Page 99 of Triple Play
Wyatt’s fingers reach the seam of my legging, trace along it with maddening lightness. I shift slightly, trying to give him access without being obvious, and his hand slips beneath the fabric, finding bare skin.
My breath catches.
“You okay?” Teddy’s looking at me with concern.
“Fine. Just—” I cough. “Wrong pipe.”
Wyatt’s fingers slide lower, finding heat and wetness, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making a sound.
Grant is staring at me from across the table. He knows. I can see it in his eyes. The way they’ve gone dark. The way his jaw is clenched so tight I’m surprised his teeth don’t crack.
He’s not touching me. Can’t reach me from where he’s sitting. And he looks furious about it.
Under the table, I reach for Wyatt, palming his thigh. Slide my hand higher until I find him hard and straining against his jeans.
His eyes flash. Warning or permission, I can’t tell.
I palm him through the denim, slow and deliberate, and watch his face carefully blank out.
“So Grant,” Teddy says, completely oblivious. “Season’s going well?”
“Yeah.” Grant’s voice is strained. “Really well.”
I squeeze Wyatt gently and he makes a sound he tries to cover with a cough.
Wyatt’s fingers are working me now, slow circles that are building tension I can’t release. I’m going to come. Right here. At this table. With my brother three feet away.
The thought should horrify me. Instead it just makes everything hotter.
Jordie’s shifted closer, his hand finding my other thigh under the table, squeezing possessively.
So I’ve got Wyatt’s fingers between my legs, Jordie’s hand on my thigh, and my hand on Wyatt’s dick, and Teddy is talking about playoff predictions like this is a normal family dinner.
“Ellie?” Teddy’s voice cuts through the haze. “You’re being quiet.”
“Just enjoying the steak.” My voice comes out breathier than I intend.
Wyatt’s thumb finds my clit and I nearly drop my fork.
“You sure you’re okay? You look flushed.”
“I’m fine. Just warm. The heater’s up too high.”
Wyatt’s hips shift slightly under my hand, seeking more pressure. I give it to him, stroking him through his jeans with careful, hidden movements.
Grant’s glaring at Wyatt now. Pure jealousy radiating off him because Wyatt gets to touch me and he doesn’t.
“More potatoes?” Jordie offers cheerfully, like his hand isn’t gripping my thigh hard enough to bruise.
“I’m good.”
“You sure? You look like you could use… something.”
I’m going to kill him. Slowly.
Wyatt adds a second finger and I have to disguise my gasp as a cough. The tension is building, coiling tight in my core, and I’m so close. Too close.
Not here. Not now. Not with Teddy right there.
