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“And why’s that? Who do you belong to?”
“You. I belong to you, Jagger,” I scream as I come hard.
My arms crumple beneath me, and my face ends up buried in the cushions as Jagger thrusts into me over and over until he comes with a roar, pulling out at the last second and coming all over my ass and lower back.
My orgasm sucked all the energy from my body. I don’t think I can even move to stand up.
“Shall I let E in so he can see my cum all over you?”
Never mind, I can move.
I push myself to stand and scramble to pull my shorts up. “Asshole.”
“Maybe next time, baby. We’ll get Slade inside your pussy first while I take you. Having us both inside you… Trust me, it will rock your fucking world.”
“I hate you.” Evander’s voice sounds through the door, making me squeak as I run to the bathroom, ignoring Jagger’s laughter.
I take a quick shower to clean myself up, thankful that we’d managed to squeeze in a talk about our sexual history. It’s just as well, given how I keep ending up in these compromising positions. They had the paperwork to show me a clean bill of health. Though I didn’t have the same to offer—beyond showing them my birth control—they took me at my word. Heck, it has been years since I was last tested. But it’s been years since I last slept with someone, too. I’m just glad everything still works like it’s supposed to.
Figuring I’ve given Jagger enough time to get rid of Evander, I slip on a pair of army-green cargo pants and a white tank top. I pile my hair up into a messy bun and pull a few tendrils free to frame my face before putting my glasses back on. Taking a quick look in the mirror, I see that the shower has done nothing to erase the freshly fucked look on my face. Surprisingly, I don’t care. For a while, whenever I looked at my reflection, all I saw in my eyes was a hollow void I couldn’t seem to fill. Since coming here, I’ve done nothing but run a gamut of emotions. What I haven’t felt since the second I knocked on that door is empty.
As I head back out to the living room, I hear voices. Jagger is probably filling Slade in on our sexcapade. I just hope he’s okay with it. I know they said they both wanted me, but the reality of fucking the same girl is different from the fantasy. I don’t know how they stop themselves from getting jealous of each other. What we have is still in its infancy, but the thought of sharing either of them with another woman makes me feel like hulking out and throwing things, so I don’t take their feelings lightly.
When I walk into the kitchen, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and move over to the table, but I freeze because it’s not Slade sitting with Jagger—it’s Evander. This time I don’t feel my face going red—I feel it catch fire. I turn on my heel to leave.
Jagger catches me and spins me into his chest, tipping my head back to look at him. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, Astrid, I swear. It was fucking hot.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that when I open them again, Evander will have disappeared.
“He’s right. That was spank-bank material, for sure. Later, when I think back on it, I’ll switch out you shouting Jagger’s name for mine, but—ouch! Motherfucker, that hurt!”
Evander complains when Jagger reaches over and slaps him on the back of his head.
I look over at Evander, and his eyes find mine. He stands up and shuffles closer. I grip Jagger’s T-shirt tightly.
“Seriously, please don’t be embarrassed. It was hot, but I’m not planning on trying to get in your pants. Hell, in my fantasies, you don’t even wear pants—hey! Alright, stop fucking hitting me.”
“Stop hitting on my girl.”
“Our girl,” Slade calls out as he swings the front door open and catches the tail end of the conversation.
Evander’s face pales as he turns back to me. “Okay, here it is. I think you’re awesome, Astrid, but really, I just want to talk to Miss Evo.”
I can’t help but grin at his puppy dog face as Slade walks over and tugs me from Jagger’s arms so he can kiss me.
“Who’s Miss Evo?”
“I am. It’s my alias.”
“Wait, why does that sound familiar? You’re not a porn star. I’d remember you.”
I roll my eyes. Men. Seriously.
“Of course she’s not a porn star—not that there’s anything wrong with that—but gamer girls are so much sexier,” Evander says.
Slade glares at him.
“I meant cooler.” He holds his hands up and backs away.
