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“I don’t want you to forget about me,” I whisper between kisses. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You’re not going to,” he tells me, his tone guttural with arousal. “We’re never going to leave you, don’t worry about that.”
“Promise?” I ask.
“I promise,” he says.
I wish I can just forget about everything that’s happened and all the doubts I have, but I know it’s going to be a battle. Still, the more he kisses me, the more he’s able to make me forget about the trouble of our past.
I put my hands on his shoulders and he lifts me and turns me around, setting me on the vanity table behind him. We continue to make out, and it’s getting hotter by the second. The frenzy he didn’t have when he started kissing me grows quickly, just like the heat that grows between my legs.
The familiar ache I carry with me practically all the time is back in full force, and I want him more than anything. I don’t care how much I love his brothers, even sharing the three of them doesn’t mean I care for one any more than the others, or any less than the others for that matter. I love each of them fully and completely as they are, and I can appreciate each one for who they are, especially in moments like this.
I spread my legs, my tight skirt making it difficult, but it only takes a motion of his hand to have my skirt bunched up around my waist. It barely covers my ass anyway, so he didn’t have to push it much for it to be out of the way. But out of the way is out of the way, and that’s fine with me.
He makes a motion at the front of his pants that I can’t see very well given the way he’s making out with me. We kiss each other deeply, our tongues dancing around each other and our arms intertwining. I’m right at the edge of the vanity, and he’s the perfect height to push his cock into my pussy right here.
I moan as he pushes his way into me, and gasp as he pumps himself back and forth. He’s rock-hard and his girth is amazing, stretching me as he pushes into me harder by the second. He’s thrusting into me, drawing himself out then pushing himself back into me again and again, his cock pressing over my G-spot each time, sending a shiver of pleasure through me.
I’m turned on, but it never takes long for them to make me cum. There’s just something magical about the way they do things that makes me climax as soon as they’re inside of me it seems, and soon I’m crying out his name, sinking my teeth into his shoulder as I cum hard.
His cock twitches as he cums inside me, pulsing his full load deep into my core.
He lets out a satisfied moan as he does, and I quiver, feeling the residual waves of pleasure run all the way through me. I can hardly believe how hard he makes me cum, and right now all my doubts about us splitting up disappear from my mind.
He’s right. There’s no reason for me to think that we’re not going to last this time around. Things are better than ever, and even if I do feel some level of resentment toward them for things in the past, I can let that go. It might take time, but I can.
There’s a loud knocking at the door, and we both jump a bit.
“Who the fuck?” Terry asks as he zips up his pants and heads for the door. I jump off the edge of the vanity and pull my skirt back down before adjusting my shirt, doing what I can to appear as though I wasn’t just having wild sex with the man in the room.
At least Hendrix is still asleep, though he’s not going to remain that way if whoever it is doesn’t stop banging on the door as though their very life depends on it.
“Mags?” I hear him ask. “What the fuck?”
“There’s a Clarissa Washington here demanding to see you,” Mags says.
“Why didn’t you tell her to fuck off?” Terry asks.
“Says it’s about the kid,” Mags replies.
Terry gives me a look, then steps out with Mags. My heart sinks, and I feel like ice is running through my veins. I have no idea why some woman would be here asking about Hendrix, and I hate that Terry has gone out to see what it is she wants. I would rather he just told her to fuck off and leave us alone.
But I’m not saying anything about this. I know it’s not my place.
It’s an agonizing ten minutes before he comes back into the room, and he slams the door behind him.
“Fucking bitch,” he spits.
“What did she want?” I ask.
“She wants to be back in Hendrix’s life,” he snaps. “The fucking bitch drops him off and just runs out of there like he’s nothing, then she comes waltzing back into our lives and acts like she can just be part of his life like nothing happened. I don’t want her to have shit to do with him! She doesn’t deserve it, the fucking bitch.”
There’s a lump in my throat, but I’m fighting against it. I don’t want to break down and cry about this, not with the stress that’s already on Terry. He’s slamming around now, still pissed off about the conversation he just had, when the door suddenly opens.
Caleb and Julian walk in, their arms full of food. It doesn’t take long for them to see that there’s clearly something wrong.
“It’s Hendrix,” I say.
