Page 168 of What We Brave
Blake's breath is warm against my inner thigh and then his mouth finds me and?—
"Oh." The sound comes out before I can catch it.Eloquent, Mitchell.
"There she goes," Reid whispers. He's watching my face. Not kissing me anymore—justwatching, his eyes tracking every twitch andbreath like I'm the most interesting thing he's ever seen. "God, look at you."
I've never— this is— oh god.
My brain gives up on sentences. Finally.
Blake's tongue drags slow and deliberate and my whole body jerks. Reid's arms tighten around my shoulders, pulling me harder against his chest.
"Breathe, baby. You're holding it."
I suck in air I didn't realize I'd been hoarding. "I can't—it's?—"
"You can. You're doing so good." His fingers push the hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear. "You have no idea what you look like right now, Laine. Seriously. No idea."
"Reid—"
"I'm just saying." His voice has gone raspy. "Blake."
Blake hums against me in response and the vibration makes my vision blur.
"She just made this sound," Reid tells him, like he's reporting breaking news. "This little—you missed it. Do that again."
He's narrating. He's actually narrating this to Blake while Blake is?—
Blake's rhythm shifts. Slower. More deliberate. Every nerve ending I own lights up and my hips jerk off the cushion.
"Easy," Reid murmurs. Not to me. His hand slides under my shirt, his palm warm and broad against my breast. "Let her catch up."
"She's right there." Blake's voice vibrates against my skin. His fingers dig harder into my hips. "Tell me you're right there, Laine."
"She's right there," Reid confirms, watching my face. "I can see it. Her eyes just—yeah. Right there."
They're talking about me. Over me. Around me. Comparing notes. Running play-by-play commentary on my unraveling like it's a sport. And I'm just lying here melting into the couch like a human puddle and I have never been less in control of a situation in my entire life and I do not care.
My hands fist in Reid's shirt. I try to hold on to something—anything—but there's nothing solid left. Just heat and pressure and two voices that know exactly what they're doing.
"Please." I don't even know who I'm asking. Both of them. Either of them. The universe. "Please, I need?—"
"We've got you." Reid's mouth is hot against my ear. "Let go, baby. We've got you."
"Give it to me," Blake says against me. His grip tightens on my hips. His rhythm changes—more insistent, more focused?—
Reid's thumb rolls across my nipple and his lips brush my ear. "You're so beautiful. You know that? You're shaking and you're beautiful and I am so fucking in love with you?—"
I shatter.
The orgasm tears through me so hard I forget where I am. I'm vaguely aware of sounds—mine—and my back arching off the couch, and Reid's arms holding me together while Blake works me through every wave.
"That's it," Reid's saying, his voice cracking. "That's it, baby, we've got you, you're okay?—"
He doesn't stop talking. Blake doesn't stop moving. Neither of them lets go until I'm shaking and boneless and making a sound that's probably embarrassing but I'm too far gone to care.
When I come back to myself, I'm trembling. Wrung out. My hands are still fisted in Reid's shirt. I think I might have torn it.
Good. He has too many terrible shirts anyway.
