Page 134 of Hymns of the Broken
His touch is warm, and every stroke of his thumb feels like a dare.
But I don’t react; I just continue to try to focus on the movie… But right as the fire starts under my skin from Riot’s touch, Jasper’s hand finds me on the other side.
His palm is heavy, claiming all the space just above my knee and dragging upward, the pressure lighting me up from the inside.
I try to swat their hands away, but they just dig their fingers in as if saying,’Nope, not going anywhere’.
My eyes snap back to the screen, pretending I’m paying attention, but the storyline has slipped away. All that’s left is heat, hands, and the tension that stretches so tight across my chest I swear I might break.
Riot’s fingers trace slow, lazy circles just above the edge of my shorts—teasing, maddening. Jasper’s touch is rougher, dragging higher until the hem feels like a joke, until my skin is lit up, every nerve sparking. I want to hide, but God, I want to be seen just as bad.
I shift, pressing my thighs together, but it only makes them bolder.
Riot leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “You doing okay, baby?”
God, that voice is a velvet threat wrapped around a promise I probably shouldn’t want. His fingers skate along the edge of my underwear, teasing, daring me to move, to react, to lose it here in front of everyone.
But I don’t even get the chance to answer. Jasper’s mouth brushes over the curve of my neck—hot, possessive, dangerous. “She’s fine,” he murmurs, the words half-growl, half-caress. “A little needy, maybe. But fine.”
My eyes flutter shut, a broken sound slipping from my throat. The movie’s still playing. Macee’s tossing popcorn at Jace. Someone’s laughing too loud. But all of that is background noise, drowned out by the feeling of beingtrappedbetween them—between fire and fury.
And I want it.
God help me, I want both of them..
I can’t seem to breathe—not the way a normal person should. My lungs are working, but it feels like I’m drowning in heat, in want, in them.
Jasper’s fingers drift higher, tracing the inside of my thigh. He pauses just long enough to make my pulse trip, then drags slow and firm right over my center—once. Just once. It’s enough to make every muscle in my body clench, like I’ve been plugged straight into a live wire.
And then he pulls back, casual, like he didn’t just set me on fire. His hand settles innocently on my thigh, as if nothing happened.
I’m still trying to remember what movie we’re even watching when Riot picks up exactly where Jasper left off. His touch slides in seamlessly, bolder, slower, crueler. He draws circles over my panties, feather-light but relentless, winding me tighter with each pass until my breath comes out in shallow, shaky gasps.
He doesn’t care that we’re surrounded. He moves like we’re alone, like no one else exists—like I’m not one second away from falling apart in front of everyone.
My hands clutch their arms, one on each, fingers digging in hard enough to hurt. My mouth parted in a silent gasp, eyes locked on the screen, though I couldn’t name a single thing happening in the movie if my life depended on it.
Riot’s lips graze the shell of my ear, his words a low rumble that slides straight through me. “Feel good, baby?” he murmurs, filthy and tender all at once. “You’re soaking through your shorts. Wonder what they’d all think if I slipped my hand inside—showed ’em just how wrecked you already are.”
A shiver tearsdown my spine, my whole body trembling under the weight of it.
Then Jasper’s there—his mouth brushing my temple, his voice a growl spun in silk.
“Let them look,” he mutters, possessive and certain. “They don’t get to touch. They don’t get to hear those sounds. That’s for us. Only us.”
A strangled sound slips out of me—something caught between a whimper and a curse—as I bite down hard on my lip to keep the rest inside. They’re not even touching me anymore. Both hands have fallen back, resting on my thighs like nothing happened. Polite. Casual. But it’s too late. My body is buzzing, nerves sparking, every muscle drawn tight and desperate.
Riot smirks, and I can feel it more than I see it.
Jasper doesn’t even look at me. He doesn’t need to. His thumb draws lazy circles just above my knee, a quiet promise that this isn’t finished.
I sit there between them, flushed, shaking, soaked through—barely holding myself together while the world around me carries on. Soda cans crack open. Jace’s voice ricochets off the walls. Laughter. Chatter. Life.
But I’m gone.
Riot’s fingers ghost along my inner thigh again, so light it almost aches. Not teasing. Just reminding me he could.
I try to clamp my legs together, desperate for something, anything—but Jasper notices. He shifts, his forearm pressing down across my thighs, pinning them open. Subtle. Deadly. A claim and a warning.
