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The slippery fabric makes my effort to spread my legs appear overzealous.
He remains silent as he stares at my sex. I’m fairly certain that he has now looked at my lady bits longer than I ever have.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs as he strips himself naked.
Purge calls out from upstairs, “There are so many goddamn doors in this place. Where the fuck are you, Moneybags?”
“You got that right,” Tank says from the other downstairs wing of the house. “Any luck, Winger?”
“Oh, I got all the luck in the world,” Winger whispers.
There’s a shift in his mood as he strokes his cock, from fun to determination. With one hand, he reaches behind me and pulls me forward, easily sliding his shaft into me. I bite my lower lip to hold back my cries. He’s making love to me, looking into my eyes, kissing me, fondling my breast, stroking my arms.
I don’t know how long we’re going at it, because I’m drifting through the tail of my first orgasm when the other two guys come into the kitchen. Clothes are being thrown in places my grandmother would never have approved of.
Then again, orgasms and bodily fluids are breaking the rules as well.
I’m barreling towards my next release when my phone rings.
Orgasm averted.
The ringtone—it’s ingrained in my brain and I beg the name to vacate my entire existence.
Tank lifts the phone. “John?” His face is still positioned toward the screen, but he looks at me, past his lowered brows.
“No one important.”
“Oh, yeah? So I can answer it?”
“Please don’t.”
Winger pumps slowly, enough to keep my attention, but allowing me the ability to talk.
“Is this the boyfriend?”
“How do you know about my boyfriend?” Then I remember the brief conversation where I admitted he had made me feel dirty.
Purge cracks up. “So that’s a yes. Because rumors were going around, rumors that you were going to buy us, rumors that you might be using us, rumors that you wanted to make your boyfriend jealous.”
“He’s not my boyfriend anymore, I promise.”
“You broke up with him?”
“No, he broke up with me.” Why can’t they just let me enjoy Winger’s thick cock?
Purge busts out laughing. “Nobody in their right mind would break up with you.”
“Fine. He’s not in his right mind. I’ll give you that. Just please don’t answer it.” I lean my head into my extended arm, but the guys won’t let it go.
I give them the Cliff Notes version while getting slow-fucked to the repeated ringtone of my ex-boyfriend. “He texted me that I wasn’t enough. I was too vanilla, a boring girlfriend, and he needed more.”
Winger stops, looks me dead in the eye, and says, “Let Tank answer.”
Tank hovers his finger over the accept call button and says, “Are there any words you want to say right now before I answer this call?”
I furrow my brow. The ringtone starts again.
“Any particular repeated three-letter word, a sweet treat, you want to mention to shut this down?”
