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19
You’re wanted.
It’s not a lie but it’s also not the most polite way to invite someone to join us naked in the water. In fact, it sounds pretty rude, and it’s not at all what I would have said to Finlay had I had the chance. Unfortunately, I can’t imagine what I would have said instead, my mind already barely functioning with its threadbare thoughts. With Finlay stripping on the banks of the loch, thinking is suddenly a restrictive act, a hundred times more impossible than before.
He hastily tugs his maroon sweater over his head, not needing to be asked twice, his black hair falling across his face and grazing his shoulders in a thick, messy tumble. He unzips his jeans with frantic fingers and kicks off the denims with a sense of urgency, as though under the impression that Rory may change his mind, Rory being this wild, changeable god who bestows gifts with one hand and just as easily takes them away with the other for fun.
Unlike Rory, Finlay has none of the practiced coyness. Coyness is an alien notion to Finlay, possibly because he fills his spare time being a soulful, lusted-after rock star. Even so, he still pauses for the briefest of seconds at the very edge of the water, before peeling down his white silk boxer shorts with the cockiest of smirks.
I forget how to breathe.
I’ve never seen a male, ah, appendage before. Not in real life. Rory’s done such a sterling job of hiding his beneath the water, and seeing one is much more different from feeling one. Rory’s cock is incredible, a long, thick, impossible hardness that digs into all my soft curves.
Finlay is astonishing to look at, however. I’m hypnotized by the slow bob of Finlay’s cock as it kisses his firm stomach, nestled in a fury of ink-black curls. Its hard length completes him, makes him more grown man than clueless boy, and my heart thuds arrhythmically at this new knowledge.
“Fuck,” I whisper against Rory’s ear, because I’m sure I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming. The world has never been this kind to me before.
I grind against Rory, his length an exquisite ridge trapped upright between his torso and my cunt. With every stroke against him, I shudder between his encircled arms. We’ve been broken down from bodies into shapes. We’re two looped circles: his arms and my legs around the rise of each other’s bodies, and together we hold the other steady in the constant force of streaming water.
That stabilization is much-needed, especially when I watch Finlay caress the water with a sprawled, lazy hand, spreading ripples across to us as he gauges the temperature. He raises an eyebrow, drawing his hand back. It’s cold. It might be summer but it’s still midnight in Scotland. But at this moment, I’ve never felt anything more perfect, more clarifying and necessary than plunging myself into this body of water, and not for the first time do I wonder if it contains strange, magical properties.
Finlay wades through the water, creating clear, whooshing splashes that disturb the tranquility. When he stops beside us in the middle of the loch, his eyes have darkened to emeralds.
“You want me?” he asks us, his low voice cool and businesslike in a way that cuts up my heart.
“For now,” Rory answers, utterly heartless.
“Always,” I say, adamant, and Finlay shifts his gaze to me. He takes me in, every wet, naked inch of me that Rory holds upright. I don’t shield myself. I’m his to look at, every part of myself normally concealed by heavy, scratchy school uniform. This is different. This is freedom.
Finlay swims closer to me and then dives below the surface. I twist around, glancing over my shoulder in confusion. But only a second later do I get an answer in the form of a kiss.
A kiss on my foot, on the dip beneath my ankle bone.
A kiss on the swell of my calf.
A kiss on the back of my knee, which makes me jerk forward and gasp into Rory’s mouth.
A kiss on my thigh, right beside the strong clasp of Rory’s hands.
A kiss to the right cheek of my backside, and then my left, followed by wet hands painting water up the sides of my body in one long, firm stroke as Finlay emerges behind me.
He shakes his hair out, sprinkling water across the three of us. When I look at him over my shoulder, he lunges forward, claiming my mouth fiercely. Finlay captures my body in tandem, arms wrapping around my midriff, as he leans his bare chest against my naked back.
I’ve never felt anything this good in my life. Wet and slick and surrounded by others. I feel like the center of the universe.
“Hi,” Finlay says softly, and hair rises up my arms. He’s so close to me, and I’m so close to Rory. I could die here happy, totally sated in bliss.
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and then delicately kisses the small corner where my ear connects to my jaw. I shiver inside his muscled arms, lying the back of my head on his left shoulder.
“Fin,” Rory says, and there’s the hint of a growl to it. “Can you stop trying to steal my girl?”
As though commanded, I raise myself with a groan.My girl. He really thinks I’m his girl now. And that… that’s amazing, given how we started.
But part of me also wants to be Finlay’s girl.
And heck, even Luke’s girl.
Maybe, if it’s possible, I could also be Danny’s girl.
