“Right. Tomorrow. Later, Mistress girl.”
She didn’t sign off.
She asked, “You doing okay?” in a tone that stated clear she’d somehow read that he was not.
Diesel took another slug of beer, looking at the yard before he answered with a lie, “Awesome.”
Sixx didn’t respond for long beats, and when she did she didn’t hide she was thinking he was full of shit.
She also didn’t push it.
“Okay, D. Later.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Tomorrow.”
With that, he disconnected in case she changed her mind about pushing it, dropping his phone hand to his thigh, lifting his beer hand to his mouth and throwing back another bolt.
When he took the bottle from his mouth, he held it in front of him, studying it like he’d never seen a bottle of beer before in his life.
And then it wasn’t the bottle of beer he was seeing.
It was that ring. Molly in her bridesmaid’s dress. Sunflowers. Molly under him with her auburn hair all over the couch, Maddox at his back with his cock planted inside.
Maddox over him at the Bolt with his tongue in D’s mouth.
He blinked hard, pushed himself up and muttered irately, “You gotta get your shit tight, man. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
And with that, he walked into the house. He went to the kitchen and put his beer and phone on the island.
Then he walked down the hall.
He stopped in the door, put his shoulder to the jamb and stood there, watching Maddox moving inside Molly, both of them naked, going at it missionary, her arms around his shoulders, the fingers of one hand cupping the back of his head, her legs around his hips, their mouths as attached and active as their privates.
It was beautiful, completely. Their nude bodies, their movements, all the ways they were connecting, the noises they were making muted by their kiss.
They’d be happy without him.
They’d still have it all . . .
Without him.
In tandem, they broke that kiss and turned their heads to look at Diesel.
“Don’t mind me,” he said quietly.
“Come here, honey,” Molly urged.
“Nope,” he said on a gentle smile to their girl.
“Come here,” Maddox commanded.
Diesel looked into his eyes.
“No.”
He watched those black eyes flash then he watched Molly flatten a hand on the side of Mad’s face, pulling his attention to her.
“He wants to watch,” she whispered.
“Whatever,” Maddox muttered irritably, and before Molly could respond to the irritation, he kissed her again.
He hadn’t stopped moving inside her throughout and he kept doing it, D kept watching, pleasantly feeling himself go from semi-hard to fully erect, until shit got critical.
Only then did he move forward, toward the bed.
He gained both their attention but whispered, “Don’t look at me.”
Molly shoved Mad’s face in her neck.
Mad pounded into Molly’s body as her head arched back.
D sat at the side of the bed below their hips.
“Hitch a leg,” he ordered quietly.
Maddox bent a knee, digging it into the mattress, going at her harder.
Instantly, Molly cried out with her orgasm, her legs visibly tightening their hold on her man.
That was when Diesel reached in.
Gripping Mad’s balls, he gave them a squeeze and then he watched, now achingly hard, as Maddox’s back, neck and head arced, his mouth opened, and the sudden sound of the grunting roar of his climax struck the room like a blow.
“Yes,” Molly breathed as Diesel rhythmically wrung Maddox’s balls dry, Mad finding that rhythm and using it, bucking into Molly with each clasp, a sharp groan accompanying them, mingling with Molly’s whimpers, the dents at the sides of his ass clenching in and releasing along with the tempo.
Diesel watched, having fallen into it, his hand around those balls, that ass moving, Molly’s legs circling the show. He was so spellbound by it all, Maddox had stopped buried inside their woman, and D kept massaging those balls, holding their weight in his hand, memorizing the feel, what was hitting his eyes.
He moved his hand and slid it flat along the inside of Mad’s outstretched thigh, then back up, over his ass and along Molly’s shin from ankle to knee, fascinated with the path his touch was taking, the feel of them against his skin.
Suddenly, his eyes moved from Molly’s knee to Molly’s face and he saw her looking over Maddox’s shoulder to D.
Mad had his mouth working at her ear.
But Molly had her gaze locked on D.
And what he saw in it made him straighten immediately from the bed.
“I’ll order a pizza,” he declared, striding toward the door.
“D,” Molly called.
“Diesel,” Maddox said.
He ignored them and walked out of the room.
He had Molly’s laptop open but hadn’t even booted it up when Maddox prowled into the kitchen wearing jeans and nothing else.
He got close, smack in D’s face, as nose to nose as he could get two inches shorter than Diesel.
It took a lot out of him, but as Mad invaded his space, D didn’t move a muscle.
“What the fuck was that?” Maddox growled low.
“What the fuck was what?” Diesel returned, also quiet.
“You know what,” Maddox clipped.
“If I knew what, I wouldn’t ask,” D pointed out.
Maddox jabbed a finger to the hall that led to their room without taking his eyes off D’s.
“That.”
“You tell me you didn’t get off on me squeezing you dry, I’ll call bullshit,” D retorted.
“We both wanted you in on that,” Maddox shot back.
“It was your gig.”
“It’s never our gig, it’s our gig,” Mad snarled.
Diesel shook his head. “Man, I just got back from the gym where I didn’t fuck around. I wasn’t feelin’ it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not in to watch and maybe lend a hand when the time came, which is what I did.”
“You got home ten minutes before, took a fuckin’ call and only showed when the festivities were nearing an end.”
“So?”
“So, why didn’t you come back when you got home?” Maddox asked.
“Does it matter?”
“If it didn’t matter, I wouldn’t ask,” Mad used D’s earlier syntax to hurl it back, and Diesel, having a thin hold on his temper, felt it start to prick through.
“That’s not the first time I wanted nothing but to watch,” Diesel reminded him.
“I called you in,” Mad reminded D.
Diesel kept at the trip down recent memory lane. “And I said no.”
“I own you, Diesel,” Maddox declared. “So that’s not your call.”
“When I’m not feelin’ it, it’s not your call.”
“When you’re not feelin’ it, you don’t come to watch and you don’t get so hard, you make an instant fade mark in your jeans,” Maddox fired back. “So it was my call, asshole.”
That was true.
Still.
“What’s up your ass?” Diesel growled.
“Not you. That’s one thing that wasn’t up my ass,” Maddox replied.
“You want my cock, drop the jeans and I’ll oblige,” Diesel returned.
Maddox’s black brows went up and he called him on his earlier lie. “So you’re feelin’ it now?”