11. Shatter Me

11

SHATTER ME

SOPHIA

A heartbeat later, Mazen's leaning in, then pressing his mouth against mine, tilting my world off its axis.

I half expected our first kiss since I told him I remembered him to be hard, punishing, and angry. Surprisingly, when my mouth opens, inviting him in, his tongue is slow, tentative, like he's unsure of the next step in the dance our mouths are choreographing. His tongue traces not only my mouth, but my soul as well, as his kiss sings through my veins in a melody that I'll remember for the rest of my life.

When he pulls back, his eyes linger on mine, a silent question. He's seeking permission. I bite my bottom lip—an answer to his question—and his eyes flick down. In a rush, his mouth moves to my chin, lips searing a path down my neck, setting my body aflame with need. My mind revels in the hungered prose of each pass of his lips. Senses drugged by the touch of his lips when they continue their survey of my ivory skin. Each lap of his tongue is a stroke of beautiful torture .

"I want you," I say eagerly, climbing onto his lap, straddling his stone-hard body.

I'm baiting him; he knows it.

Recalling the passion we shared in Chicago, I whisper a fragment of what he told me back then, "Morals be damned," I say followed by the purr of his name. "Mazen. Show me it's okay to be broken. Then piece me back together. Let this new memory of us be the glue holding me together."

As gentle as the touch of a feather, Mazen takes my jaw in his hand, planting kisses on each bruise that lingers on my face. I swallow hard, savoring the tenderness of his expert touch. I recall being held in his arms, feeling both safe and sought after. As young as we were back then, our souls called to one another just like they are once again.

He's intruded in my life like a hot tide that I want to drown in. I want to bask under the moonlight with Mazen filling me, claiming me again. Reminding me that I'm not glass.

Rekindling old, forgotten feelings, I press forward, my core rubbing against the swell in his sweatpants. A deep bellow booms from his parted mouth as he leans forward and licks from my collarbone then up my neck in a solid stroke.

I grow impatient, achy, and exhausted. Letting out a faint sigh, feeling drained and unsatisfied, I realize that he's not going to drive me into oblivion like I so desperately need. While my body grinds against his, legs wide, open for entry, Mazen doesn't advance.

What kind of ethical rock star is he?

"Aren't your arms tired from holding a grudge against me?" I watch for his reaction as the question leaves my mouth, hesitating only momentarily before I depict an ease I don't entirely feel. Choosing my words carefully, I offer him something he hasn't asked for, yet I know he needs. "I'm sorry I didn't remember you when I first saw you again. I know how deeply that hurt you."

His usually stone-cold eyes sparkle with reserve.

"It would have killed me, ya know. I just don't understand why you didn't say anything before. Why'd you let me share a bed with Ollie and then Cannon and never say anything?"

His silence speaks volumes.

I shrink from the cold of his gray eyes, feeling suddenly ill-equipped for this conversation.

"I chose my love for music over the chance to get to know you." He frowns, though the rest of his mask is expressionless. It's unnerving. "Ollie said he banged you that night in your tattoo studio, and then he told me your name. For a split second, I felt like I could breathe. For a moment of suspended time, my muse was within reach. Then, I could see it in your eyes—your aversion. You really didn't recognize me, and then you slapped me."

With an apologetic smile, I say, "I'm sorry, but you did basically call me a whore."

"I was jealous. I'm sorry too. I wanted you to remember. More than anything though, I wanted to hurt you as badly as you hurt me." The captivating picture he paints is etched with so much more pain than I've ever seen on his usually casual character.

Placing my hands on his shoulders, I stroke them. I glide up his neck and then settle with my hold on either side of his strong jaw. "I don't think I could force myself to forget you now if I tried."

"Promise? "

One firm word, spoken into the night air, holds as much power as a lightning bolt before an earth-shattering storm.

