Chapter 11
SETH
“Yes, little girl, just like that.” Two nights after Ford gets removed from the property, I jerk myself while I watch Madison take Damiano’s cock into her ass. He holds her by the waist, guiding her down as she lowers herself onto his lap. I kneel in front of them, eye level with the action.
Hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Madison’s eyes are wild, her lips parted, as she seats herself fully onto Damiano. Leaning forward, I give her engorged clit a little lick. She gasps and her hips buck forward reflexively. Damiano swears in Italian and grabs her waist.
“Careful, bella.” He nuzzles her neck. “You’ll make me finish before I’ve begun.”
“Lean back, both of you.” I lick her clit again. “This pretty pussy needs to get eaten properly.”
Damiano reclines against the back of the couch, bringing Madison with him. She whimpers at the change of angle.
“Easy, easy,” I whisper, biting her inner thigh.
Her cry of surprise transforms into a moan as I slide a finger into her dripping wet cunt. She’s tighter than usual, because of Damiano in her ass, but she’s wet enough that she’ll be comfortable.
I lick and suck her clit while I finger her, scraping my teeth over her swollen nub as I go.
I jack my cock slowly, so turned on I’m afraid I’ll come before either of them.
Damiano would never let me hear the end of it, of how he, buried in Madison’s ass, has better stamina than me with my own fucking hand.
Damiano keeps one hand on Madison’s waist. The other, he uses to grasp her breasts, circling her nipples and pinching occasionally. She writhes between us, moaning with lustful, needy sounds.
“You feel like you are about to come,” Damiano says in a low voice. “I love the way your ass tightens around me, my beautiful girl. You are so soft, so hot, so tight. Perfect for us, do you know that?”
Madison’s response is unintelligible. Her eyes are glazed as she looks down at me. I feast on her, devouring her while pumping two fingers in and out of her pussy.
She comes fast, and she comes hard, shouting with the force of it. I increase the pace of my jerking, knowing the end is close for me, too. A pleasurable heat builds at the base of my spine.
Damiano groans out his own release, and it’s finally my turn. I come with a brutal grunt, spilling into my hand and hoping I don’t accidentally spray the side of Madison’s sofa.
Damiano and Madison collapse into the cushions, looking absolutely exhausted.
“Tired?” I ask. “Who’s ready for round two?”
Madison laughs. “Give me a minute…or maybe an hour. Actually, I might need a whole day after that.”
I fall over to lie on the floor, keeping one hand wrapped around Madison’s ankle.
I rub her calf absently, enjoying the softness of her skin.
The past couple of days have been quiet.
Damiano and I have stayed with Madison at her place both nights.
Not because she’s scared or “needs” us, but because we want to.
We talked about her moving into Nove with us. But what if we moved here instead?
“Is it too soon to start talking about living together again?” I ask.
Nobody responds at first. Madison finally says, “No, it isn’t too soon. But what would that look like? I love my home. Not as much as I love the two of you, but I really love living here…when nobody’s creeping on me. What do you guys think of living with me here, instead of at Nove?”
A loud bang sounds from the basement. I sit up in alarm, but Madison pats my shoulder.
“It happens all the time,” she says. “It’s just the house settling.”
It sounded way too loud to be a random house-settling sound. But she knows this place better than I do. When no other noise is forthcoming, I relax and lie down again.
“I would love living with you anywhere,” Damiano says. “The actual location is unimportant.”
I add, “It doesn’t matter where, as long as we’re together.”
“It is rather soon in our relationship, though,” Madison says. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you both, but more that I…well, I don’t trust my own feelings as much as I should.”
That’s my mother’s fault, no doubt. “Why don’t we think about it for a few days?
” I ask. “We can mull over the pros and cons separately, ask each other questions, figure out whatever we need to figure out. You could get in touch with Danica Montrose and talk to her about what it’s like living with two men.
If at the end of the week, you’re still not sure, we can wait.
I want to be with you all the time, Madison, but there’s no rush to make big decisions. ”
“Well, I’m in a rush.” Damiano rolls over on top of Madison, tickling her.
She squeals with laughter.
I think we’re going to be okay.
MADISON
The following Tuesday, both of the guys are working at Nove.
My phone buzzes again. I know without looking that it’s Ford. He posted bail and has been trying to get in touch with me since. Yet somehow, despite him trespassing on my property, and the constant calls and texts, I don’t have enough to file a temporary restraining order.
“What do they need?” I mutter. “An attempt on my life?”
It sure seems that way.
At any rate, I go into my phone settings and mute Ford. I don’t block him, because I might need to show the calls as harassment in order to get a restraining order.
I catch a glimpse of his latest text. It starts with, I’m so sorry, Madison. This is all my fault.
“Psh.” I mute the thread. Of course it’s his fault. Nobody made him sneak into the yard and try to get in my house. Nobody made him lie, over and over again. Nobody made him pretend to be my friend.
I feel like such an idiot for trusting him.
While I have my phone open, I check my text thread with Danica Montrose. She’s coming over today for a chat. See you soon! I text, feeling like a dork. I probably shouldn’t be as excited as I am, but I can’t help it.
