Page 66 of Unstitch

He’s already under the water, naked and glorious, his clothes dumped in a pile in the corner. Dude must have been in a hurry. His body twists this way and that under the spray. He’s a Greek god, lithe and muscular, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, and I can’t help but see him through Dex’s eyes. But when I glance behind me, Dex is studiously avoiding looking anywhere near Max.

He enters the shower behind me, Max pulling me instantly into his arms and pressing me up against the tiles so he can kiss me hungrily. His hands are all over my body, the hot water cascading over us both, and I think I might be in bad-girl heaven.

When I break off our kiss to check in on Dex, he’s already soaping himself up under the other shower head, his body (and dick) angled slightly away from us, face upturned to the torrent, hands slicking his hair back, and Mary, Joseph and sweet Baby Jesus, I cannot handle the combined hotness of these two men.

I just can’t.

They’re both ridiculous. The kind of handsome you rarely ever see in real-life guys. Dex is doing his very best to pretend Max doesn’t exist, and Max is making no effort at all to hide the thirst in his stare as he takes Dex in, but no matter. I’ve got them both here. Naked. In the shower with me.

It’s no wonder that washing myself just dropped straight to the bottom of my priority list.

I smile so widely it almost breaks my face in two and put my hands on my hips. ‘Okay, Dex. Get over here.’

He finds the courage to look in our direction, tilting his head from one side to another as water cascades over him, slicking his hair back further and pouring down his neck in rivulets. This guy gives insanely good shampoo ad.

‘Where?’ he asks with all the confidence of a man being asked to streak across an actual minefield.

‘Here,’ I demand. ‘This evening is for me, right?’ I turn to Max. ‘You said so.’

‘Course it is,’ Max assures me smoothly, stepping up behind me and winding his arms around my stomach. I lean my head back against his chest as I observe Dex. Conflicted isn’t even the word. The sight of Max wrapped around me has his lips pressing together, but he still seems to think he’s being ambushed.

On that point, he’d be right. But I’m a greedy girl, and he told me he was “all good”.

So I’m making this shower count.

‘What do you need, sweetheart?’ Max asks.

‘I need a full-on Darcy sandwich,’ I tell them, laying my hands over Max’s. ‘I want you behind me’—I pat his hand—‘and Dex in front of me, kissing me, and I want to feel squished. I want to feel every single one of your muscles, because I can’t look at you both and not get that. I need it. I want all your hands on me. I want all the attention.’

I narrowly avoid stomping my foot like Veruca Salt.

Narrowly.

‘And if you’d like to make me come with your hands, then I will absolutely be on board with that. And then,’ I continue before either of them can say anything, ‘I want you both over there’—I point to the wall of marble—‘so I can serve you both, and play with you, and maybe jerk you both off at the same time, and maybe I’ll get on my knees and take it in turns to suck you both, too, just because I can.’

The shocked silence from both of them is as deafening as the thunder of water all around us. I swear Dex might pass out from shock. Max’s cock thickens against my lower back, and I shimmy happily against it.

And then: ‘You heard the lady,’ Max says smoothly. He should honestly win awards for his ability to sound more sexily calm and controlled the more aroused he gets. He keeps one arm banded tightly around my stomach, but his other hand comes down and cups my pussy. Hard. If that’s not a provocation to Dex, I don’t know what is.

Dex turns then, and he’s hard, too. He doesn’t say a word.

But he closes the gap with us.

46

MAX

He won’t look at me.

I may as well be fucking Medusa for all the effort he’s putting into avoiding my stare.

Smart boy.

If he looked, what he’d see in my eyes would burn into his soul, obliterating every memory of Darcy’s beautiful body as he lies alone tonight with only his fist for company.

I’m staring enough for both of us, believe me. I’m staring the way a man does when he finally understands what compelled Zeus to carry off the young Ganymede so he could anoint his flawless body with nectar.

Dex’s physical beauty is stark. Astonishing. Domed, broad shoulders and a collarbone made for licking. Flat nipples marking the curves of his pecs, adorning his torso like twin proud medallions. The perfect way the water draws the hair down his stomach into a perfect line. Crisp tan lines that denote precisely the length of swim shorts he’s worn all summer and underscore that this section of his body is private.

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