Chapter 18: Wrestling for Control
The silence in the garage was a living thing, thick and humming like the fluorescents overhead. Sadie’s heartbeat was a frantic drum against her ribs, slowing now to a heavy, ragged thud. The rough mat pressed its geometric pattern into her cheek. Rhett’s weight was gone, but the impression of him remained, a phantom heat along her back.
Strong hands turned her over. Not gently.
She blinked up at the blinding light, then at the two silhouettes blocking it. Rhett and Jace. Their breathing was as uneven as hers. Jace wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a slow, satisfied smirk spreading. Rhett’s face was unreadable, carved from shadow and sharp angles, but his eyes were locked on hers, blazing.
“Got your fight out, Brooks?” Jace asked, his voice a gravelly tease.
She couldn’t form words. Her body felt liquefied, spent, a strange cocktail of shame and raw, screaming satisfaction boiling in her veins. She tried to summon a sneer, a sarcastic remark, anything to rebuild the wall they’d just. All that came out was a shaky exhale.
Rhett moved first. He hooked his hands under her arms and hauled her upright in one seamless motion. Her legs buckled. He held her against him, her back to his chest, his arms like steel bands around her middle. She could feel the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her ass, a blatant, unsatisfied demand.
“Rhett,” she breathed, but it wasn’t a protest.
“Shut up,” he murmured into her hair, the words vibrating through her skull. His hand splayed across her stomach, possessive, anchoring.
Jace watched, the smoke from his forgotten cigarette curling up beside him. He took a final drag and crushed it under his boot. “She’s all trembly,” he observed, stepping closer. He traced a finger from her collarbone down between her breasts, his touch leaving a trail of fire. “Look at her. Completely fucked out and still wanting more.”
“I don’t—” she started, but Rhett’s hand slid down, palming her through the torn fabric of her shorts. She was soaked, swollen, hypersensitive. A sharp cry escaped her.
“You do,” Rhett stated, his voice low and absolute. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts and underwear, and with a rough yank, he tore them down her thighs. The cold air of the garage hit her skin, a shocking contrast to the heat flooding her core.
Jace’s eyes darkened. He sank to his knees in front of her, his hands rough on her hips as he pushed her torn clothing the rest of the way down her legs. She was exposed, pinned between Rhett’s immovable body and Jace’s focused intensity. Her heart hammered against her sternum.
“Hold her,” Jace said, not looking up.
Rhett’s arms tightened. One hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back against his shoulder, forcing her to watch. Jace didn’t tease. He dragged his tongue through her folds, a broad, wet, filthy stroke that made her arch violently against Rhett’s hold.
“Fuck!” The word was torn from her.
Jace ate her like a man starved. His mouth was relentless, lips and tongue and stubble working in a brutal, perfect rhythm. He sucked her clit into his mouth, and her vision whited out for a second, a scream lodging in her throat. Rhett’s hand left her stomach and clamped over her mouth, muffling the sounds. He bit her shoulder, a sharp, punishing pressure, as Jace fucked her with his tongue, deep and messy.
She was coming again too fast, a tidal wave building with no mercy. Her thighs shook around Jace’s head. He growled against her, the vibration pushing her right to the edge.
“Not yet,” Rhett commanded, his voice guttural. He pulled her back from the brink, his hand leaving her mouth to pinch her nipple hard through her thin tee. The sharp pain grounded her, held her suspended in a agony of need.
Jace pulled back, his chin glistening. He looked up at her, his eyes black with lust. “My turn,” he rasped. He stood, unbuckling his belt with hurried, clumsy hands. His jeans hit the concrete with a thud.
Rhett shifted his grip, turning her in his arms to face Jace. “Tell him,” Rhett growled in her ear. “Tell him what you want.”
She was panting, her mind a blank static. Jace’s cock was thick and jutting, flushed and ready. The animal part of herbrain took over. “Fuck me,” she whispered, the words raw. “Please.”
Jace didn’t need more invitation. He gripped her ass, lifting her effortlessly. Rhett held her upper body steady, his hands on her shoulders. Jace positioned himself at her entrance, the broad head dragging through her wetness.
