Chapter 16 #2
The over-the-top country music fades to a hum as I watch this beautiful man kick off his boots and shimmy his pants down his toned thighs, dropping them to the snow.
He steps out of them, his hazel eyes a dark green in the flickering orange glow.
Standing in nothing but his socks and boxers, B should look ridiculous.
But he doesn’t. He’s sexy as fuck, and I lick my lips as he rubs his cock through his boxers.
It’s not completely hard, but it’s also really cold out here, so I get it.
I don’t even notice when the music shifts into something more sensual. I finally glance at Seb. His eyes are dark and dilated, and while he looks conflicted, something feral also lurks in their blue depths. He squirms uncomfortably.
My panties are soaked. Between B dancing, Seb’s obvious interest, and the vodka, I’m beyond horny, my clit aching, sending ticklish heat through my thighs.
I groan quietly because the urge to jump them both is overwhelming me.
I don’t even know what’s holding me back at this point.
Guilt? Fear? Soon, neither will be enough to stop the surge of hormones and emotional turmoil.
Our eyes lock as B hooks his thumbs around the sides of his boxers.
“Oh my God, he’s really going to do it,” Seb mutters.
B yanks them down, his dick swinging free and bobbing obscenely as he sways his hips and moves closer to us.
He stops in front of me, his cock inches from my face.
I can smell his musk and feel the heat radiating off his body.
My fingers itch to touch the path of dark blond hair that trails down his stomach and around his balls.
My breath coasts over his goose-pebbled skin, and his thick length twitches.
B reaches down, his fingers sliding under my chin and bringing my eyes back up to his. “If you’re done eye fucking me, can I put my clothes back on? It’s fucking freezing.”
“Technically, your socks are still on,” Seb says, and I glance at him with a smirk. His cheeks are flushed red and he’s trying to look everywhere but at the impressive dick in front of us.
When I nod, Brantley grabs his boxers and pulls them on while fast-walking to where his leather jacket landed. Then, he walks back over to the log, wedging himself next to Seb with a gentle sigh.
“That was cold.”
“That was—” Seb chokes on whatever he was going to say, and I still can’t get over this often gruff and grumpy man being so flustered.
“That was hot.” My blood’s still singing, and I’m not ready for it to stop.
Without any thought about the consequences, I lean across Seb, placing my hand on his thigh, and cup B’s stubbled chin before I kiss him.
It’s torturously languid, the way we savor each other’s lips, and it’s not until I hear Seb’s shaky breath between us that I pull away.
I stare at Brantley, my heart and body humming like they’re remembering an addiction that I’ll never recover from. I turn my gaze to Seb. His eyes are wide, and I can feel him tremble beneath my touch. He looks scared, but also incredibly turned on.
He licks his lips, and I tentatively run my fingers through his brown locks, my nails scraping at the soft hairs on his nape, and he closes his eyes and shudders.
“What are we doing?” he rasps.
“Having fun,” B murmurs.
“Do you think we should be—” Seb’s breath catches when B’s hand drops onto his other thigh, and I give B a wicked smile.
Brantley and I were never polyamorous in college, but I can tell we’re on the same page when it comes to Sebastian.
The real question is whether Seb will be okay.
I don’t even really know Seb’s orientation.
“Don’t think, sweetheart,” B purrs at Seb, and my heart melts into a puddle. He scoots closer to Seb and runs his thumb along the column of his neck, and I notice his cock hardening in his boxers. Seb shifts his position and swallows. Then he reaches down and adjusts himself with a quiet moan.
Brantley’s eyes snap up to meet mine, and we stand at the same time, our lust-driven thoughts in sync.
I pull on Seb’s hand.
“What—” he starts, but I yank him toward the trail to the barn.
Sebastian doesn’t fight me as I lead him behind me.
I think he knows what we’re up to. He’s close enough that I can feel his hot pants against my neck as we enter the snowy clearing, B running in front of us in white socks, boxers, and his leather jacket.
I can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of me.
There’s just enough light reflecting off the snow from the Vancouver skyline to the north to make out the dark, hulking shape of the barn. The quiet forest feels like it’s closing in around us, giving the three of us a moment to ourselves as we push our way into the barn.
Brantley stamps his feet on the floor. “Fuck! My feet are so cold. Fi, please. I saw a heater in the corner by those bags of feed.” He points with his head urgently.
I drop Seb’s hand and walk in that direction, the floorboards creaking under my weight. I find the ancient heater still plugged into the wall.
“Pretty sure this thing is a fire hazard,” I say when I turn it on and watch as the coils flare to life, turning quickly from black to iridescent orange.
B pulls off his socks, squats in front of the contraption, and rubs his hands together to soak in the warmth. “Let’s just keep it away from the wall. And all those flammable bales of hay.”
“Sure,” I snicker. It’s warm enough in the barn that I shrug out of my coat, hanging it on a nail on the wall.
I turn back to Sebastian, who’s standing awkwardly in front of the closed barn door, his expression conflicted.
I approach him slowly, and his eyes track my movements.
When I’m so close our noses are practically touching, I reach out and unzip his jacket, which falls to the floor when I push it off his shoulders.
I cup his face, his stubble scraping the pads of my fingertips.
“Is this okay?” I ask against his lips. I remember the fear in his eyes after our almost-kiss, and now that I know about his inexperience, I understand a little better.
But there’s no fear now, just curiosity and determined set to his jaw, like he’s about to push his boundaries.
He gives me a small nod, closing his eyes when our lips meet. I kiss him tenderly, ramping up the intensity slowly so that I don’t overwhelm him. When I taste salt mixed with bourbon on my lips, I pull back. There’s a hint of panic in his expression now, and his lashes cling together wetly.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispers, his voice cracking.
I use my thumbs to brush away the tears tracking down his cheeks. “I’ve got you, baby,” I say. “I’ve got you.”