Chapter 169: Jake
She arches again, this time with a sound I’ve never heard from her — quiet, needy, like she’s trying to keep it in but can’t. Reid’s kissing her slow and deep, and I know that kiss, know it by the way her fingers curl in his hair and her body melts against his.
My hand doesn’t stop moving.
I hook my fingers just under the lace of her panties, brushing along her hip, and her whole body shivers. Not from cold — from pressure, from the promise of it. Her breath catches against Reid’s mouth, and he groans, like her reaction goes straight to his bloodstream.
I glance up at her. Her eyes are closed, lips parted, a tiny crease between her brows like she’s overwhelmed. Good. I want her overwhelmed. I want her ruined for anyone but us.
I trail my mouth from her thigh to her stomach, not rushed, just a slow ascent. Her skin’s so soft, damp from sweat now instead of rain, her pulse fluttering under every kiss I leave behind. When I reach the underside of her breast, I stop. Just hover there, breathing her in.
“Maddie,” I murmur, and she opens her eyes, barely.
She looks at me like I hung the stars.
“I’ve wanted to taste you since the first day you walked onto that damn boat,” I admit, my voice rougher than I mean for it to be. “Wearing that little green hoodie and those leggings that made Reid cuss under his breath the moment you turned around.”
She lets out a shaky laugh, breathless, cheeks burning red. “I thought you two hated me.”
“I did,” Reid says behind her, voice gravel-low, his mouth pressed to her ear. “For making me want you that badly. Still do.”
I slide her panties down her hips slowly — not off, just low enough to expose the dip of her pelvis, the curve between her thighs, the place we both ache to taste and take. Her breath stutters, and I watch every micro-expression on her face. The anticipation, the nerves, the hunger.
Reid’s hand slides over her stomach now, slow and possessive, splaying just under her ribs — careful not to press too hard where she’s still bruised. His other arm wraps under her to keep her supported, close, safe. But this... this is a claiming.
She tips her head back against his shoulder, throat bare. I lean up and kiss just under her jaw, just above his hand, a perfect place only we’ll ever get to touch. Her chest rises hard, like she can’t get enough air.
“I need—” she starts, but can’t finish.
“We know,” Reid says, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “We’ve got you.”
And we do.
My hands curl around the backs of her thighs as I pull her closer to the edge of the bed, her back still cradled in Reid’s arms, her legs parting just enough that my shoulders slot between them.
She looks down at me with a look that’s all fire now. No hesitation. No fear.
I grip her thighs tighter.
“I’m not stopping,” I tell her, voice low, locked onto hers. “Unless you want me to.”
She shakes her head, already breathless. “No. Please—”
Reid kisses her hard again, swallowing the rest of that plea.
And I lower my mouth to her, slow but relentless. My tongue flattening, going from bottom to her pulsing, needy clit.
Her thighs tense under my hands — not in fear, not in resistance. In need. I feel it, the tremble, the way she rolls her hips once without even realizing it. I don’t rush. Not when I have her like this. Not when she’s lying between us, trembling for us, trusting us. I do the movement over and over again, kissing her in between, worshipping how fucking sweet she tastes.
Every soft sound she makes — muffled against Reid’s mouth or escaping raw and unchecked into the space between us — feeds something wild in me.
I lift my head just enough to look at her again. Her face is turned to Reid, her lips parted, and he’s whispering something against her ear. I can’t hear it, but it makes her whimper. And I know it’s filthy, because I know Reid. I know how dark his thoughts get when it comes to her.
He's probably telling her that, when the time comes, our cocks will ruin her. That he can't wait to burry himself into her. That she tastes so good for me.
His eyes meet mine over her shoulder, sharp, unreadable. But we don’t need words.
I know what he’s saying: keep going. Give her more.
My hands slide up, gripping her hips again, fingers digging into the soft skin just above her thighs. She rocks against me, instinctively, and her hand reaches back, grabbing onto Reid’s cock through his pants without thinking about it, her small hand not covering even the half of it, which let me know she wouldn't cover half of mine either.
Reid groans into her neck, and his hand snakes up to her jaw, turning her face toward him. His kiss isn’t soft this time. It’s hungry, full of teeth and tongue and a deep growl that vibrates through her.
She gasps into his mouth, arches into mine.
I want to lose myself in her.
I want to drag this out, keep her on the edge for hours, make her beg—but I also want to see her break. I want to know what she looks like when she lets go completely, when she can’t form words, just our names, just—
“Jake—” she whimpers, breath stuttering.
My name from her lips like that? I lose a piece of myself every time.
Reid breaks the kiss, barely an inch from her mouth. “You sound so good when you say his name like that.”
She turns her head quickly, meets Reid’s eyes, dazed and wanting. “Yours too,” she breathes. Her hands grips him tighter.
“Say it, then,” he whispers. “Let me hear it.”
“Reid,” she gasps, voice wrecked, needy.
That’s it. That’s the moment. The air thickens. Her body arches again, trembling under both of us, and I feel her shake, feel her tighten under my mouth. It hits her in waves — quiet at first, then stronger, until she’s clinging to both of us, voice lost to the storm still raging outside.
We hold her through it. Let her ride it out between our bodies, our mouths, our hands.
And when she’s finally still, breath catching in her throat, her eyes closed, Reid kisses the corner of her mouth and I press one last kiss to the inside of her thigh.
She opens her eyes, barely, looking wrecked and perfect and ours.
She looks like she wants more.
Like she needs more.
It’s written in the way her eyes glisten as she flicks her gaze between me and Reid — lips parted, breath uneven, pupils blown wide. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair a tangled halo around her face, and her thighs shift, just barely, like she’s trying to close them — or maybe keep them open.
But then Reid says it. That low, dark voice of his, thick with control.
“Remember what I told you in your room.”
She blinks. Swallows.
And nods.
Slowly.
Her voice is a whisper, nearly swallowed by the storm still howling outside.
“When you take me…”
She trails off.
God, she doesn’t even have to finish the sentence — the way she says take me is enough to make my stomach flip and every cell in my body strain toward her.
Reid leans in, his mouth by her ear.
“When I take you,” he says, voice like gravel and fire, “when we take you… it’s going to last for hours.”
She lets out this soft, broken sound — more breath than voice — and my hand curls into the mattress to keep from grabbing her right then.
“It’ll be loud,” he continues. “It’ll wreck you.”
A pause.
“So not here. Not tonight.”
Her lips tremble and she nods again, even though every inch of her is screaming the opposite.
I know. Because I’m screaming too.
Because she’s only in her underwear, and she’s between us, and she’s so soft, so warm, so wet, and it would take so little to—
I exhale hard and reach out, brushing the backs of my fingers along her jaw.
“You’re not the only one suffering, Trouble.”
She looks at me with wide eyes, and then bites her bottom lip again — that damn lip — like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Then why are you stopping?” she whispers.
Reid’s jaw tightens. I feel my own control slipping. Both of us are still so fucking hard it hurts.
But this — this moment — it means something. Not just a hookup. Not some brief escape from a storm. Not a thing that ends in the morning.
This is everything we’ve been holding back.
So I press my forehead to hers, and murmur,
“Because when it happens, you’ll feel it for days.”
She exhales shakily and leans in again — not for more, just… for closeness. For comfort. For us.
And we give it to her.
We lie back down with her between us, her body curled to Reid’s chest, her fingers tangled in my shirt. Her breath slows, little by little. She’s still trembling — from the storm, from the adrenaline, from whatever we just lit inside her.
I don’t know if any of us will sleep. But for now, we’ll hold her. Keep her warm. Keep her safe.
And next time?
Next time we won't stop.