“Look at me, Sadie,” Jace ordered.
She forced her eyes open, meeting his hungry gaze. He pushed in, a slow, brutal, inch-by-inch invasion that stretched her unbearably, perfectly. A guttural moan was torn from her lungs. Rhett’s thumbs dug into the tendons of her neck, a counterpoint of pain to the overwhelming fullness.
Jace started to move, shallow at first, then deeper, harder. Each thrust jolted her body, slammed her back into Rhett’s solid chest. The slap of skin on skin echoed in the cavernous space, mingling with their ragged breaths and her choked whimpers. Jace fucked her with a driven, desperate intensity, his hands digging into the flesh of her ass.
“You take it so good,” Jace grunted, his pace relentless. “Such a filthy fucking mouth on you, but you’re just a needy little cunt underneath, aren’t you?”
The crude words lit her up inside. She was hurtling toward another climax, her nails scraping against Rhett’s tattooed forearms.
Then Rhett’s voice, a dark promise against her ear. “My turn.”
He pulled her off Jace in mid-thrust, the sudden emptiness making her cry out. Jace stepped back, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat on his skin.
Rhett spun her around, bending her over the workbench. The cold, greasy metal bit into her forearms. Blueprints and tools clattered to the floor. He kicked her legs wider, his touch devoid of any tenderness. This was claiming.
He entered her from behind in one long, devastating stroke. There was no hesitation, no gentleness. He was bigger, and she was stretched anew, a fresh burn that quickly melted into a deep, percussive pleasure. He set a punishing rhythm, each drive of his hips slamming the bench into the wall with a metallic bang.
“This is what you wanted,” he snarled, his body curving over hers. “You push, and you get this. You understand?”
She could only nod, her face pressed against the cold metal, drool slicking the surface. He was everywhere, filling her, the scent of him—sweat and gasoline and man—overwhelming her senses. Jace appeared in front of her, his cock nudging her lips.
“Open.”
She did. He slid into her mouth, his hands tangling in her hair. She was filled at both ends, owned, utterly helpless between their rhythms. Rhett’s thrusts became more erratic, his breath hot on the back of her neck. Jace’s fingers tightened in her hair, his hips moving shallowly.
“Gonna come down your throat,” Jace warned, his voice tight. “Swallow it.”
Rhett’s hand slid around her hip, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing hard, rough circles. The triple sensation tipped her over. She convulsed around Rhett, a soundless scream against Jace’s flesh as her own orgasm ripped through her, violent and endless.
It triggered theirs. Jace jerked forward, spilling hot and bitter down her throat. She swallowed convulsively as, behind her, Rhett buried himself to the hilt and stilled with a roar that was pure release, his warmth flooding her, pulsing deep inside.
For a long minute, the only sounds were their gasping breaths and the relentless buzz of the light. Rhett slumped over her, his weight a heavy comfort. Jace slowly pulled from her mouth, wiping her lips with his thumb.
They disentangled themselves. Sadie’s legs gave out, but Rhett caught her before she hit the mat. He lifted her, cradling her against his chest like something broken and precious. He carried her to a ragged couch in the corner, sinking down with her in his lap.
Jace fetched a bottle of water from a mini-fridge, cracked it open, and handed it to her. She drank greedily, the water spilling down her chin.
No one spoke. Rhett’s hand stroked her hair, his touch surprisingly soft. Jace sat on the floor beside the couch, his head leaning against her knee, his eyes closed.
The aftermath was a blanketing quiet, a charged peace. Sadie’s mind, usually a riot of sarcasm and worry, was still. Empty. She felt scraped raw, every layer of defense annihilated. And instead of fear, a strange, solid warmth was settling in the ruins.
Rhett pressed his lips to her temple. “Mine,” he whispered, a hoarse, fragmented sound. It wasn’t a question.
She turned her face into his neck, breathing him in. She didn’t have the strength to agree, or to argue. But for the first time, the idea of belonging to something this fierce, this all-consuming, didn’t feel like a cage.
It felt like coming home after a long, cold war.