. My poor little Balenciaga destroyer is exhausted and immediately curls into a tiny ball to pass out. I return to the windows and take in the view. It’s nothing like West Virginia, thank goodness. Mentally, I replace all my memories of snowy mountains with these.

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