growls, and Lucifer’s hands come to my shoulders, trying to shove me away.
I back up against my husband, feel his warmth behind me.
His surprise.
His hands are still on my shoulders, but he doesn’t try to move me.
“Don’t hurt him,” I tell Jeremiah, forced to crane my neck back to meet his gaze. His fist is still raised, my husband’s blood over it. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes go to Lucifer’s fingers against my shoulders. “Don’t fucking hurt him.”
“Baby girl, I don’t need you to—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snarl to Lucifer at my back without looking at him.
His fingers dig in a little more against my skin, but I don’t give a fuck.
Jeremiah glances up at the ceiling, looking as if he’s begging for patience. I take the opportunity to plant my hands against his chest and shove.
But he’s like a fucking wall and he doesn’t move.
Instead, his bloody hand goes to my throat.
Lucifer’s hand darts out to Jeremiah’s wrist, trying to yank him off. “Get your fucking hands off of her,” he snarls, and I’m caught between them as Jeremiah steps closer.
J laughs, and he’s not holding me hard enough to hurt, but he bites his lip as he steps even closer, then says, “Why would I do that? That’s the exact opposite of what I want to do to her.”
The look in his eyes as he stares down at me makes my thighs clench, and I want to hate it. I want to hate him. Both of them.
But I don’t.
I just fucking don’t.
I love them.
I love them both.
“J,” I whisper, my voice rough, my hands still planted on his chest. I open my mouth to speak again, but I don’t know what to say.
How did we get here?
How did this happen to us?
Why did the world us fuck us so. Goddamn. Hard?
His eyes hold mine. “Baby,” he whispers.
Lucifer’s fingers dig a little deeper against my shoulder, and he still hasn’t let go of J’s hand at my throat.
“I need you to come back with me, Sid,” Jeremiah whispers.
I tense, waiting for Lucifer to say something. Waiting for him to shove me away.
But there’s silence.
There’s just fucking silence, and even Jeremiah is surprised. I see it in the way he looks past me, just for half a second, at my husband behind me.
The silence almost feels…worse.
Like he’s letting me decide. Like Lucifer is letting me run.
I can’t breathe.
“I…” I can’t speak, either. I don’t know what to say. What to do.
I glance at both of their hands so close to my throat. They’ve always been at my fucking throat, since the days we met. They’ve been at each other’s too, for reasons neither of them could help. Neither of them chose.
I feel my blood heat, seeing Lucifer’s pale fingers wrapped around Jeremiah’s tan wrist, his own fingers against my throat, feeling my pulse pick up speed.
Why am I like this?
It’s like I told Lucifer. They fucking broke me.
But the thing about being broken is no one expects you to be wholesome. You’re already in pieces. You can fuck everything up, and it’s all anyone will ever expect.
So when I look up through my lashes at Jeremiah, and his eyes dart to my mouth, and when I feel Lucifer tug me back, his hand leaving my shoulder to go to my hip, and I feel his cock digging into my spine, I don’t care.
I get to do this, because I’m dirty. I’m wrong. I can do anything I fucking want, and no one will think any less of me than they already do.
Fuck ‘em.
“Lilith.” My name from my husband’s mouth sounds like a warning.
I don’t care.
“We can either do this together, or not at all.” I can’t live without them both. I just fucking can’t.
Lucifer doesn’t say anything.
There’s just silence.
Nothing.
Then…Jeremiah’s hands cup my face as his tongue flicks against the seam of my lips. Lucifer reaches for the waistband of my shorts, pushing them to the floor.
Jeremiah breaks away from our kiss with a groan, crossing his arms and pulling his shirt over his head. I inhale his clean scent and place my hand on his bare chest.
Lucifer moves from behind me, pushing me against the wall as he stands in front of me, but he cradles my head with his hand so I don’t bang it against the wall, then his hand pulls at my shorts.
I have one hand on J’s bare chest, the other gripping Lucifer’s veiny forearm. He tugs down my shorts until they hit