Page 62 of Pretend Ring Girl

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He settles between my thighs and begins working my anatomy like a symphony-level musician with their instrument. Heat rapidly spreads across my skin as my body tenses in anticipation.

A lot of heat, way too much to remain under the covers. I don’t know how he’s managing it, but I feel as though I’m about to burst out of my skin. I throw the covers back, enjoy the rush of cool air and taking in his dark head at the apex of my legs.

He glances up with amusement in his eyes, but doesn’t stop. Like some sort of unspoken challenge, he holds my gaze, observing my reaction to his ministrations. I continue watching until the pleasure rippling through my body forces my head back and I gasp, my body now writhing as I sprint toward release.

When my muscles clench and my insides flex on his fingers, his rhythm slows, and as all tension leaves my body, he chuckles, sliding himself into place above me.

“Good morning,” I whisper, a hint of a smile curving my lips.

“I’ll say,” he agrees, fingers trailing lightly over my hot skin. “I had no idea you had such an appetite, I’ll be honest. Maybe it’s a good thing for you to have several men to keep you satisfied.” It’s all said in a coy tone, baiting me, but I’m not fooled. The hard length of him is already pressing at the wetness his mouth so recently occupied. He’s certainly ready and capable of satisfying me at least once more this morning.

But I can’t let it go that easily. “Maybe,” I agree demurely. “Should we call in your brothers for backup? If you’re too old to keep up, I’m sure they’d be willing to step in.”

Vincente growls and grips my thighs, sheathing himself in me and sending fresh waves of pleasure coursing through my limbs. “Let’s finish first, and then we’ll see how much help you think I need.”

Chuckling, I wrap my arms around his neck and we take our time, enjoying our warm, sexy start to the day. However, when the drive for release becomes impossible to ignore, he grabs my hands, lacing his fingers through mine and pressing them into the pillows as we work in tandem to finish.

Orgasm achieved, Vincente releases my hands and rolls us again, pulling me on top of him and treating me to a luxurious, tender kiss. We rest long enough to cool down, but then the siren song of coffee is too strong to ignore, particularly blended with the responsibilities of our jobs.

“Come on.” Vincente pats my butt lightly. “I’ll make us a coffee and then we can take a shower… I feel round two coming on.”

I slip into my robe, not sure I really have time for a second romp in the shower, but willing enough to start with caffeine. We emerge from the bedroom to find a breakfast already laid out on the counter and the other two Vargas boys dressed for the day.

“About time,” Sandro chides. “We were questioning if we’d have to drag you guys out of bed. Sexy time or not, we still have to get to work at some point. Papa won’t give you a pass for nooky.”

“Yeah, we tried that one last week, and you didn’t cut me any slack,” adds Elian.

“Well, maybe if you two losers hadn’t decided to move in here, it would be easier to justify arriving at different times. As it is, we live a ten-minute drive away, and like it or not, we still have responsibilities.” Vincente slides into a seat and accepts the coffee Sandro places before him with a nod.

Before I take my seat, Elian manages to cop a feel, hug me, and pull out my stool in one smooth movement. “Speaking of last week, I think it’s my night tonight,” he murmurs.

Sandro clicks his tongue, delivering my coffee and kissing me on the forehead. “No, it’s my night. Check the calendar, cabròn.” Amused at my earlier commentary, the guys actually drew up a calendar and highlighted their date nights in different colors. It’s pinned to the fridge with a magnet that says ‘love is love’ across a big red heart.

Ever since we moved in together a few weeks ago, they had handed me off between them, passing from brother to brother in a dizzying lineup of events. New club opening with Elian, fancy dinner with Vincente, couch time to watch a soccer match with Sandro (which is actually one of my favorite dates so far… I had no idea how much I’d come to miss just hanging out at home when I am constantly going out. Plus, Sandro adores me in my sweats). Not to mention our ‘family time’ and time with their parents.

But I realize that one person is not getting time. “Hey, guys, in all of your planning, did you stop to consider that I might want a night to myself, or with my family or friends?”

All three of them look up at me guiltily. They’d been so proud of their color-coded calendar. I hadn’t had the heart to tell them that seeing all my days already filled in and planned for me stressed me out.

“We’re sorry, my darling,” Vincente sets down his coffee and turns fully to face me. “I think we were so excited to have you, we honestly didn’t consider it.”

“What would make you happy, gorgeous?”

“I’ll be right back,” Elian slips from his stool.

Guilt swirls in my stomach. Their cheerful expressions have fallen, as if they’re now worried I don’t want to spend time with them. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy being with you guys, but I think I should have some say in my own schedule. I have a life outside of you guys, and I want to keep it. When I lived with my parents, my entire schedule was dictated by their work and when I needed to babysit. And now you guys have divvied up my life without really giving me any say.”

“I’m sorry, gorgeous. We really didn’t think about it from your perspective. But I get it now.”

“Here!” Elian rushes back into the room with a piece of paper and five different colored highlighters. Yanking the schedule off the fridge, he lays all the items on the counter in front of me. “We marked what we planned to do on our nights on here. So you can pick and choose any you want to keep. I gave you all the colors we used for ourselves, plus one more. You can mark any days you want to do your own thing with pink.” He beams proudly. “You choose, mama. It’s always your choice.”

“And if we have plans, but I don’t feel like it that night?” I finally voice the concern I’ve been too worried to say out loud.

“Then we cancel them,” Vincente replies firmly. “We never want you to feel as if you don’t have a say, Sloane. We thought organizing everything would take the pressure off of you to feel as though you had to balance things. But it comes down to what you want. Always has, always will.”

I glance down at the calendars, the markers, and then up at their adoring faces. Making a decision, I sweep the pages aside and smile. “I think right now I want to enjoy my breakfast,” I comment, pulling my place setting back toward me.

Suddenly, I emit a light cough. “Oh, you know, I don’t feel so good.” I screw up my features with concern, then tip my head to the side. “Elian, do you feel okay? You look sort of feverish.”

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