She'd been trying—failing—to bleach her brain of it. The short, shaky videos Sierra usually dropped like tactical nukes time to time: Phei's hands disappearing under their skirts, mouths fused, bodies moving in ways that made Delilah's cheeks burn and her stomach knot with something far too close to jealousy for comfort.
The casual flex posts: Maddie draped over him in some overpriced restaurant booth, Sierra sprawled across his lap at a rooftop party, both gazing up at him like he'd personally invented orgasms and they were just grateful to be early adopters.
"They're pathetic," Delilah muttered, tasting the sourness on her tongue.
"They're marking territory," Sienna corrected, clinical as ever. "It's fascinating, really. Two apex predators who've never had to share a single toy suddenly reduced to digital pissing contests for a man's attention. Primal. Embarrassing. Educational."
"It's not—"
