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“I don’t understand,” Deacon continues. “You’ll let us taste your pussy but won’t introduce us to your uncle?”
I practically choke on my own gasp. I take a huge breath of air that I haven’t been able to do without breathing through my nose. I glance around me, making sure no one is within earshot.
“Don’t worry about anyone else.” Ben stands up and closes the heavy curtains that line the glass wall of our study room. He paces back to me and gets right into my space. His muscled thighs in his dress pants and thick cognac leather belt are suddenly all I can look at. I’d take this view over anything else. I’ve been dreaming of waking up in a Paris apartment overlooking the Eiffel Tower, but suddenly that doesn’t seem like a worthy goal because where do Ben’s thighs fit in? Which is exactly why I need to stop this madness. I tear my eyes away and look back down at the table. But Ben has other plans. He places his thumb under my chin and gently angles my face up to look at him. His dark brown eyes always look kind, but right now they look different. They look at me like they want to eat me whole.
“That night at the club happened.” He says firmly. I feel myself blush immediately. “And it was amazing. And we knowthere’s no uncle in town. So now tell us the real reason you’re ignoring us.”
I hate the fuzzy blanket that is wrapping around my brain currently and cutting off all the blood flow that I need for rational thought. Ben’s light touch is enough to make my resolve weak. And hearing him call the night amazing is even more debilitating.
“I thought there was an unspoken agreement that it was just a one-time thing that would never be mentioned again. We got carried away.” I say calmly, with all the strength I have left to muster.
“What was it about that night that made you think we wouldn’t bring it up again?” Graham gets closer to me now, too. I swallow hard, readying myself for his interrogation. “Was it when we each took turns tasting you for the first time? Or when I held you in my arms as your whole body trembled, coming over and over again?”
A small sigh unintentionally escapes my lips. I glance at the door. Maybe I should just run out now. Because what the hell do I say to that? I notice Graham’s entire body language shift as if he’s ready to catch me, his runaway fox, if I dare move toward that door.
“I don’t understand,” I say softly in resignation. “Why would one of you want me? Let alone all three? You could have anyone you want. And why risk making this good thing we have so messy?”
“We want you only,” Deacon says without missing a beat as if he’s been ready for this question. He moves toward me to get in alignment with his brothers. Suddenly, our formation is dangerously close to exactly how it was that infamous night. Right before everything went down. “Why is that so hard for you to believe? You’re confident and you dominate in every other facet of your life. You’re a force, Emily. You get what you want.So why can’t you believe that you deserve what you want when it comes to us? Because I think you do want us.”
I swallow. Are they what I want? Is it even possible to want all three of them? I shake the thought away.
“I’m ten years older than you.” I fight back. “You guys probably don’t even understand why some contact information has a space to fill in a home phone number. You see, when I was growing up, we still had phones that-”
“Older men are in happy relationships with younger women all the time.” Graham interrupts me. “They seem to survive the decade-long gap in home phone technology.” His eyes are smirking, but he just hit on the root of my angst without knowing it. My heart races for a very different reason. This time it’s a symptom of my brain kicking back into action.
Because he’s exactly right. Older men go for younger women all the time. Because that’s the reality we live in. Agedoesmatter. At least for half of the population. Women need to be less for men. Less in age, less in demands, less in physical stature, and less eager to conquer the damn world like I want to. Maybe I’m novel to them right now, someone different from who they normally go for. But I don’t have time to be a tourist attraction they stop at on their way to pretty young wives. No matter how much pleasure I might be denying myself, nothing is worth giving up my focus.
“I need to go,” I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
And with that, my head finally makes a good decision and forces my feet to do what they should have done last week. Walk the hell away before it’s too late.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ben
“Just sex then,” Graham says firmly just as Emily’s hand grips the door handle. I look at Graham with a confused expression, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of Emily. “Your plan is to be the next big thing in the female pleasure industry. You want to tell people how to have sex, so look me in the eye and tell me you’ve ever come as hard as you did with us.”
She takes her hand off the door handle and my shoulders fall in relief. If she walked out that door right now, I’m not sure how we would have gotten her back.
“Learn with us. Experiment with us. Hell,useus.” Graham finishes his plea and Emily lets out a long, defeated sigh. He’s offering her any version of this that she feels comfortable with. Whatever this is between us is unavoidable. If she has to signal to that big brain of hers that this is just about her business, then hell, we’ll let her. Graham is always a genius, but this is the first time that it might actually pay off with something useful.
“I’ve never fully explained my business to you, though.” She turns around with a skeptical look. “Do you even understand what you would be getting into?”
Graham breathes deep in relief. Because I know what he knows, too. That there isn’t a thing on this planet that we would say no to. Is her business plan to open a dildo shop where sheexclusively molds the Sweet brothers’ dicks? Sure no problem. A live-stream sex show? We’ll get naked right now.
“Tell us, Foxy,” Deacon is smiling now. I can tell the man is practically pissing himself with excitement. He knows we’re in, too.
Emily blushes and I can’t tell if it’s from her new nickname or the business plan she’s about to finally explain to us after our two years of asking and only getting dodgy answers.
“Well, I have a lot of plans, but I’m going to start with one very simple idea.” Emily starts, taking turns to look at us all in the eyes.
We’re waiting with baited fucking breath, but I try to convey encouragement and patience in the limited eye contact she allows.
She breathes in deep. “The core idea is communicating about sex. Most men don’t even know where the clit is and in our society, women can be afraid to ask for what they want. So I would start with a very simple app that has games built in for couples to use. Some ideas would include quizzes on preferences and having to guess what your partner answers, scientific facts about pleasure and how it can vary from person to person, and even clit stimulation simulation which is pretty catchy and a goldmine for marketing.” She smiles. I can hear her excitement clinging to every word. “It’s not about bringing a phone into bed, but it’s a starting point to talk about things that might be uncomfortable for some people.”
“I think it’s a great idea. And so much potential to branch out to different products.” I nod. And I mean it. The women I’ve been with have been terrified to ask for what they want. In fact, Emily was the first person I’d ever been with that even dared ask for more. And it was fucking hot.
She inhales and then exhales. “Thanks, Ben. But Graham is right about something. I haven’t really tested any of my ideas.That night with you guys was the end of the longest dry streak of my life.” She’s talking now like the Emily we know. Excited about working things out with us, her best guys “It’s kind of ironic working on a sex app,” she continues. “Because I’ve essentially sworn off men. At this point, I was debating just pivoting to a rating website for dildos because that’s become my new expertise.”
