Page 79 of Four More The Merrier

They stare at me, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. It's like I've suggested we all run naked through Times Square.

Jarron is the first to recover, of course. He always is. "Alright, then," he says, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Teams. Beau and Lyle against Austen and me. Like flag football."

I can't help but laugh. "Flag football? Really?"

"Hey," Beau says, stepping forward with that easy smile of his, "this is a first for us too, the only thing we know we all agree on is flag football."

Lyle's eyes sparkle with excitement as he moves beside Beau. "You ready for this?" he asks me, his voice low and full of promise.

I swallow hard and nod. My heart hammers in my chest as they advance on me. The room seems to shrink around us, the air thick with anticipation.

Beau reaches me first, his hands gentle yet firm as they find my waist. He pulls me close, his breath warm against my ear. "You okay?" he murmurs.

I nod again, unable to find my voice.

Lyle's hands slide down my arms, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "We'll take it slow," he says softly.

My body responds before my mind can catch up. I arch into Beau's touch as Lyle's fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin.

"We should have been fucking first," Austen calls from the other side of the room, arms crossed over his chest in mock indignation. "It was my idea."

"You know what they say," Jarron adds with a smirk. "Save the best for last."

Beau laughs, low and rumbling, as he dips his head to kiss my neck. "There won't be a last if we wear her out first," he promises them without taking his eyes off me.

Lyle's hand cups my chin, tilting my face toward him for a kiss that starts slow but quickly deepens, leaving me breathless.

Beau’s hands are warm and sure as they slide under the straps of my bra, fingers brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. He peppers kisses along my chest, each touch a promise of what's to come. My breath catches as he unhooks the clasp, letting the bra fall away.

Lyle bends down, his hands gliding down my sides until they find the waistband of my panties. “Let me help you with these,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that makes my knees weak.

“Hell yeah,” Jarron drawls from across the room. “She tastes like fucking heaven.”

“Shut up, lucky asshole,” Lyle snaps back, his tone half-annoyed, half-amused.

Beau chuckles against my skin, his breath warm and teasing. “How do you want us, baby?” Lyle asks, straightening up and looking me dead in the eyes.

I blink at him, my mind racing but blank all at once. “I—uh?—”

Lyle's eyes soften with understanding. “Alright, I’ve got an idea.” He smirks. “After hearing Jarron’s rave review, I’ve got to taste you too. And while I’m at it, you can taste Beau.”

My pulse quickens as I nod slowly. The idea sends a thrill through me, both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Get on all fours on the bed,” Lyle instructs gently as he and Beau begin to get undressed.

I move to the bed on shaky legs, positioning myself as he said. The mattress dips as Beau kneels in front of me. His hand cups my cheek for a moment before he leans in for a kiss that’s both tender and demanding.

From behind me, Austen whistles low. “Damn, I like the view from back here.”

Jarron’s muttered cursing filters through the haze of sensations bombarding me. “Struggling over there?” Lyle teases him as he positions himself behind me.

Jarron bites his fist but doesn’t respond verbally; his eyes say it all though—dark with need and frustration.

Beau’s fingers thread through my hair as our kiss deepens. His taste is intoxicating, mingling with the heady rush of everything happening around us.

Lyle's hands on my hips are firm but gentle as he spreads me open for him. The first touch of his tongue sends a jolt through me, making me gasp into Beau’s mouth.

“Fuck,” Beau groans against my lips. “You’re incredible.”

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