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Chapter 7
Julia
Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!
I hurried back to my hotel on Main Street, bolted the door behind me, and headed straight for the shower.
I felt like I was on fire, every inch of my skin sensitive to touch, the wet heat between my legs too overwhelming to ignore. I was so turned on it wasn’t even funny.
Cash had awakened something in me, and the revelation that Red and Dylan might want me too was enough to make me swoon.
I needed release or I was going to explode.
As the hot, borderline scalding spray of the shower drenched me from head to toe, I closed my eyes and remembered the sensation of Cash’s big hands roaming all over my body.
His fingers and palms were rough, but I liked it more than I expected to. The way he pawed at my breasts, my ass, kissed me like it was the only thing he knew how to do nearly sent me flying over the edge.
I reached down between my legs, marveling at the slickness I found there. All he did was touch me, and Cash still managed to create a trembling, yearning mess. I was putty in his hands. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like withthreeof them.
I slipped my fingers between my folds and drew tight circles against my aching clit. I breathed in the warmth of the steam and leaned into my own hand, an intense pressure building within my core.
I fantasized about Cash’s massive, strong hands. I fantasized about Red’s deep, commanding voice in my ear. I fantasized about Dylan’s hungry eyes and irresistible lips and hard body.
I came with a muffled cry, fire coursing through my veins as the blood rushed past my ears. It felt good, but I knew deep down that it would feelgreatif I had Dylan, Red, and Cash beside me.
We like to share, if you catch my drift.
I definitely caught his drift, but the hesitation on my part stemmed from a general lack of know how. I didn’t see anything wrong with being shared.
Cash himself said they were never jealous of each other, and despite his normally goofy personality, I could tell he was being serious. I supposed that made things easier. Without having to worry about hurting someone’s feelings, being the center of three mens’ attention certainly seemed appealing.
Excitement bubbled in my chest. The fact that they wantedmemade me feel oddly special.
Special, but out of my depth.
My naturally curious nature wanted to know how it worked. Not just the sex, but being together in general. I allowed myself to imagine being with them, just for fun. Hypothetically, would they take me out on dates? And if they did, would it be individually? As a group?
Whose bed were we supposed to sleep in? How would we check in with one another when problems arose?
As per usual, my analytical journalist brain was working overtime trying to find answers to questions I hadn’t fully imagined yet.
My fingers and toes were officially pruny. It was time to get out of the shower.
I’d just finished getting dressed when my phone started to ring. Someone was trying to Facetime me. At first, I thought maybe it was Winona. Instead, my mother’s picture popped up on screen.
I groaned. After taking arguably the filthiest shower I’d ever had, speaking to my mother was the bucket of ice water I didn’t need dumped all over my head.
“Hello?” I answered.
Mom and Dad were seated at the kitchen island of my childhood home, though they barely fit in the frame together. The camera was angled oddly so that I had a straight shot up Dad’s nose.
“Hello?” he called out, much too loudly. “Can you hear me, dear?”
“Yes, I can hear you—”
“Can she hear me, Darlene?”
“Yes, she can. Can you see us, Julia? Hank, quit grabbing the phone like that.”
