Page 36 of Room Nine: Masters of Control

She narrows her eyes, apparently still pissed at him. “I was about to earlier.”

He grins. “Keep being sassy, and we’ll see how long we can drag this out.”

She slams her lips together and takes his hand.

Good girl. She learns quickly.

I follow behind them with O’Dell bringing up the rear.

“Do you want something to drink?” Kerr offers.

“Water,” O’Dell answers for her.

She spins around and looks at him. If she’s thinking about arguing, something on his face convinces her not to. “Water sounds great.”

No alcohol tonight.

Nothing to dampen the energy exchange between us. She needs to be one hundred percent connected to us until she passes out from sheer exhaustion, wrung dry from multiple intense orgasms.

That’s the plan, anyway.

We walk through the living room to a corner bar with an ice machine that makes fancy cubes. We each have our vices, the one or two things from our childhood we dreamed of having if we were ever rich and powerful. Fancy, crunchy ice is Kerr’s thing. So is the arcade room downstairs with a full-sized Tekken 3 and House of the Dead 2, as well as a couple pinball machines. I’m sure he’ll take her down there eventually, bend her over a pinball table, and fuck her until they get a new high score.

My vice is the heated pool out back. I love to swim and was working toward becoming a Navy Seal before PsySpecOps recruited me. And yes, I will definitely be cock-deep inside her in that pool one day.

Kerr hands her a glass of water.

She grins. “Crunchy ice?”

“We got a snow-cone machine, too.” He grins.

“I love crunchy ice. It’s my favorite thing about getting fountain soda at the corner market.”

Kerr slides his hand into her hair and pulls her lips to his. “I fucking knew you were perfect.”

I walk up behind her and slide my hand down the back of her jeans, gripping her belt loop and pulling her back from Kerr’s hypnotizing mouth. “Let’s go upstairs.”

O’Dell takes the ice water out of her hand and gives it to Kerr, then he swings her up into his arms, carrying her up the stairs. This is a six-bedroom, eight-bath house with a game room and weight room in the basement. Her bedroom has been sitting empty since we moved in, the only furnishing a custom made bed that is twenty-four inches wider than a California King. We knew we’d claim our woman someday, and she’d have the bed that could accommodate all of us.

Otherwise, it’s hers to furnish however she wants—not that she knows that yet.

We’ll spring that on her later.

“Can I ask a question that might be offensive?” Kyra asks from O’Dell’s arms.

“You can ask us anything and everything, Angel. We have no secrets from you.” I wink at her from behind his shoulder.

“Obviously, you guys have done this before.”

“Is that the question?” Kerr chuckles, pulling off her shoes as we enter the bedroom and tossing them over his head.

“No, I’m trying to set expectations.” O’Dell sets her down on the bed and takes a step back. The three of us stare down at her, probably resembling a pack of horny, hungry dogs—without the snarling and foamy mouths, of course.

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to do—” O’Dell starts.

“Besides edging,” I cut in.

“Besides that, but deep down, you want it. Or at least you will once it’s all over.” He smiles.

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