A shiver of desire races down my spine, zeroing in on my clit.
The song filling the air around us fades to nothing as we move together, his hips locked against mine as his hands and lips roam.
As per his demand, I’m still wearing his jersey. He told me that the only person who’s allowed to take it off me tonight is him, and I’m more than happy to comply.
His lips find mine as his hands grasp my ass, hitching his jersey higher.
For the game, I wore pants and sneakers, but for the party, I’ve gone a little… wild.
His kiss is frantic, almost violent, and I match him move for more.
I’m so proud of him.
“Can’t get enough of you,” he confesses into our kiss. “You’re my everything.”
As our kiss and our touch become more and more indecent, my body temperature spikes. It can only mean one thing.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find Hendrix leaning against the door frame, watching us with heated eyes.
Oh god.
Over the past few months, the three of us have found a good rhythm, and the guys are getting pretty good at sharing.
Most nights, the three of us end up crashing in my room. We upgraded the bed early in the new year, so there’s space for all of us to sleep comfortably. But every now and then, I’ll spend a night with each of them alone. Being together as a group is fun, but there is something so intimate and special about being one-on-one with them.
“I think we should take this upstairs, don’t you, Rebel?”
“But it’s your party,” I argue, albeit lightly.
“Trust me, the only place I really want to celebrate is upstairs with you.”
He sucks on the sweet spot beneath my ear and I cave, obviously.
“Okay. Take me to bed, Wilder Kemp.”
“Fuck. I want to hear you say that every day.”
I gasp as he picks me up and wraps my legs around his waist.
“Then you’d better keep winning.”
“I fully intend to, don’t worry.”
He walks us through the crowd before slowing at the door.
Hendrix is still watching us, and I expect him to follow as we move past him, but to my surprise, he stops us.
“You’ve got thirty minutes,” he states. “Make the most of her before I come and take my share.”
“B-but I won,” Wilder pouts. He doesn’t mean it. Both of them love our little group activities as much as I do.
“You’re wasting your time, hotshot,” Hendrix mocks, looking at his watch. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be standing here arguing.”
“Good point,” he mutters, taking off again. He runs us up the stairs and in only seconds, we’re in his room.
The door slams behind us and my back crashes against it.
Wilder is... well… wild. His hands frantically roam over my body, pinching and squeezing in all the right places as he kisses me into a frenzy.