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It was my body that betrayed me. Trembling with need and still naked from last night, no shirt to hide the diamonding of my nipples in the cool room. No barrier to stop my legs from parting when he ran his hand in between them to verify what he suspected.
His eyes darkened when his fingers easily dipped into me, my body warm and wet, a whimper sliding out of my lips as he curved his fingers into me. He nodded to the bed. “Get back on there. On your knees.”
“But—” He unzipped his pants and I forgot my excuse. He got behind me and pushed his way inside, and I couldn’t hold back my cry.
I found my first orgasm quickly, then triggered his with my second. By the time I stumbled into the kitchen, a silk blouse and linen pants pulled over lazy limbs, I could barely formulate a sentence, much less feel apprehension over Aaron. Which was good, since he sat front-and-center at our kitchen island, a mug of coffee in hand.
“Morning.” He nodded at me, then slid a coffee cup toward E. “How’d you guys sleep?”
“Okay,” I mumbled, beelining for the fridge. Opening the door, I hid behind it and studied the shelves.
“Hey, Aaron. Why can’t you lose in a threesome with Vietnamese twins?”
I groaned and grabbed the orange juice, ignoring the slightly expired date. “Easton.”
“Shush, it’s funny.” He rested his weight on the counter and waited for Aaron to come up with the punchline. “Well?”
“No idea.”
I grabbed a short juice glass from the cabinet and filled it, my gaze pinned to the action.
“Because it’s a Nguyen-Nguyen.”
There was a beat of absolute silence, then Aaron chuckled.
I risked a glance up from the glass. “It’s not funny,” I chided him, then glared at Easton, who lifted his hands in innocence.
“Hey, it was a backup joke. The other was better.” He grinned at Aaron. “Want to hear it?”
“He doesn’t want to hear it,” I interrupted. “And listen.” I snapped my fingers at my husband, then Aaron. “Let’s talk about last night for a minute.”
“This will be interesting…” Easton muttered, pulling out the closest stool and straddling it. Aaron smiled, and it was dandy how amused everyone was by this.
“Get all of your threesome jokes and side comments out of the way right now, because we have about…” I glanced at the oven’s clock. “Five minutes, then Chelsea is going to be here and we are never ever going to talk about this again.”
“Can Aaron and I talk about it, just not when you’re around?” Easton’s brow pinched, as if this was a super important question worth sucking into our five minutes.
“No,” I snapped, then reconsidered, aware of how much I’d been turned on by them discussing me. “Only good stuff,” I countered. “You can praise my magical vagina but nothing else.”
“And your mouth,” Aaron snuck in with an almost shy smile. “Can we talk about your mouth?”
“Her hands are pretty good too,” Easton pointed out, and my ego inflated further. “Oh, and that middle toe on her right foot.”
“It was the left foot,” Aaron argued. “You have the sides confused because you were facing her.”
“I’m going to dump this orange juice all over both of your heads.” I lifted the carton off the counter to accentuate my threat.
Easton held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. Your middle right toe is horrendous.”
If we were alone, I’d pour it. I’d pour it over his shoulders and watch his anger grow. I’d struggle against him when he knocked the orange juice out of my hand and pinned me against the fridge. I’d try to knee his balls, and he’d bite into the side of my neck. We’d end up half-naked on the juice-covered kitchen floor, his tongue and dick deep inside of me. It was who we were, what we did, and God, I loved him.
I let out a controlled breath and forced myself to return to the fridge, my hand slightly sweating as I worked it into an open spot on the second shelf. “Chelsea can’t know what happened.”
“Agreed,” Easton said. “Though, you’re the one who tells her everything.”
“Yeah, well.” I closed the fridge. “Not this. No side jokes, no weird looks, nothing that will make her suspicious. Okay?”
Aaron shrugged in agreement and Easton nodded. This was easier than I thought. Adopting a bossy role helped. It was like a shield between me and them, one they were cushioning with their teasing.
I tapped the edge of the counter, daring to take it one step further. “And that was a one-time thing. No getting drunk and trying to feel me up,” I warned Aaron.
“Come on, Elle Bell. I’ve never tried to feel you up.” He scowled at me, and that gorgeous mug could’ve been Instagram-famous if he’d ever wanted to.
“I think you did last night.” Easton smirked and I reached over the counter and poked him.
