Page 92 of Shootout Daddies
“Hunter,” I whisper. “I need to tell you something.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Landon
“I feel like such a pervert.”
The words are soft, nearly lost in the hum of the TV. For a second I think I’ve imagined them until I see the green light blink steady on the baby monitor in front of us.
Her voice. Ivy’s voice. Not in this room, but carrying clear enough through the tiny speaker that it sinks into my bones.
Rhett stiffens beside me. Hunter’s voice comes next, calm, low, the kind of voice that doesn’t rise unless it has to.
“Explain.”
I lean forward slightly, pulse ticking harder.
“I don’t get it,” Ivy whispers. “I want you both. I want you so badly. Sex with you is… it’s so good. But then sex with Landon is good too. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Hunter chuckles, a rough sound that vibrates through the monitor. Rhett curses under his breath and pushes his chair back as he starts to stand.
“Wait,” I bite out. The word is sharp, sharper than I mean, but it stops him. My pulse hammers, steady and loud in my ears.
He looks at me, eyes hard, but I don’t move. I don’t need to explain. Not when her voice is spilling through the speaker like this, unguarded, raw.
Hunter again, coaxing. “Explain more. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
There’s a rustle, fabric against fabric. Then Ivy’s voice again, soft, uneven, like she’s fighting herself to get the words out.
“When you touch me…” she whispers, “I can’t think. I can’t breathe. It’s like my body just… breaks apart under your hands. Both of you. The way Rhett pins me down, the way you stretch me open and edge me until I’m begging. I ache when you’re not inside me. My whole body just… aches.”
The words scrape through the cheap plastic of the monitor but still manage to pour molten into my bloodstream.
She draws in a shaky breath. “And it doesn’t stop when it’s over. Even when I’m lying there sore, wrecked, I’m still wanting. Still hungry. And I hate it because…” Her voice falters, then steadies. “Even after. Even when I’m with you, I think of him.”
Her pause is sharp, cutting right through me.
“Landon.” My name, whispered like a secret. “I think of him when I’m with you. I think about his mouth between my legs, the way he bites when he kisses me, how rough he gets like he’s trying to fuck the air out of my lungs. And it makes me feel like I’m betraying you, but I can’t stop. I can’t stop wanting all of it.”
My grip tightens on the bottle in front of me. I’m staring at the blinking green light on the monitor like I could burn it out with my eyes.
Her whisper tumbles on, desperate now. “Rhett is slow sometimes, so careful, and Hunter, you’re—fuck—you’re playful, teasing, like you enjoy watching me fall apart. But him? Landon takes. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t wait. He just… fucks me until I forget my own name. And I want that, too. I want it all.”
A sound leaves me—low, rough, almost a growl—but I bite it back before it can escape the room.
On the monitor, her voice fractures. “So what does that make me? Am I some kind of pervert because I can’t choose?Because I want the softness and the sweetness and the way you worship me, but also the way Landon ruins me until I can’t walk straight?”
Hunter groans, deep and jagged, right into the speaker. “I’m getting hard just listening to you, baby.”
My cock throbs in response, thick and straining against my thigh. Shameless. Immediate. I shift in my seat under the dim light, every nerve lit up.
Her voice is smaller now, but no less raw. “So I’m not a pervert?”
Hunter’s reply is sharp with conviction. “Not at all. Don’t villainize yourself for desire. Desire isn’t shameful. It’s the truth of what your body needs. And your body”—a pause, then the faint wet sound of a kiss against her mouth—“is made to be worshiped.”
A soft, strangled sound escapes her throat. “Fuck,” she whispers.
Then his voice, rougher now: “How about I take you to the bedroom and help with that ache?”