"I promise"—I kiss the side of his mouth—"to never forget you again." Another kiss is planted on the tip of his perfect nose. "To make you feel as good as you make me feel." I hover over his mouth, ready to offer him the biggest promise of all. My palms sweat, and my stomach bottoms out, but I find the words that I know he needs to hear. My take on lyrics pours from my parted mouth. "I promise to let you in, as long as you let me."

A soft brushing of his fingers against my cheek has me settling onto his lap fully. "Now that I have you in my arms, nothing will be able to tear you from me. Leaving you behind that morning was a mistake."

The air in my lungs feels like it's getting vacuumed out.

"I will never ever make that same mistake again. If you want me, I'm yours. Wholly. Just know that I don't half-ass anything, Rosella. If I claim you, like my friends have, it's only you."

My body tenses briefly. I hope he doesn't notice.

It's wishful thinking because he says, "I know you're with them too. I'll learn to accept it, understand it. But this"—he takes my hand, placing it over his heart, on top of a Kings of Jupiter logo on his chest—"beats for you and only you."

The tenderness in his expression stuns me as his eyes drink me up, undressing me under the moonlight hovering above us.

"Mazen …" I cast my eyes downward. Ashamed of the one lie I'm still keeping. It's as big as a vast ocean between us. I know it will be our demise. I can feel it in my bones. Though I can't stomach telling him the truth. Forcefully sw allowing it down, I pause to catch my breath, feeling like I just finished a sprint though my legs haven't moved. Fears of him finding out about Roman increase by the second. The sudden nagging in the back of my mind refuses to dissipate.

My gaze lowers once more, like his voice.

"I'm going to kiss you—again. I've been so damn envious of Ollie and Cannon. I've never wanted to hurt them before. Genuinely hurt my best friends for having something I was denied. Don't deny me anymore. I have time to make up for. Years of it."

"You denied me. That night in the hot tub, you walked away."

We're interrupted by the sound of the glass door sliding open. Our mirrored gazes dart to the patio door as Oliver folds his arms across his bare chest in a swift movement. He leans against the wall before he crosses his feet.

With a quick shake of his head, I can feel the words he's biting back— Took him long enough.

"No one invited me to this wake and bake. I'm not intruding on something, am I?" A friendly, bantering smile forms when he pushes off the wall, then carelessly strolls toward us.

There's always something warm and comforting about Oliver's presence. Even now, as I'm caught straddling his best friend's lap, there's nothing but teasing amusement rippling through the air.

I feel the weight of him as he sits down on the lounger behind me, his knees now budded up against Mazen's. Suddenly, being trapped between the two of them is the only place in the world I want to be.

Mazen's mouth opens, then closes, like he's trying to decide what card to play. It's not like him to bite his tongue. I've only ever seen the irrational side of him that says what he wants, when he wants. He seems to be weighing his options now, choosing the right words.

Then, as he regains his natural composure, he speaks in the standard jesting tone I've come to like, which causes my legs to tighten around his waist. "Yes, you fucking are, and you know it. Unless you have a little cunt as sweet as Sophia's in those sweats, then you should just hightail it back inside."

"I have something that tastes just as good, don't I, Fireball?" Oliver nudges my hair with his nose, breathing in deeply from behind me.

My head bows. I'm frozen. Scared to move and pop the bubble of lust I'm sandwiched between. Having Ollie and Cannon is one thing. This—being the tether between Ollie and Mazen—feels forbidden, taboo even. To my understanding, there isn't a bisexual bone in Mazen's body. I wonder if he could be swayed to share me with Oliver. To ignore what society deems as right and wrong and just follow what our bodies need, what they long for.

I long to be filled by both of these men at the same time. My core wants to be the space where they connect.

"That's debatable," a deep timbre booms, grasping our attention, and beckons it toward the glass door once more.

We watch as Cannon shuts it behind him.

In all his glory, under the midnight moon, he stalks toward us, as naked as on the day he entered this world.

"For fuck's sake," Mazen whines. "Cover that anaconda up. How the hell do you walk after taking that, Ollie?"

