Octavia's War by Tracy Cooper-Posey

for he moved to stand behind her. His hands settled around her waist. “Go ahead,” he told Ángel.
    Ángel smiled and reached for her zipper. “It’s so short, next to ours,” he observed and pulled it down. Remmy’s long fingers tweaked the button, sliding it undone.
    Octavia’s jeans didn’t sag the way theirs had done. They were stretch jeans and hugged her hips and thighs and even her ankles. As the zipper parted, the jeans pulled to either side as the tension was released, revealing her belly and the little panties beneath.
    Ángel slid his hands into the opening of the jeans and eased them down to her upper thighs, fully revealing the panties.
    They were not practical lingerie in the slightest. The front of them was a scrap of lace in a diamond shape, while the rest of them was four cords running from the top edges of the diamond over her hips, to meet at the center back. Another cord ran down between her ass cheeks.
    “Oh…my lord,” Ángel whispered.
    “We have come a long way from pantaloons, have we not?” Remmy said, his tone one of approval.
    Ángel crouched down in front of her and for a moment, his gaze lingered on her mons, beneath the lace. Heat leapt in his eyes. “Hold her up while I get these off.”
    Remmy’s hands tightened and she was lifted. Ángel tugged at the narrow hems of the jeans, pulling them over her heels. The jeans slithered over her feet as he pulled. He held up the denim. “Barely enough material to make it worth the effort,” he said, yet laid them out to finish the informal blanket he had been making. Then he bent and patted Remmy’s shirt. “Park yourself,” he told them.
    Remmy carried her over to the blanket and put her in the middle of it. Octavia slid her thumb beneath the top cord over her hip. “I’m still dressed,” she pointed out.
    Both men looked at her and the heat she had seen in Ángel’s eyes duplicated itself in Remmy’s.
    “That’s right,” Remmy said. He looked at Ángel and lifted a brow.
    “Please do,” Ángel told him.
    Remmy’s chest lifted and fell as he took in a deep breath. He walked carefully on the blanket and stopped in front of her. His hand as he raised it to her hip was trembling.
    He held it up, looking at his shaking fingers.
    “Are you…is that good for you?” Octavia asked.
    “Adrenaline. My human systems are breaking through.” Remmy swallowed. She could see his throat work in the moonlight. His eyes were dark shadows under his brows. “It happens in times of high stress…or high emotion.”
    She took his hand and held it.
    Remmy shook his head. “There is one certain cure for what ails me right now.” He pulled his hand from hers and kissed her briefly. Then he sat on the blanket. “Come here,” he said.
    Something deep in her belly turned over in a slow, delicious tumble. The flesh between her legs felt swollen and slick and heated. She got to her knees next to him.
    Ángel sighed. “I could stand here and watch your legs move forever,” he said.
    “Mine?” Octavia asked, startled.
    “We can’t have that,” Remmy said with a growl. “No one stands and watches anything.” He scooped Octavia up and turned her. “Spread your legs,” he directed her.
    Octavia began to shake. She spread her knees and Remmy placed her over his legs again. Only this time, her back was to him. It was an odd position, yet it was an arousing one. Her back was against his chest, which meant her front was exposed. All he had to do was reach around and play with whatever he wanted…while Ángel could see everything he did.
    Her clit throbbed. She realized she was pushing her ass back against Remmy’s belly, coaxing him to put his hands on her.
    Remmy pressed his hand flat against her stomach. His hand was so big that even though his thumb was stroking her navel, his fingertips pressed the soft mound of flesh protecting her clit and she gasped, her hips jerking forward.
    “Ángel,” Remmy breathed.
    Ángel dropped to his