Page 10 of Good Girl and Grinches

Flame returns. “I talked to Laz. He’d like to help, but without formal charges brought against Tyson, he agrees that taking any action could trigger him. Right now it might be best to let Ty think he’s getting the best of us and ignore him. But Laz will offer up a few distractions.”

“Two of us could block Ty’s view, see if he’ll get bored and move on,” Ruckus says.

Flame’s quick to take action, guiding me to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of me, and seductively removing my shoes. His fingers trailing up my calves, initiating the massage.

My muscles melt under his touch. How tense was I? Since I’ve never had a massage, I’m guessing twenty years of built-up tension.

Ruckus and Ghost shield me from Ty’s view, their broad shoulders and thick thighs creating a wall of muscle.

“Are you okay with this?” Ruckus asks.

My eyes meet his and I nod. The room has become a cocoon of safety. And maybe, I’m overeager to find out how relaxing a full massage will be.

“How far do you want to go?” Ghost’s eyes are pinned on Flame’s hands working my thighs.

His fingers dig into the tops of my thighs, kneading the muscles into surrender. But his thumbs dip onto my inner thighs and the contrast is insane. Each inch higher that he moves increases my need to burn through the checklist.

“Dress on or off? Stop with the massage, see if Peeping Tom gets bored. Or go all the way in the name of Spite Sex. It’s up to you.” Flame looks up at me.

Spite Sex. Why does that turn me on? I should probably work up to that. But it liberates me to be okay with not being totally reserved. If Ty’s not actually interested in me, not even in the sex—it’s about his power over us—it doesn’t feel as weird to go ahead and enjoy myself.

I’ll hope that since my stepbrothers are willing, I’m not a crazy social deviant for enjoying this.

“Massage yes, dress no, and we go from there.”

Flame slowly unzips my dress and pulls it off, leaving me in my panties and bra. The freedom is exhilarating. I’ve never been shy about my body, my bathing suits are always bikinis, but having eyes on me in my bra and panties… with the promise of sex… is an entirely different experience.

He eases me higher onto the bed, positioning me on my belly, and starts the caresses, his hands warm and confident.

Ruckus and Ghost join us, providing their wall of blockage between my body and the observation window. I’d be more disappointed if the primary reason wasn’t to block Ty’s view.

Ha! Let him think he’s controlling us. This has been my number-one fantasy.

Having all of their hands on me ignites a wild streak, almost enough to make me not worry about lists, like Jasmine had said an orgasm might do.

I can’t stop thinking about the two remaining items on the list while their hands find and release every ounce of tension while they find and trigger every erogenous zone. I’m making a list of places I had no idea would turn me on: ears, hands, backs of knees—

The massage stops, drawing me from my thoughts, and before I realize what’s happening, they’ve coordinated flipping me onto my back.

I’m a pulsing mess of need as I watch the three of them, their faces etched with desire, hands exploring my body like I’m their latest case and they’re determined to find every piece of evidence.

Flame’s touch is confident, bordering on cocky, his fingers trailing fire along my collarbone. Ghost, ever the protector, is gentle, almost reverent, as his large hands linger on my belly, his fingers tracing circles that make my muscles quiver. And sweet Ruckus’ touch is comforting yet firm, massaging my breasts through my bra with a tenderness that belies his strength.

My nerves alight with every sensation. I want more. I want their hands everywhere, I want to be taken, claimed. But they avoid the one place I need them most. Their fingers skirt the edge of my panties, teasing the sensitive skin along the lace but never dipping in. It’s maddening. It’s delicious. It’s not enough.

“Please,” I whisper, arching into Ghost’s touch. His eyes flick up to mine, hesitation in their blue depths.

“Patience, Sabrina,” Flame murmurs, leaning down to lick along my collarbone, nipping at my neck, then kissing his way onto my lips. His hand skims down my side, over my hip, and I hold my breath, waiting, hoping as he tucks his fingers into the elastic of my panties. “We have all night.”

I groan in frustration, and Ruckus chuckles, his breath warm on my chest as he nuzzles his face between my breasts. “Why rush when we can make sure you enjoy every minute of tonight?”

I’m about to combust, and they’re talking about taking their time. I squirm, trying to direct their hands, but Ruckus and Flame each take one of my hands and pin it to the mattress.

Add that to the list of things I never imagined enjoying.

I whimper and surrender. Their touches become firmer, more insistent, yet they continue their exquisite torture of avoidance. I’m not sure how much more I can take.

I’m going to learn a lot from them.

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