I feel Oliver's head as it shakes with laughter. When I glance over my shoulder, my eyes meet Oliver's before I shrug in mock annoyance at our coy little friend Mazen. It's funny that he thinks Cannon tops. Based on appearance alone, I totally get it. I don't fault him for automatically assuming that the beefy, broody drummer is the one swinging dick and laying it down.

Mazen's assessment is as far from the truth as aliens not being real.

"Get the hell out of here." Ollie smiles easily. "You think I'm the bottom?"

If it wasn't for the awkward silence dangling long and hard between us, like Cannon's thick third leg as he nears, I wouldn't be clamping my own jaw near as tightly as I am.

"Shit. You think Ollie's man enough to take this?" Cannon slides his palm up and down his rock-hard girth, like he's holding a sub crafted by sandwich artisan, Jimmy John, himself.

I glance back over my shoulder at Ollie, who is now arching an eyebrow, nodding at the taunt in his lover's masculine voice. My eyes pivot back to Mazen, and hand on the Bible, I see him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing at the slowest pace I've ever seen. His eyes are glued on his drummer's junk, and holy-freaking-Christmas-morning, have I hit the trifecta of foursomes?

Oliver's voice booms over my shoulder when he says, "Is that a dare?"

Cannon's barely visible blond eyebrow is rounded when he mocks, "Is that an acceptance?"

"Get the fuck out of here. You know damn well I don't back down from any bet. I own that tight little hole of yours. You'd feel empty without me balls deep in it," Oliver says with a slow, seductive smile that is meant to remind Cannon that Oliver's the alpha in their pack. "As much as you've grown to like being in charge, I am and will always be the one forcing your giant body to surrender to mine."

"This is fucking strange." Mazen shakes his head, seemingly breaking the spell Cannon's junk had him under .

He didn't even try to hide his blunt assessment. Maybe he's more on board with things than he even realizes.

Smiling leisurely, I utter, "It's really not strange if you open your mind up to it. We were made to enjoy our bodies. Who's to say that enjoyment has to solely come from someone of the opposite sex?"

"She's high," Mazen clarifies, brushing my comment off at the same time Cannon sits down behind Oliver.

We're a train of bodies, uncertainty, and lust.

"Night Moves" by Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band fills the night air around us from the speaker Cannon is controlling from his phone.

"Fitting tune," I chime. "Anyone down for a swim?"

We all slide into the pool a couple of minutes later. We're splashing, laughing, and cutting the breeze.

Only the man in the moon and the four of us are privy to the palpable charge between our exposed flesh and souls when the sound of our collective laughter fades and is replaced with harsh breathing.

It dawns on me then, as I'm submerged neck deep, that the ache in my core that woke me up is still there, nagging for release. It doesn't help that three of the hottest men on earth are watching me with predatory stares, no doubt sensing the change in mood as well.

"Like something you see, boys?"

Leave it to Oliver to fill the silence. "I think it's safe to say," he starts as his head swivels to meet his friends' eyes, all glossed with need and honed in on me. "We're far past seeing something we like."

"We're entering uncharted territory here," Mazen states the obvious.

"Are we though? If memory serves, the only time we don't ignore this pull to each other is when we're wet." The drummer says before he swims closer to my body and pins me to the side of the pool's wall. "What is it about water activities that draw us to you, Sophia?"

The hot tub incident.

My thighs unconsciously rub together with the recollection of one of the hottest nights of my entire life.

Oliver, with his naturally tanned skin, swims toward the edge of the pool cutting through the water with ease like the jellyfish tattooed on his penis, effectively cutting my thought short. "Ten dollars says the reason our girl is dripping wet has nothing to do with our midnight swimming excursion."

I swallow hard.

Our girl.

Our girl. What is it about that simple statement that has my body lighting up from the inside like a match has been struck?

My eyes meet Cannon's, then Oliver's, before I straighten my head and meet Mazen's heated glare. Playing coy, I ask him from a few feet away, "Am I your girl too?"

