Page 180 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
He collapses on top of me, pressing his feverish forehead into the curve of my shoulder, his heart hammering against mine.
We lie there in the tangle of sheets, slick with sweat, breathing the same air.
“I love you,” he whispers into my skin.
“I love you too,” I reply, my voice wrecked.
We stay like that for minutes, just existing in the safety of the aftermath.
Then, the front door opens.
“We come bearing gifts,” Owen’s voice calls out from the living room. “And by gifts, I mean caffeine and a very expensive encrypted router.”
“Bedroom,” Ethan calls out, not moving an inch.
There’s a pause. Then footsteps.
Owen leans against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips, though his eyes are warm. Asher stands behind him, holding a stack of equipment, entirely unfazed.
“We leave you alone for twenty minutes,” Owen teases, taking in the scene—the clothes on the floor, the sweat, the way Ethan is still draped over me.
“We were having a strategic alignment meeting,” Ethan says, lifting his head but not pulling out. He meets his brothers’ gaze. The shame is gone. The fear is gone. He’s the Alpha again.
“Did we reach a consensus?” Asher asks, stepping into the room and setting the equipment on the dresser.
“Yes,” I say, reaching a hand out toward them. “Get over here.”
Owen kicks off his shoes and climbs onto the bed. He settles against the headboard and pulls me back, sitting me up slightly so my spine is flush against his chest, his hands immediately finding my breasts. Ethan adjusts his grip on my hips, remaining anchored between my legs as I lean back into his brother.
“He can keep your lower half,” Owen whispers against my ear, biting the lobe. “I want your mouth.”
Asher rounds the other side of the bed. He’s more methodical. He removes his shirt, folds it neatly, and climbs onto the mattress. He kneels beside us, fixing me with that intense, analytical gaze.
“Status report?” Asher asks, his hand sliding down my leg, his fingers trailing fire.
“Overloaded,” I admit, turning my head to catch Owen’s lips while Ethan rolls his hips, starting a slow, lazy rhythm.
“Then let us absorb the excess variable,” Asher murmurs against my skin.
He leans down and kisses me. Asher’s kisses are precise, consuming. He explores my mouth while Owen’s hands tease my nipples, and Ethan rocks his hips against mine.
I’m surrounded.
“I traced the payment,” Asher murmurs against my lips, breaking the kiss but staying close. “While Owen was buying the food. I found the link between Greg and a shell account registered to Markus Vance’s personal estate.”
“Do you have proof?” Ethan asks, his eyes snapping open, focusing on his brother.
“Definitive,” Asher confirms, his hand moving between my legs, finding the spot where Ethan is joined with me, rubbing my clit. “We have him.”
“Good,” Ethan growls, thrusting up into me, hitting a spot that rips a gasp from my throat. “Tomorrow, we will destroy him. Tonight… tonight we celebrate.”
“Celebrate the expansion of the Unit,” Owen grins, his hand sliding down to rest on my stomach, right between us all.
“To the expansion,” Asher agrees.
The conversation dies, replaced by sound and sensation. Ethan picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, more demanding. Owen’s hands work their magic on my chest, while Asher focuses entirely on my pleasure, his fingers working in rhythm with Ethan’s movements.
I’m the center of their universe.
