Page 46 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

Lucy laughs, "I said he's made up of snack food and creative genius."

"And come," Silas says again, thankfully turning away. "But yes, Lucy, to answer your question, you can see my art. I'll show you some drawings at our next date."

"Another date? When?" She perks up, leaning into my space on the opposite side. I'm sandwiched between them and it's really fucking with my head. I don't understand what's going on. We've been sharing women for years.

We're in a shitty dive bar, smelling like stale beer, peanuts and garlic gyros. There's literally nothing sexy about this place. But they're pressed into me from either side, and when Lucy's hand comes down on my thigh so she can lean closer, I groan, in physical pain at the restraint it takes to not pull her onto the table, rip off her pants and spank her bare ass. We'd spit roast her, right here in front of everyone. Silas would take her mouth, and I'd take her pussy, and at the last minute, we'd pull out and cover her back in our come. Silas would rub it in, and I'd use it as lube to push into her ass and fuck her again, while Silas—

"We should get you home," I rasp. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. My thoughts just took a turn I wasn't expecting. Feeling the heat of Silas's thigh against mine, it's hard to ignore how hard I am for these two. For her, I mean. Fuck.

"I gotta go," I say again, a little louder.

"Bro, you okay?"

"I'm fine. It's just getting late. And Lucy…" I turn and look at her. She's drunk. Officially. I look down at my glass and realizeshe drank the rest of mine. Four beers? Five? She's had a lot, in any case.

"You're probably right. Alright, let's get her home."

Chapter 17

Silas

Our girl is blitzed. We hailed a cab to take Lucy home and by the time we made it to the elevator, Noah had her cradled in his arms, and we weren't the least bit surprised to find an irate Matty when we got up to their apartment.

Leading the way, I step inside, with Noah right behind me, carefully navigating the doorway, holding her close. Matty leans in as if to take her from him.

"Let him hold her," I whisper. He nods, stepping back. He's still pissed, but a faint smile crosses his lips, seeing what I'm seeing.

With a mix of nervousness and elation, Noah holds Lucy close, like he can't believe in what universe this girl would end up in his arms. Noah has no trouble getting laid. Hell, most of the time I'm with him when he does. But this is different. Of the three of us, even coinedthe sensitive one, he's probably the only one who hasn't dated seriously before. This is new for him. All night it looked like he was trying to figure out where he fit. All that talk about our history of being together, being in poly relationships, and he still looks like a fish out of water, holding Lucy like she's previous cargo, but like he's just the delivery guy, not the pedestal to set her on.

"Where should I put her?" Noah asks quietly, not taking his eyes off her.

"Follow me," Matty instructs. They disappear down a hall, so I get comfortable on the couch.

"Lucy doesn't keep her phone on her these days," Matty says when they both return.

"She told us a little about what's going on online. I feel better knowing she didn't purposely ignore me yesterday," Noah sighs, sitting on the couch opposite me.

Matty sits beside Noah, then pins us with a glare. "Right. She's got a lot going on and doesn't have her phone with her. Which is why I expect at least one of you fucking assholes to answer your phone."

I wince, guilty of ignoring his calls all night. "You could have texted," I say weakly.

"I did."

"Ah… hah. Sorry about that. We were having fun."

"Is everything okay, Mateo?" Noah asks.

Matty glances down the hall where Lucy sleeps, then back at us, a troubled look on his face. He gets up and grabs his bag. Pulling out a thin, wide black box, he hands it over.

"This was waiting at the desk downstairs for me when I got home tonight."

Frowning, I lift the lid of the box. It's heavy, with layers of tissue paper. I pull them back and when I see the picture frame, I'm stunned. I cough, trying to lighten the mood.

"Your dick shrunk."

He grumbles, snatching the box out of my hands and giving it to Noah. Noah's response is much more appropriate. "This isn't you."

"Obviously. But someone expertly superimposed my face onto a naked body and delivered it in a frame with a bow to my home. That's creepy, right?"

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