Prologue
ERIN
The bass thrums through the walls of the nightclub’s VIP room, pulsating inside my entire body—or maybe that’s just my heart, hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.
Kit’s mouth is on mine, hot and demanding, his fingers tangled in my hair hard enough to make my scalp tingle. Behind me, Rhys presses close, his chest hard against my back. His lips find the curve where my neck meets my shoulder and it undoes me. I am completely, helplessly surrounded, and it is the closest thing to power I have ever known.
The champagne has gone to our heads, leaving us reckless and giddy. Inhibitions melt away, and the world shrinks to this dimly lit room, bathed in purple light. It’s just the three of us now, caught in this inevitable, intoxicating dance.
“Jesus, Erin,” Kit exhales sharply, his breath hot on my mouth, and I crush his lips with mine, kissing him fiercely.
Rhys’s hands slide up my ribcage, possessive and claiming, thumbs grazing the underside of my breasts through the thin fabric of my black dress. “You’re killing us, Erin. You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you? Walking around in this goddamn dress all night, taunting us, making us imagine how it would feel to strip it off you.” His fingers dig into my flesh.
I did know. I had chosen the black velvet deliberately. The low neckline. The hem stopping at my thighs. I had wanted to walk in and watch them lose their composure.
My hands drop, feverishly tracing the rigid lines of Kit’s chest, diving down over the taut, quivering muscles of his abdomen. I go lower, driven by an insatiable hunger. When I grip him through his jeans, he growls into my mouth, a primal sound that vibrates through my very core. He’s rock-hard already, thick and pulsating against the denim, every inch of him demanding release. His hips jerk forward, instinctively seeking more friction, grinding against my palm with a desperate intensity.
“Fuck—” he chokes out, tearing his mouth from mine. His blue eyes are obliterated, pupils dilated to black pools. “You’re going to make me come in my jeans like a teenager.”
“Could I make you?” I dare him, gripping him intentionally. “Could I make you lose control, right here, right now?”
Rhys laughs low and dangerous, but it dies in his throat the moment I reach back with my other hand and find him. He’s just as hard and thick, and I suddenly feel powerful. I’ve done this. I’ve reduced both of them to this. Two hands, two men, both of them unravelling.
“Jesus fuck,” Rhys growls, fingers digging into my hips like he’s trying to brand me. His teeth find my earlobe, clamping down with a force that sends electric shocks through me. “You’re driving us out of our fucking minds.” His voice is a ragged whisper, a confession torn from his chest. “You have no fucking clue what you do to us.”
Kit’s hands find my waist and grip so hard I know I’ll bruise. He yanks me against him and I feel exactly what I do to him, hard and insistent against my stomach. His mouth drags down my jaw and throat, and he sucks at my pulse point until I whimper, until I feel it in my knees. “You make us want to do filthy things to you. To ruin you completely,” he rasps.
”Then ruin me,” I gasp, the words barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
Rhys’s response is guttural. His hand clamps onto my thigh, shoving my dress up, fingers tracing the edge of my underwear with urgent insistence. “Be sure about this, love,” he growls, but his fingers are already slipping beneath the lace, and when he feels the slick heat of my arousal, he let’s out a deep groan. “Fuck, Erin. You’re drenched.”
“For you,” I gasp as his fingers slide through my folds. “For both of you.”
Kit captures my mouth, kissing me hard. I can feel the groan building in his chest before it escapes him. I stroke him harder through his jeans and he tears his mouth from mine, forehead dropping to my shoulder, breath coming out ragged and unsteady against my neck.
“I want to taste you,” Kit whispers. His hands find my face, tilting it up. “I want to drop on my knees right here and make you come on my tongue while Rhys watches and can’t do a damn thing about it.”
Rhys’s fingers trace a relentless circle around my clit, once, twice, sending jolts through my body. My knees threaten to give way, but he holds me up, his other arm a steel band across my stomach, pinning me against him. “I want to bend you over that couch and fuck you until your voice is raw from screaming our names.”
My hand pumps him faster, and he growls, a sound torn from his chest as his hips buck forward, fucking my fist. “I need to see Kit slamming into you while you choke on my cock,” he rasps, voice ragged with desperation. “We’re going to take you in every way we can, over and over, until your legs give out and you can’t even stand.”
”Yes,” I gasp, all pretences incinerated. “Please, all of that.”
