Give Me More (Salacious Players Club #3) (62)

Rule #26: If your heart won’t get over them, let your dick do it for you.





Drake



When I wake up, I’m no longer on the outside of this little sandwich. Instead, I’m the little piece of meat squeezed between two pretty pieces of very naked and sexy bread. Isabel must have gotten up sometime in the middle of the night and crawled back in on the end, pushing me toward her husband.

Whether she did this out of convenience or because she thinks by pushing us together, it’s going to make Hunter get over all of his bisexual hang-ups or me get over my stubborn anti-relationship hang-ups, then she bit off a little more than she can chew.

I mean…I’m not mad about the warm, muscled body pressed up against my back. And I’m definitely not mad that I get her all to myself with the way she’s curled up in my arms like my own personal teddy bear, but I am a little annoyed by how much I don’t hate this.

I never sleep with the people I screw. But these two are different, and I’m starting to forget why. They’re different because they’re my friends…yeah, that’s it. They’re different because these are the two most important people in my life. My family. The only two people I love…wait, fuck.

Hunter stirs, and it’s obvious he doesn’t realize I’m the inside of this spoon when he stretches his naked body and drapes an arm over my waist. Once he feels my six-three frame, instead of Isabel’s petite five-foot-one, he tenses. Oh God, this is awkward. His…dick is against my ass. His morning wood hasn’t quite kicked in yet because he’s still soft, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

Hunter and I might be toying with this weird new dynamic to our relationship, but we’re definitely not at the…rub your hard cock on my ass phase yet.

He lifts his head and looks at me through one half-open eye. I glance over my shoulder and since this is a double instead of a king, there’s not a lot of room for me to give him.

“Morning,” I mutter.

“Morning,” he grumbles. Then, as expected, he quickly rolls out of the bed. It makes me wonder if he was actually ready to wake up or if forcing himself out of bed was worth not having to be pressed up naked against me.

I do happen to catch a glimpse of him as he bolts to the bathroom, and I can’t be certain if that was morning wood or the effects of our sleeping arrangement that had him suddenly sporting a hard-on that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“What time is it?” Isabel mumbles, barely moving against my chest.

“Time doesn’t matter here. We’re in Vegas, baby.”

“Breakfast…” She moans.

I smile down at her, remembering just how much energy she exerted last night. I’ve never seen her like that before, wild and ravenous. I really did mean what I said before…Isabel is the best. I hate myself for the way I feel about her, my best friend’s wife, but she makes everything easy and fun. I never have a single complaint when I’m with her and the sex is always out of this world. I may not be a settling down kind of guy, but I swear if I had a chance to settle down with this one, I’d be a fucking idiot to pass that up.

Thirty minutes later, the three of us manage to drag our tired asses down to the breakfast buffet. We eat and laugh and talk and everything feels so normal…that it’s actually strange. Like we’re just us again, but not the same us we used to be because now…we fuck.

After breakfast, Isabel drags us through the city, seeing every hotel, every sight, every stupid tourist shop, and I can’t fucking help myself, but I’m happy.

She’s wearing a long plastic cup filled with green margarita strapped around her neck as we meander through The Venetian. I catch myself reaching for her, holding her hand, and she lets me nuzzle her under my arm. My eyes cast in Hunter’s direction, but when he catches us cuddling and her making me take a sip of her giant drink, he smiles. This part definitely wasn’t in his plan. He just wanted to watch us fuck…so when did it turn into this? When did we become part of a relationship? And how do I feel about this?

I mean, I don’t hate it. Isabel fits so nicely under my arm, her head not even reaching my shoulder. I never really got off on this alpha/mine thing with other people, but when Isabel tucks herself against me, something primal wakes up inside me, and it feels good. I actually imagine myself protecting her, laying out some asshole who dares to touch her—like the incident in Austin. I want to be the guy responsible for keeping her safe.

“We should go to the real Venice. I bet it’s even prettier,” she says while we wait in line for the gondola ride.

“I bet it’s crowded and touristy,” Hunter replies. “But if you wanna go, Red. We can go.”

Then she glances up at me. “You in?”

I can’t help myself. I lean down, pressing my lips to her temple. “I’m in.”

To be fair, I would have always been down for a vacation with them. It was hard enough getting them to go on a honeymoon without me, and that was before Hunter made the big bucks, so it was just a small trip to the beach, but every other trip, they’ve dragged me along.

When we reach the front of the line, I start to pull away. “You two go.”

Isabel looks up at me in shock. “Nice try, big guy. Three’s company.” Oh yeah, she’s drunk already. Her words slur a little, and it’s adorable.