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Grant pulls away and holds my eyes with his. The blue is sharp, and he feels delicious with his spent cock pressing against my sticky pussy. “You’re beautiful when you come for us. I can’t wait to sink my cock into that virgin hole and take you as ours.”
“Why wait,” I ask as I palm his face gently.
“Because you’re not mentally ready to be ours,” Cain answers from beside me, and I know he speaks for all of them. They have this very annoying talent of finishing each other’s sentences.
“It’s bad enough I came all over your bare pussy. I shouldn’t have but couldn’t hold back.”
Linc turns me to look at him. “When we do, it will be just like now, bare, raw and you taking our milk. From ALL three of us.”
Oh, God help me, what have I done?
* * *
Acouple of hours later the men are sprawled out on the sofa and makeshift bed sleeping off the excitement of the early afternoon. The sun has dipped to just past noon, and I’m freshly showered standing in the middle of the messy kitchen.
Once I’d like to enjoy a shower where I’m not so damn mad I almost scrub my skin raw.
I jerk on the water faucet and watch the steamy, hot water pour over the dirty dishes.
Damn men always wanting to be in control. All the talk of home and love. Tears well but I fight them back.
I let the suds build before I set to work cleaning the breakfast dishes. I scrub and then scrub some more and when the plates are washed and dried, I store them in the cabinet the way I want them. Cups over the coffeemaker and plates by the stove. Not how Grant organized them.
I swing open the fridge to put everything back the way I want it, but it seems one of the nosy, know-it-all trio picked up on my system. Dairy top. Meats middle, and all the wine on the bottom.
Tempted to crack open a bottle, I shut the door and pull my hair up in a ponytail instead.
I need a clear mind to handle these three. Plus, I can’t drink and drive, and I don’t think I plan on sticking around.
I can’t. They want what I can’t give them. My heart just hurts too much. I’m already a slave to my body when I am around them. I came here to mourn and move on. Not step back into the past and relive old feelings.
I am supposed to be here healing my heart and finding peace, not making out with my crushes from before I understood what wanting three men really meant.
I toss the kitchen towel on the counter and peek in at the men who are all still asleep. I’m by the back door, slipping on a pair of sneakers when big sculpted arms wrap around me, and I’m pulled into a broad chest, all of me melting to all of him.
Lincoln. I know his touch and the light woodsy scent of his by memory. Time could never erase that.
He presses a kiss to the small dip between my shoulder and neck, and my eyes fall closed for a moment, just living in that second.
But it doesn’t last and he pulls away, turning me around to look at him.
“Where are you going, sweetheart?” His voice is sleep-heavy.
“I just need some air,” I answer.
He pulls me in and presses a light kiss to my still swollen lips, and my hands fall to his bare chest.
“Not now but when you’re ready, it’s okay to come to us and talk.”
I look through the doorway and see Cain and Grant still asleep. “I don’t even know where to begin.” I shrug.
In the past, Linc always kept to himself, didn’t talk much but was always there. He had a troubled childhood and didn’t know how to fit in, from what I could understand. We never touched on the topic, but I heard things.
Bringing it up now almost seems cruel, but I have to know how he survived through loss and pain.
I pause.
“Ask me anything you want to know.” He rests a hand on my hip, and for a second I wonder how he can read me so easily.