Water sloshes around his chiseled frame as he plunges under the water's line. I'm encased by my men, one on each side of me as Mazen glides through the water, only to break the surface directly in front of my face a heartbeat later.

Beads of water cascade down his beautiful face. When his thick eyelashes open, dark eyes land on me. I'm held captive by his intense stare, so much so, that I barely register his movement when his large palms reach forward and grip the back of my head. He pulls his body tight against my own using my head as leverage. Neither Cannon nor Oliver budges an inch. We're all pressed so tightly together that even our breathing seems to be in unison.

As if a rubber band has snapped, Mazen's mouth roughly lands on my own. He kisses me…no…he devours me, searing the answer to my question into the depths of my soul without words. With each lap of his tongue, my body grinds against him. I don't even have to worry about treading water because I know that the three of them will keep me suspended above the water.

I'm safe , I think to myself.

Our lips don't break for what feels like an hour. When they finally do, Mazen and I are still pressed up against one another. He whispers, "You're everything," and suddenly his acknowledgement of my question surges me closer to him. I wrap my legs around his torso, begging for friction.

"I need you," I admit before turning my head and giving attention to Cannon and Oliver. "I need one of you… all of you. Please."

"Lift her up," Cannon addresses Mazen, who picks me up and out of the water as if I weigh less than a pillow.

I'm sitting on the edge of the pool when Oliver jumps out and rushes to a small storage bin. He comes back with two towels in hand. He lays out one on the concrete then gestures for me to lay back on it, the other he rolls underneath my head like a makeshift cushion.

"You're going to need to work up to taking all of us at the same time, Soph." Cannon's husky voice bellows through the night, yet is still low enough that I'm not afraid of Lacey hearing from the other side of the glass door. "Until you're ready for that, I know that I, personally, cannot wait another second before tasting that sweet pussy on my tongue again."

I don't even have a moment to swallow Cannon's words and take a breath before his fingers pull my panties down my legs, and his tongue slides through my now exposed slit. The warmth of his touch explodes on every nerve ending in my body. I fall back into the feeling of being worshiped, not giving two shits that I'm at their mercy.

At their mercy is the only place I want to be right now.

"Cannon," I moan, lips parted in ecstasy, eyes closing.

When I open them, Mazen is hovering above me. His dark-steel eyes dart between my parted mouth and down to where Cannon's head is pressed against my core. The faint sound of him lapping my folds and sucking on my swollen clit create the most seductive melody I've ever heard.

Oliver's voice cuts through the darkness, always the light in my life. "He was never good at sharing." He lowers himself so that I'm now looking down at his head and, without missing a beat, his mouth is nestled close to Cannon's as both of their mouths glide over me in a smoldering dance of their tongues.

The sight alone has the muscles in my lower belly growing taut.

"Look at me," Mazen cups my cheek. "I want to see the moment you come apart. Don't move your head." He leans forward and kisses me chastely before pulling back an inch and watching me explode.

Tingles stir in my core seconds before the feeling of someone's mouth—either Cannon or Oliver, I honestly have no idea who—pulls at my clit with their teeth. I explode. My legs press together as quake after quake becomes of my lower body. Fireworks ignite through me with one of the most earth-shattering orgasms of my life.

I'm still reeling on the wave of euphoria when Mazen lowers himself down the length of my exposed body. My pussy is still pulsating when I feel his warm tongue lapping up my cum. "I'm always cleaning up after these two," he says nonchalantly, like his friends didn't just turn my world upside down poolside.

My eyes close then reopen to now find Oliver and Cannon watching me intently.

"Will you be able to sleep now, Fireball?" Oliver smiles and then adds, "Should we come up with a rotation schedule or something?" His attempt to be funny breaks the contentment we've finally found.

"Don't be an asshole," Cannon says, pulling himself from the pool. "I'm going to bed." Before he makes it to the sliding glass door to head inside, he turns. "I call Mondays and Fridays."