Kit’s fingers seize the zipper at my back, wrenching it down in a brutal stroke. Cold air lashes my bare spine, and then his mouth is on my neck again. “You’re a fucking goddess. I can’t believe you’re real and that you’re finally ours,” he breathes against my skin.
“You are dripping, love. You want this as badly as we do, don’t you?” Rhys groans.
I’m grinding back against Rhys’s hand now, shameless and desperate. My hands move on them both and I feel them respond and the knowledge of what I’m doing to them makes me grind harder. Kit’s breath catches. His hand closes over mine, tightening my grip to show me exactly what he needs.
“That’s it,” Kit says, low and broken. “God, just like that—don’t stop—”
“We need to leave.” Rhys’s voice comes out wrecked, barely recognisable, even as his fingers drive deeper, curling in a way that makes my vision white out at the edges. “Right now. I need to get you home.” A rough exhale against my neck. “You in our bed and out of this fucking dress.”
“Our bed,” I repeat, and the words detonate somewhere low in my stomach. His fingers are still inside me and I clench hard around them.
“Yes,” Kit says. His hand finds my breast, thumb dragging slow across my nipple. “Our bed. Our girl. Say it back to us.”
“Say you’re ours,” Rhys murmurs against my ear, his fingers driving deeper, his other hand seizing my jaw, turning my face toward his. “I want to hear you say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, and the confession tears out of me like something I’ve been trying to hold back for months. “Both of yours. I’m both of yours.”
Kit’s head drops back against the door with a thud, jaw clenched, a muscle feathering in his throat. “We really need to leave,” he says, the words barely audible. “Right now, this second—or I swear to God I’m going to fuck you against this door and I don’t care, I genuinely don’t care—”
“Then take me home,” I breathe.
Rhys’s fingers pump faster, pushing me to the very edge. His voice is low, fierce, and his eyes are burning right through me. “We’re not just playing, love. When we finally take you—and we definitely will take you—it’s going to be fucking transcendent. It’s going to obliterate every other moment you’ve ever known. You’re going to be utterly consumed, completely at our mercy.” His lips brush my ear and his voice drops to a harsh whisper. “And you’re going to take it all, aren’t you? Every last shattering inch of it.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes—anything, everything, please—”
“Come for me first,” he says, low and certain, and then his thumb finds my clit and presses down hard at the exact moment his fingers hook inside me, and the combination is devastating. “Come on my hand, baby. And then we’ll take you home and won’t stop until you’re sobbing for us to.”
I moan and Kit’s mouth finds mine, swallowing the sound that tears out of me as I shatter, my spine arching so hard it hurts, fingers twisting into fabric and skin. I can barely register anything beyond the white static behind my eyes. They’re both groaning, low and rough, and I can feel how much they want me. How hard they’re working not to take more than I can give right now. Rhys drags his mouth across my shoulder, saying things that should embarrass me. Kit doesn’t let me go.
“Perfect,” Kit breathes against my lips. “You look so fucking perfect when you come.”
Rhys withdraws his fingers punishingly slow and I watch, still trembling, as he brings them to his mouth. His eyes stay locked on mine the whole time. “Christ. You have no idea what you do to us.” He leans in until his mouth is at my ear. “Five more times tonight. At least. I need to taste you properly.”
I’m shaking so hard I can barely stand. I’m still coming down, still sparking, and yet somehow my fingers are already at Kit’s belt.
“Your turn,” I say, though my hands won’t stop shaking.
He catches my hand and brings them to his lips. “Not here,” he says and I can see how much restraint it’s costing him. “At home. In our bed where we can take you apart piece by piece.”
Rhys tugs my dress back into place, his touch deceptively gentle as he drags the zipper up. “Where we can spread you out and devour every inch of you,” he adds. “Where we make you scream our names.”
Rhys cracks the door, peers out, then waves us through. Outside the VIP room, the music hits like a wall. The club is a sea of bodies and strobing light but I’m barely aware of any of it. Kit’s arm is around me, and Rhys’s hand is at the small of my back, steering me through the crowd.
People stare. Let them.
“You know what’s waiting for you when we get home?” Rhys murmurs as we push through the exit into the cool night air. “That big bed. Kit and me. And We’re not stopping until you’re begging us to.”
“I won’t beg,” I say, still trembling from the aftershocks.
Kit laughs, adjusting his grip on me as Rhys opens the door of the taxi. “We’ll see about that, love.”
