“Sweetheart.” Tag bites my neck. “You gotta come for us.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “So close.”
Mr. Capulet’s voice is rough. “Come now, Janie. We need this. We need you.”
Yes. My orgasm explodes, shattering all thoughts. All I have are feelings—pleasure, bliss, incandescent joy.
Mr. Capulet kisses me. “Good—I knew you could give this to us.”
“To new”—thrust—“beginnings.” Tag thrusts again.
He and Mr. Capulet groan simultaneously and lock themselves against me as they come. I’m surrounded by them, adored by them. I never want this night to end.
It takes a long time for us to move. My aftershocks ripple through me as mini-orgasms while the guys gently stroke my skin, bringing me back to earth.
Eventually, they get up and clean me. I’m in a daze, barely conscious as they run warm cloths between my legs. Mr. Capulet carries me upstairs, where they tuck me into bed and climb in on either side of me.
I grab Mr. Capulet’s hand with my right, and Tag’s hand with my left. Squeezing them both, I whisper, “Happy New Year.”
Because it is a happy new year, and I can only see more happiness from here.
MELODY
Several days earlier…
I never thought Peter would come back. Two months ago, I finally told him I’d had enough with his rules. He shouted. Raised his hand. I thought he would hit me, but he didn’t.
The next morning, he left for a temporary job relocation.
I thought it was over.
I’m coming home, babe. I hope you missed me.
I want to throw up.
I can’t be here when he gets back. I’ll spend every penny I have to pay off the apartment and get out of the lease, I don’t care. Can I even afford that, though? I don’t think I have enough.
There’s no one to turn to. The couple of girlfriends I have, they gave up on me months ago. They got tired of me flaking out on plans, or making excuses as to why I couldn’t join them. Or, most humiliating, I don’t think they’ll forgive me for when Peter showed up at Club Vice and made a scene about us “acting like sluts.”
And my two best friends, Joe and Karsten? I don’t deserve their help.
I close my eyes and a memory flashes. I’m lying on my side, and Karsten’s behind me, his dick sliding between my thighs. His hand is on my breast, kneading and pinching. A few feet away, Joe lies on his side facing us, fisting his cock.
This was what they’d hinted about, their joy in “sharing.” I was finally experiencing it.
In the end, though, I couldn’t risk our friendship. One drunken night might have ruined years of friendship.
I told them we could never speak of it again. And merely weeks later, I met Peter. I let him love-bomb me and put our relationship on the highest speed it could go. I moved in with him and yelled at Joe and Karsten when they tried to get me to slow things down.
I don’t deserve their help…but I need it.
I don’t have much time. I pick up my phone.
Like the coward I am, I text instead of calling.
JOE
Karsten bursts into my office. His dark blond hair sticks out like he’s been grabbing it, and his eyes are wild.
