Page 43 of Dukes of Peril

Sy leans forward, elbows propped on his knees, and trains his eyes on his knuckles. “Can I…” His jaw works awkwardly. “...watch?”

My eyebrows lurch upward. “You want to watch Nick fuck me?”

“Just watch,” he insists. His eyes are edged with the same mania I see in Remy’s sometimes, hands discreetly adjusting the notebook.

I flounder around a response, knowing, of course, that he watched us that day at the river house, when Nick was fucking me out of that… episode. But that was different. We were all sleeping in the same bed and there wasn’t exactly anywhere else to go. It wasn’t planned that way. If it could have been, it never would have happened.

But I think of it now. Sy tracking us with his hot, blue eyes as Nick peels his brother’s t-shirt off me. I think of watching that flush come over his earlobes, the way his eyes get heavy when he’s horny–not just physically, but mentally. I think of him seeing Nick push into me, maybe even touching himself to the sight of it, and suddenly, I’ve gone from wet tosoaked.

Taking a breath, I square my shoulders. “On one condition.” Sy perks and I jerk my chin toward the sandwich. “Eat something, and promise you’ll get some sleep tonight.”

His confused eyes whirl to the sandwich, and for a second I think he might just cram the whole thing in his mouth in one go. Instead, he nudges it aside, saying, “I’ll… make something new. And get plenty of sleep.” The bewilderment is still in his eyes when he says, “Promise,” but I know he’ll keep it.

Over the last few days something is becoming clear; my men need me to take care of them, the same way I need them to care for me. It’s not typical or traditional, sometimes it’s outright depraved. But it’s on our terms, and that means more than anything.

I’m engrossedin a novel when Sy wanders up the staircase an hour later, laptop tucked beneath his arm. Most of the lights are off, but the glow of the city through the clockface and the small lamp that illuminates my little mattress nest are enough. Sy pauses at the top step, staring at me, perhaps waiting for me to call it all off.

I spare him only a glance before returning to my book.

Wordlessly, he settles against the rail that overlooks the living area, opening his laptop. He’s changed out of his clothes into nothing but a loose pair of sweats, the screen casting a blue glow over his bare chest. He’s close enough–barely five feet from the mattress–that I can see him become immediately engrossed in his work again, fingers tapping away at the keyboard.

It’s not long before Nick comes, though.

Unlike his brother, he stalks right up here with the same wildness in his eyes I’ve come to expect. He’s in nothing but a pair of boxers, all of his ink on full display. I know he doesn’t spot Sy at first just by the way Nick holds himself, loose and lazy in a way that tells me tonight is going to be of the slow and quiet variety.

When he notices a third presence, he freezes, some of the tension returning to his spine. “Hey,” he says to his brother.

Sy closes the laptop. “Hey.”

The two of them watch each other for a long moment. Nick’s eyes snap to me, then back to Sy, the gesture perfectly clear.

Sy sets the laptop aside and extends a leg, saying nothing.

Nick reaches up to ruffle the back of his hair, which might be the closest to awkward I’ve ever seen him. “You’re staying,” he guesses.

Sy’s face hardens. “Is that a problem?”

“Depends.” Nick looks between us, eyes narrowing questioningly. “Am I still getting some pussy?”

“Jesus.” I roll my eyes, closing the book. “Yes, Nick.”

He exhales, the tension dropping out of his shoulders. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

I’m only half inclined on the mattress, my back propped against the stone wall in the corner, so when Nick bends down to grab my ankles, I know what’s coming. I still let out a squeak when he wrenches me down the bed toward him, kneeling between my legs.

He bends over me and I spread my thighs for him, eyes fluttering at the feel of his palm on my temple, smoothing back the hair. “Where were you earlier?”

I skate my fingers along his ribs, resisting the urge to arch up into his body. “Clock.”

He makes a dismissive sound, nudging his nose against mine. “When are you going to learn that thing is a piece of junk?”

I chase the promise of his mouth, breathing, “It gives me something to do.”

He gives me a slow, wicked smirk. “Baby, I’m right here.”

When he finally kisses me, it’s downright filthy. His tongue coaxes mine to him, tangling wetly together as he rocks his hardness into my center. He doesn’t let his hand slipping up my shirt interrupt it. He pulls and tugs until he can slide the shirt over my breast, exposing me for his greedy palm.

It’s only then that he licks a hot path across my cheek to my ear. Gruffly, he whispers, “You really want him up here?”

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