Entranced by the Basilisks (Monstrous Matches, #3)

by Lillian Lark

It's a lie. She’s the strongest person I know, she’d be fine no matter what. Now, if I didn’t have her presence in our apartment, I don’t know what I’d do. Cry probably. Hiding under the bed is also likely.

If I break, I break for him, but he’ll never know that. I may not be able to hide how my body reacts to him, but he’ll never know how much further his reach extends, how embedded he is in my very soul.

“If browbeating were a sport, you’d medal,”

Ari’s smile has a seductive edge to it. “We’ll take our time and go as far as you’re okay with. Would you rather experience us one at a time… or together?” I swallow, nerves tighten my throat, but I haven’t come this far to shy away now. I meant what I said before, I want to be attached to both of them. “Together,” I breathe. “I’ve just never…” “Me either,” Jasper says, and I stare. He’s removed the dress shirt he’d worn to the club and my lips part at the sight of his defined chest. There are some scars, but they don’t detract from his beauty. “And I’ve never done such a thing with people I’ve meant to keep,” Ari says, and I watch Jasper’s muscles tense in jealousy that he doesn’t let his face show. My smile cracks through my nerves. “Well, at least one of us has some experience. I’d hate for us to end up in the emergency room in an ill-conceived pretzel.”

This is a topic that I’m going to need to think through. Meditate and some shit. I’m not supposed to swear my undying devotion because of their cocks… but Jesus Christ their cocks have me overcoming all my holdups Green Eggs and Ham style. Would I, could I, have a threesome in the back of a car? Why, yes. I would and could have a threesome in a car, on a boat, or with morning breath. Everything stops rhyming after that point. It’s terrifying how easily all my reservations have fallen, to wonder if I’m the one who is more invested in this working out now. It’s not just because of the dick… dicks. Okay, it’s not only because of the dicks.

“And then he berated the poor boy for losing the three vases in shipping!” Dad exclaims. Ari’s smile is sharp, and he confides to Emilia. “I think it should be stated that that poor boy is in his second century. No children were verbally abused.” My father shrugs. “Time hasn’t helped the man’s absentmindedness.” Ari lifts his cup in agreement. “True.”