The real shit might be scary as fuck, but it's hella worth it.

“I love you,” she whispers, and my grip on her tightens.

Something I learned quick is that watching us perform turns both girls on. Sex with Peyton is always good—fucking fantastic—but when I’m coming off the stage, the girl can’t keep her hand off me. It’s the same as when we practice at home—they both love it and practice used to get cut short by one of us making out with one of the girls before someone ended up naked.

“When you’re rich and famous, you still going to want me?” she murmurs, and even though she’s teasing, it sends a fission of unease down my spine.

“Always, Fish. You’re it. My always. You forget me, and walk away and I would love you still.”

She pulls back, and stares at me, eyes wide and searching. “Do you think I could forget you?”

I shrug. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll remember for both of us, and I’ll make you remember too.”

She kisses me then, that deep kiss that I fucking love, the one she controls with her hands in my hair and teeth nipping at my lips before her tongue tangles with mine and everything falls away in a wave of sunshine and sugar and everything that is her.

“Want you,” she pants when she pulls back.

It’s all I need to hear. I’m moving before she kisses me again, and I hear Scott laughing behind me, but it barely registers as I carry her through the bar to a dark hallway. She squeaks against my throat, her teeth digging in just a little as I bump into a door and then we’re spilling into a stockroom that’s almost pitch black, and I’m letting her slide down my body, cupping her ass as she falls.

I fucking love her ass in those skin tight jeans she wears when I perform. She’s got a corset-looking top on over the jeans, baring a smooth sliver of her belly, and my fingers skim it before I skate lower and cup her, grinding the heel of my hand into her through the jeans.

“Not playing fair,” she gasps, and I groan as her hands cup my erection. Stroke and tug in that way she has—not too hard, but rough. Enough to remind me that she wants this just as bad as I do.

She unzips my jeans and drops to her knees, taking me deep in her throat before I can process, and then I can’t.

The girl is amazing in bed, but I don’t think I’ll ever get over the sight of her on her knees, her lips wrapped around my cock. She licks at my shaft, her hand slipping between my legs to cup my balls and I struggle to keep still. My hand is on her head, my fingers twisting in her hair and she relents, the suction of her lips tightening as she slides down, until my dick hits her throat.

“I’m going to come,” I mutter.

She pulls back and strokes my dick. “That’s the point.”

“Not like that.” I say pulling her up. “As much as I like fucking your pretty mouth, I want your pussy.” Her eyes close and she sways closer. I unsnap her pants and work a hand into her jeans and the door behind us opens.

It’s dark. Dark enough that they don’t know we’re here. But I can see her, all wide eyes and flushed skin.

And I can see them. For a heartbeat, I consider saying something. But she’s trembling against me, and I know Scott well enough to know he wouldn’t care.

I lift an eyebrow and move my fingers, brushing against her clit, and she jolts against me. I lean into her ear, and whisper, so low, I almost don’t hear it, “Stay or go?”

She shudders, and wet warmth is covering my fingers as I slide them into her.

“Stay,” she breathes against my ear.

I smile against her skin, shoving my fingers into her, and grinding against her clit. “Be quiet, perfect girl,” I whisper.

Then I twist us, so she is against the side wall. In the darkness, we can both see them.

“Watch,” I murmur, and she shivers, her eyes on our best friends as Scott drops to his knees, shoves Lindsay’s skirt up, and covers her with his lips. Peyton’s whole body shudders, her pussy clenching on my fingers as I lazily finger-fuck her, and I grin. Lindsay is biting her hand, trying to stay quiet as he licks her cunt, but it’s not working. Tiny noises are leaking out, these gasping little whimpers, and his name, and it’s hot as hell.

And Peyton is so fucking wet. I pull my hand out of her pants and she makes a quiet mewl of displeasure, her hips rising and falling restlessly as I work her jeans down to her knees. I glance over at Scott and Peyton. Her head is thrown back, one leg hooked over his shoulder.

I lean into Peyton, and lick her once, feeling her body go tight as she bows off the wall toward me. I grin, and her hands find my hair, pulling me to her. She’s on tiptoes as I go to work, my tongue sliding through her, nipping at her clit, searching for the little friction I’m not giving her, and then I do, pinching her clit lightly as I tongue-fuck her and she’s coming, her pussy clenching in waves around me.

“Like that, baby?” I hear, and I freeze as Peyton shudders, thrusting against me, her orgasm tripping into another. Lindsay answers Scott in a low murmur, and I hear him groan before he kisses her.

Fuck. Peyton isn’t the only one turned on by this shit.

I stand quietly, and lift Peyton just a little.

Lindsay screams as Scott slams into her, her back thudding against the wall, and he groans again, that noise I’ve heard a million times when we shared women. Peyton is gasping as I grab her ass and fuck her slow and silently, her eyes wide and staring at Scott thrusting into Lindsay.

It’s hot as fuck that she’s getting off on this, but she is. She’s clenching and coming, these continuous orgasms that fall into each other, and she’s so wet I can feel it on my balls. I grit my teeth and drop my head into the crook of her neck, biting her shoulder to keep silent.

“Turn me,” Linds demands suddenly and he laughs, slowing. He pulls out and she moans, her voice rising to a shriek when he shoves his fingers into her.

“You’re demanding,” he mutters, and she whimpers, pushing back against him.

He slams into her and she shrieks, a noise he cuts off with a curse and a hand across her mouth, yanking her head back by the hair and hissing, “Quiet, sweetheart. Or I stop.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she mutters.

Peyton makes a little huff of air, and I slide a hand between us, toying with her clit as I fuck her. “You like listening to them, sweetheart? Watching Scott fuck her. You love it.”

Her eyes find mine, and I see guilt there—mixed with the glassy desire is conflicted guilt, and I lean into her, kissing her hard and fast. “I love everything about you, Fish. Even the dirty girl who plays rough and likes her sex dangerous. You want him to watch me fuck you?”

Her body shakes, answering me for her as she shatters into another orgasm, and on the other side of the room, Lindsay whimpers, a long, drawn out noise as Scott hisses her name. I look over at them—we both look—and I come as Peyton pulls me into her, biting my chest hard as she rides out the climax, and we watch them orgasm.

It’s hot and dirty, and for a long moment, the room is silent except for the sound of us breathing. Scott moves first, sliding out of Lindsay, and I swallow my groan as he reaches between her legs, cleaning her up with his hand before he brings his fingers to his lips. She watches as he cleans his fingers and Peyton gasps when Lindsay goes up on tiptoes to kiss him.

Scott’s head lifts, and I shift Peyton, shielding her before Scott slaps Lindsay’s ass. “Come on, babe.”

She grumbles but they put themselves back together and she slips out.

Just before he does, his gaze darts to us, too knowing and serious.

Then the door shuts and closes off the noise of the bar. I slip free of Peyton and she redresses quickly and gives me a curious look. “What was that last thing?”

I shrug. “Scott’s a kinky bastard.” She arches an eyebrow, and I grin. “Guess I can’t really point fingers on that account.”