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I feel me coming, too, and I’m so startled by it that I can barely cling to the sink as my legs tremor with wave after wave of release rip curling through me.
“Charlie,” I pant weakly as the orgasm slowly relents. “Holy ... Mother, what was that?”
“An overstimulated G-spot is what that was.” He chuckles. “Fucking awesome. We’re doing that on the daily. You been naughty, baby? You been knock-knock-knocking on the Devil’s doorbell?”
I push my arse back into him while shooting a glare over my shoulder. “Wanker.”
He tips his head back and laughs. Seeing him standing behind me, so broad, so tall, his huge hands spread on my hips, his muscles tensed, his skin flushed, that deep happiness rolling out of his chest, nearly makes me come again.
He slaps my arse and pulls out of me. Not sure what he wants of me, I stay bent over the sink in the position he wanted. He slaps my arse again, grinning. “Fuck, I love that. You waiting for me to tell you what to do. You puttin’ yourself in my hands. Stand up and come to me.”
He spreads his arms.
I turn and jump into them.
He adjusts me until I’m at dick-height and plunges into me again. I nearly climb him, whimpering, because he’s not taking it easy on me and my lady bits have already had a pretty serious workout this morning.
“That’s it, bean,” he growls in my ear, crushing me against his chest with one arm across my back while he braces my arse with the other. “Take me. Show me you want me even though you’re sore.”
“I do, Charlie. I do,” I promise, sinking down on him as the copious wetness between my legs helps ease his entry.
“I want to be the most important thing to you. More important than a little discomfort,” he says, starting to thrust. “I know I have to share you. I’m good with that. But when we’re together like this. I wanna be the most important thing in your world. I don’t want you thinking about anything but me.”
As if I could between his dominance and his cock hammering into me. “Yes, Charlie.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl. Be my good girl, bean. Punishing you was insanely hot, but I don’t want to do it often. I want you to be my good girl.” He punctuates each word with thrusts that force little moans out of me which he swallows with kisses.
“I always want to be your good girl, Charlie. You helped me through the punishment, and I enjoyed it at the end, but I didn’t like the feeling of being at odds with you. I love you lads. I don’t want you angry at me.”
He turns and pushes my back against the bathroom’s tiled wall. He finds my hands, drags them up the tile, and pins my wrists above my head with one hand. Anchoring my hips with his other hand, he starts up a harder, faster rhythm.
“Always love you more than anything else, Ted,” he pants in my ear. “Even when you piss me right off, I love you so much it feels like you’re squeezing my heart in your hands. Feels like my chest will crack, these feelings are so big. Burst right out of me.” He grunts and his body flexes, muscles swelling. “Fuck, I’m right there.”
I tip my head back against the tile so I can look into his eyes. “Give it to me, Charlie.”
He squeezes those deep emerald eyes closed. “You kill me, bean,” he growls.
Then he hammers me through the wall. All I can do is take it, and gasp, and cling to his frantically working hips with my legs.
His whole body goes rigid right before he roars his release into my temple. “Fuck, yes. Fuck, yes! Fuck, YES!”
He grunts through several aftershocks, then begins laughing. Giggles tickle up through my chest to echo him.
“Fuck, bean,” he says, releasing my wrists. “That was mental. Let’s do it again.”
I slap the back of his head. “You’re mental, Charlie Miller.”
He roars with laughter.
* * *
We don’t makeit to classes. We don’t make it to lunch. We don’t even make it to dinner. The boys take turns tagging out of our fuck-fest to meet the delivery driver. He brings pizza at lunch and lasagna with a huge green salad and ice cream at dinner. We eat both meals naked in bed and then go back to shagging, appropriately carb-loaded.
Despite all the carbs, or maybe because of them, I start drifting off after every orgasm—and with all three boys in the bed, there are a lot of them coming my way. I wake at some time in the night when the dorm’s quiet but it doesn’t feel like dawn’s close and find myself draped over Gabe, with the room softly illuminated by the telly. He’s propped up on pillows, watching Magickal Mages of Mystery. Neither Darwin nor Charlie are in the bed with us, and when I mumble something vaguely like a question into his shoulder, Gabe tells me they’ve made a midnight brownie run because Darwin had a craving.
“Princely likes brownies, huh?”
“Total chocoholic,” Gabe responds, running his hands over my back. “He’ll never admit it, but he can be easily swayed by fudge. Go back to sleep, baby girl. It’s getting late and you said you didn’t want to skip classes again tomorrow.”
