Page 75 of Kept

“Use your tongue,” Enzo prompts, and I gasp as his hand reaches down, cupping my breast. He rolls my nipple between his fingers, tugging and pulling softly. “She tastes like honey.”

Ryder’s face looks almost tortured as he glances up, and our eyes lock. The ghosts of our last conversation are in his gaze, and I hold it. “Ryder,” I croak. “Please.”

I’m not sure what I’m asking for. I don’t know if I want him to stop, or if I never want him to stop as the flames curl at the base of my spine. He hesitates, his hand pausing where he presses into me before he dips his head.

The first swipe of his tongue lifts my back from the bed. Maverick and Enzo press me back down, and my eyes lock on to Maverick as he cups my cheek. He looks hungry, his blue eyes traveling across my face, tracing my features as Ryder groans. The sound vibrates against me, and I cry as his hands move under me, lifting me and holding me to his face like an offering.

The pressure builds, and builds, the pain almost forgotten as Ryder’s tongue dances over me. His teeth graze, just a little, and the precipice feels so close I start to sob.

“Hush, Zella,” Maverick murmurs. His eyes flicker down the bed, and they’re full of heat as he turns back to me. “This is about pleasure.”

I can’t speak, my mouth open in a silent scream as Ryder gently bites down on my most sensitive area and Enzo pulls on my nipples, twisting them as I spiral into an abyss of feeling. Wave after wave of pure ecstasy wash through me and they never stop moving, their hands constantly on me until I sink back into the bedding with a depleted gasp.

Ryder pulls back, and Enzo releases my nipple with a final graze as I sag into the covers.

“How do you feel?” Maverick asks me, and I blink.

“I think I’m dead.” Ryder’s lips curl into a small smile as I stare down at him, and he shakes his head.

“Oh, little thief. If anyone is dead here, it’s me.”

27 - Ryder

MaybeI’mnotdead,but I’m going to hell.

Becausefuck, if Enzo wasn’t right. Zella tastes like heaven, and his face is smug as he follows me into the bathroom. I rinse out the washcloth, setting it to the side, and he props his hip against the sink like we’re about to have some juicy gossip session and finish it off with BFF friendship bracelets.

“Don’t,” I mutter before he can say anything. I’m not in the mood.

He clicks his tongue. “She was in pain. We helped. Don’t get your little martyred ass in a twist over it.”

Pressing my lips together, I scrub at my hands. Enzo mercifully shuts the fuck up, but it only lasts for a minute before he starts again. I swear to God, he’s spoken more in the last week than he has in the past fucking decade.

She’s changing all of us.

“Why are you fighting this so hard?” he murmurs. When I flick my eyes to him, he’s staring at me in the mirror. “We’ve never been ones to take the moral high ground.”

Shrugging, I reach for the small towel to dry myself off. “Never a bad time to start.”

“Bullshit.” When I try to leave, he gets in front of me, shoving me back. “You feel clean yet?”

My head jerks back like he’s slapped me. “What?”

He nods at my hands. When I glance down, they’re bright red. “You use any more hot water, you’re gonna take your skin off. It’s giving me ideas, but probably not healthy.”

I didn’t even notice the temperature of the water. I’m so used to washing with it as hot as possible. “Drop it.”

“No.” He pushes me back again. “This will work. But it needs all of us.”

I swallow. “No, it doesn’t. Four’s a crowd, Enzo. Normal relationships—,”

He barks a sarcastic laugh. “You serious? None of us are fuckingnormal, Ry. You. Me. Maverick. And not her, either. Conventional isn’t in our fucking vocabulary. And she needs you.”

“Sure she does,” I say drily. “I bring so much to the table.”

He leans in close. “You want a fucking comparison? I’m apsychopath, Ry. I’ve made my peace with it. Ain’t never gonna change. I can’t do any of that mushy shit. Wouldn’t even know where to start.”

He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, and I shrug. “Maverick—,”

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