Page 35 of The Devil's Daughter

My heart is pounding so hard all I can do is nod and whisper, “I understand. It means something to me too. You already know I wasn’t exactly saving myself for marriage or anything, but I knew being with Ben the other night was right. It made me wonder if we’d had the opportunity before … well, maybe the three of us would already…” I frown, and Baz shakes his head.

“Chica, it’s happening how it was meant to. I’m not about to question it. Are you ready?”

He reaches for the TV remote as I grab my phone and start to dial Drake like I did last night. “What are you doing?” I ask Baz as the line starts to ring.

“Making sure they can watch.”

Just as Drake picks up, a picture appears on the screen. Ben and Drake are standing in a bedroom that’s a mirror of my own, but with a burgundy and silver color scheme instead of blue and gold. They’re shirtless and glistening with sweat as if they’ve just worked out. Drake holds his phone to his ear and smiles.

“You don’t need the phone Elle,” he says. “Sorry I didn’t tell you there are cameras in these rooms. But I knew about these already. Hopefully the fact that you’re calling me means this is happening.”

I hang up and grin at the TV screen. “You guys said yes.”

“Of course we did,” Ben says. “But you’vegotto be sore after the other night. Are you sure you’re ready?”

I involuntarily clench my vaginal muscles. They twinge a little, but the ache is mostly arousal, not pain. It hurt more the day after, but it’s faded enough that I miss it now.

“Not too sore for Baz. Are you two okay with it being just the two of you?”

They share a long look. Drake licks his lips, his gaze remaining on Ben when Ben turns back to me to say, “We’ll manage. You two just pretend we’re not here. I’m hitting mute so we’re not a distraction.”

The little microphone with a slash icon pops up on the screen and the pair settle on the end of Drake’s bed. I look at Baz.

“Is it weird that I have a little performance anxiety? It’s not like we’re being graded.”

“Don’t overthink it,” he says. “Just enjoy it. You ready to give them a show?”

“I guess. How do you want to do it?”

He turns toward me and brushes his knuckles across my cheekbone, then bends and gives me a peck on the lips. “Leave it to me,pajarito,” he whispers in my ear, then dips his head to kiss my shoulder as he slips behind me.

Goosebumps cascade down my spine when he brushes my hair off my back, draping it over one shoulder so he can have access to my neck. I sigh and tilt my head when he grazes his lips along the sensitive skin beneath my ear.

Only half my attention remains on the screen, but all Ben and Drake are doing is watching. They’re still really nice to look at, especially in nothing but gym shorts. Ben leans over and unlaces, then kicks off his shoes and moves to the head of the bed, settling back against the pillows with hands braced behind his head. Drake glances over his shoulder, says something, then joins him.

They don’t touch at all, which is a little disappointing. I’d hoped this would give Ben the excuse he needed to take things further with Drake. But they’re on abedtogether, half-naked, so I suppose that does constitutefurther, right?

Baz grazes his hand down my ribcage just beneath my right arm, then slips it beneath the loose fabric of my baggy PJ top to cup my breast. When he brushes the pad of his thumb over my nipple, I sigh, letting my head fall back against his shoulder.

“You ready to get naked? Does being watched turn you on?”

“Yes to both,” I murmur, turning my head and nipping at his jawline.

“I just have to say that being the one who gets to show you off is kind of hot. Especially because I get to have my hands on you.”

“Please, yes,” I say. “Put your hands on me.”

He captures my mouth with his, but holds me firm so I have to twist my neck a little to kiss him properly. I reach up with one arm and curl my hand around his nape. He draws out the kiss, cupping and squeezing my breast, then teasing at both nipples with his thumb and forefinger. Then he removes his hand and slides it down my belly, tugging at the elastic waist of my shorts until they drop past my hips and fall the rest of the way to the floor. My shirt still hangs past my hips, and he slips his hand beneath.

I whimper as he teases his fingertips in small caresses over the top of my right inner thigh. He makes a sound of interest upon finding my skin sticky with arousal, then grazes my outer folds just briefly as he caresses higher. He goes still when his hand reaches my navel, then he slowly explores southward again, this time straight down the center over my mound until his fingertips slide through the soaked mess of my pussy.

He hums softly into my mouth, then releases me and says, “Were you going commando at breakfast, Ellie?”

“Y-Yes,” I breathe, distracted by the light, circular strokes he’s giving my clit. “I don’t wear underwear under my pajamas.”

“And you didn’t let any of us know, did you? Because I guarantee if my brother had known, he’d have bent you over and fucked you on the table upstairs. How ’bout we show it to them?”

My breath hitches when he stops touching me long enough to yank the hem of my shirt up, revealing my little secret to the other two. I stare at the screen, and both men have some version of surprise on their faces. Ben’s worrying his lower lip between thumb and forefinger, his other hand lightly resting on his waistband. His shorts are tented with his erection, as are Drake’s beside him.

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