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He laughs. “Of course you want more. And I’m gonna give it to you. Can you take another?” he asks.
“Another what? A finger?” I mumble.
Then I nod, because the ability to speak is leaving my body.
There is a burning pain as he stretches me, and then it eases, not entirely comfortable, but not really uncomfortable, either. He pulses his fingers gently in my ass until it begins to feel good. Really good.
While he’s doing that, I look back at him from my bent position, and see his eyes are heavy with concentration, his lips pressed tightly together. His cock presses into my pussy while he slowly maneuvers his fingers deeper in my ass. I am full, so deliciously full.
I come almost instantly, bucking back against the dick and fingers inside me. In a surprise moment, he smacks my ass cheek, and I can’t help but giggle. It doesn’t hurt and in fact added to the crazy sensations that have invaded my body.
“My girl, look at how I’m fucking my girl,” he murmurs, pumping both my holes.
When my orgasm hits, I break into a hundred pieces, each flying in different directions, floating like there’s no gravity, and I may never come back to earth.
Which is fine with me.
* * *
58
AVA
These men are addicting,and not just because they took me to London where we barely saw the outside of our hotel room. On the flight home, we have the center four seats in our giant plane, and it’s heaven, pure heaven to be surrounded by my loves. I take turns holding hands with them, and it’s the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced. The British Airways flight attendant might have raised an eyebrow, but I’m sure he’s seen it all.
In my mind, I have a list of questions, and when the guys fall asleep on the flight, I jot them down in my tablet. The four of us have decisions to make, and while I know we’ll handle them like grown-ups, I want to make sure nothing falls between the cracks.
I figure we need ground rules, schedules, and a careful consideration of living arrangements to make sure the relationship remains balanced, respectful, and harmonious. How the heck is all this supposed to work? Has anyone in the history of relationships ever dated three men?
Is it even possible?
Actually, yes, it’s possible. I’ve already decided it is. There are just some details to iron out.
I continue with my list, spelling out how the careful negotiation of our arrangement will reflect our deep affection and respect for one another, and set the stage for our successful future.
I get all this down, every last word, before I forget it.
Then a sharp elbow in the ribs knocks me out of my reverie.
“Are you serious with that freaking list?” Ethan asks, looking at my tablet and smirking.
I flip it closed. I’m not ready to share my thoughts yet. Still working on them.
I look straight ahead at the western playing on the TV screen in front of me. I couldn’t figure out how to turn the damn thing off.
“Don’t worry about it,” I sniff.
He takes my arm and pulls it to his lap, entwining his fingers with mine. Pulling my hand to his lips for a kiss, he brushes his cheek with it. His facial scruff, pretty out of control due to our long travel day, scrapes my skin.
I don’t mind. In fact, it feels kind of good.
“Ava,” he says, hooking a finger under my chin and turning my head to face him. “You have nothing to worry about, and you don’t need to prepare a manifesto. It will all work out.”
Really? Is this the Ethan I flew to London with only four days ago? The one who flies into a rage when his coffee is not hot enough, and his shirts not starched properly?
When, in his thirty-two years of life, has Ethan ever uttered the wordsdon’t worry?
I give my confusion away when I scratch my head, because he laughs.
