Page 27 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

Two can play this game. I smirk and turn to Holt. “Your turn. Strip.”

Holt groans, but there’s no real protest. He shrugs out of his flannel shirt, flexing obnoxiously as he does. Ivy laughs, shaking her head. “You two are ridiculous.”

I wink at her. “Your turn, City Girl.”

Ivy hesitates, that vulnerability flashing across her face. She peels off a sock, tentative but playing along.

"Keep it fair," I say, gesturing to her other foot.

She complies, mirroring us, two socks tossed aside.

“You can do better than that,” Holt eggs her on, waggling his brows.

With an exaggerated sigh, Ivy shifts, grabbing the hem of her sweater. “Fine.” She peels it off, revealing a tight black tank top underneath. My mouth goes dry.

Holt makes a show of fanning himself. “Now we’re talkin’.”

Ivy rolls her eyes, but there’s a flush creeping up her neck that tells me she’s feeling this just as much as we are.

I lean back, pretending to think. “All right, new dare. Ivy, get over here.” I pat my thigh. “You’re sitting in my lap for the next two rounds.”

Her lips part slightly, and for a second, I think she’s going to protest. Instead, she squares her shoulders and climbs onto my lap, settling herself right over my hardening cock. There's nohiding my interest now. It’s pressed firmly against her. I know the exact moment she realizes it. Her breath catches, cheeks flushing.

Fuck.

I flex my hands on her hips, willing myself to stay still. Ivy, on the other hand, shifts just enough to make me grit my teeth.

Holt chuckles. “Comfortable?”

She lifts her chin, playing it cool. “Very.”

I glance at Holt. “Your move.”

His smirk turns wicked. “Okay, Wyatt. Kiss the back of Ivy’s neck.”

Heat licks up my spine. I could refuse, but fuck that. I lean in, nose brushing her skin, our woodsy scent mingling with her floral shampoo. I brush my lips over her bare skin, slow and deliberate. But it's enough to make her shiver. I do it again, lingering.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath. Because she does taste good, so good.

I swirl the amber liquid in the bottle, the warmth of Ivy’s body pressed against mine making it impossible to think straight. She hasn’t moved an inch, and I sure as hell haven’t asked her to.

I glance at Holt, my smirk turning sharp. “All right, since you’re so damn smug—your turn.”I pour a single drop of whiskey onto the curve of Ivy’s collarbone. “Lick it off.”

Holt’s eyes darken, and Ivy lets out a soft laugh, though there’s a breathiness to it now. He leans in, slow, deliberate, his breath warm against Ivy’s skin. His tongue flicks out, catching the drop of whiskey, and Ivy’s whole body shudders against me.

Fuck.

The room feels hotter suddenly, the space between us charged. I tighten my grip on her waist as Holt lingers, his lips brushing just beneath her jaw. Ivy’s breathing stutters, and themoment stretches too long, too thick with tension. Then, before I can process what’s happening, Holt tilts her chin and kisses her.

His lips press firmly to hers, hands cupping her face. A growl builds low in my throat, but not from jealousy. No, it’s something else entirely. Because Ivy is still in my lap, her ass pressing against my cock as Holt’s mouth moves over hers.

She responds instantly, fingers digging into his arms. Holt fists a hand in her hair, deepening the kiss. She lets out a soft, needy sound, and I swear my vision goes hazy. Their kisses are desperate, consuming. And I'm here, feeling every movement, every sigh that Ivy lets out.

We’re not playing anymore.

The game's forgotten, the rules abandoned. We're past dares now, past playing it safe. Her back presses against me, and I can feel her heart racing through the thin fabric of her shirt. My pulse echoes hers, every nerve ending alive and shouting.

I can’t stop myself as I lean forward. The warmth of Ivy's skin burns against my lips as I trace the line of her neck with kisses. She lets out a soft moan, the sound shooting straight through me. Her hips move, grinding back into me, and I can't help but let my hands wander, exploring the curves that have been tempting me all night. Hell, all week.

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