I spend the rest of the morning rearranging the living room, dusting things that have already been dusted, and re-organizing my snack cupboard.
I don’t know what Danica likes, so I figured we could just raid the kitchen before taking some food into the living room to munch on.
I don’t know—I haven’t had a friend over to my place in years.
Pathetic, but this is a new era. I won’t dwell on my failures of the past.
A little after noon, a car pulls up the drive and a slight, blond woman climbs out of the driver’s seat. She practically bounces up my front steps.
I open the door before she can knock. “Hi! I’m Madison.”
“Hey, I’m Danica! So nice to meet for real, finally.” She reaches her arms out for a hug.
Surprised, I return her hug. “Come on in.”
“Wow, nice place,” she says as she steps back to take in the entryway.
“Thanks. My great-aunt left it to me. I’ve been doing a few little remodels and face-lifts. Come with me into the kitchen, and we can grab some snacks.”
She follows behind me, craning her neck to admire the art on the walls. “Well, it’s looking great.”
I want nothing more to impress her, so this is reassuring to hear. I’m so nervous, my hands are shaking as I open the fridge. “What do you like? I have a little bit of everything.”
She looks over my shoulder. “No joke. Damn. I like it all. I vote mimosas and pastries.”
“Sounds great! At least to start with. If you’re hungry after that, we can move onto the charcuterie board. I also have fixings for deli sandwiches, or we could make nachos.”
She gives me a look of concern. “Madison, how much did you think I eat?”
I frown, feeling my face growing hot. “I don’t know—I was super anxious about having someone over. I know I went overboard, but I didn’t want to fuck things up. I don’t want you to think I didn’t want you to come over, because I do, more than anything—”
“Hey.” She throws her arms around me. “It’s okay. I’ve been super excited to meet you, and I was a little nervous, too. Let’s get some snacks and chat, okay?”
I nod, immediately reassured. My social ineptness isn’t throwing her off yet. And thinking back to what Eliza said about me showing vulnerability, well, it looks like I just did that, and the world didn’t fall down around me.
We grab champagne, orange juice, fruit, and a box of pastries from V’s Cafe. I thought we would sit on the couch in the living room, but somehow we end up at the little bistro table I set up in the kitchen.
“Okay,” Danica says, pouring a healthy amount of champagne into each of our glasses. “Tell me about your guys. I’ve met Damiano briefly, but I don’t know Seth well at all.”
I tell her about Damiano and Seth, including how great they’ve been throughout the past few months as I’ve been going through some shit. She shares similar stories about her and her husbands, Edmund and Troy.
“And the sex is apparently amazing?” she prompts.
I grin, remembering our time at the movie theater. “It’s fantastic. Having all their attention on me? I thought it would be overwhelming, and it nearly was at first. But now…I don’t see myself with anyone else, doing anything different. It’s perfect.”
Danica sighs and smiles. “Same.”
“I can’t tell you what a relief it is to finally have someone to talk to about all this.” I pop a blueberry in my mouth, chew, and swallow. “I can talk to the guys, but it isn’t the same as confiding in someone who isn’t in the relationship, you know?”
“Yeah.” Danica’s laughter is bright. “I sure as hell can’t talk about sex with my friend Leah. We used to confide in each other about everything…until she started dating my brother.”
“Oof, I’m sorry.” But we’re laughing.
After a few more minutes of sharing how we met our guys, I say, “So, one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you—besides needing a friend who understands—is that I wanted to ask what it’s like living with two guys. We’re talking about taking the next step and moving in together.”
“What it’s like? I think it’s just like a normal couple relationship, except it is harder to get time to yourself. One of them is almost always there.”
That probably won’t be as much of a problem for me, with the guys working such long hours. If I end up creating a zombie lore podcast, I’ll be working from home, but I’ll have most of the daytime to myself.
“I have my own room at our place,” Danica continues. “It definitely helps. Also, they’re good at picking up after themselves, sharing chores, and so on, but sometimes you just want the only messes in the house to be the ones you created, you know?”
“Oh, I know.” My frustrations when living with Hugo and Felix, before I inherited this house, are still fresh in my mind.
Danica takes a sip of her mimosa. “But overall, it’s a dream. I’m living with the two men I love most in the world. They dote on me. It was strange at first. But it didn’t take me too terribly long to get used to it.”
I laugh. “I imagine it’ll be the same for me. Although they’re so overprotective sometimes, it’s insane.”
“Yeah, that’s a whole other thing. I imagine for some women, it might be suffocating.
But when I yell at them because they’re being dominating dickhead dictators, they’ll back off a little.
” She grins. “If you can’t speak up for yourself, you’ll get railroaded into doing whatever they think is best. Although, sometimes they come up with some really, really good ideas. ”
We laugh together, and I wonder when was the last time I laughed like this with another woman, as a friend. I can’t remember ever doing this.
Despite the overabundance of snacks in the house, we get the idea to bake cookies.
Danica loved the ones catered at her wedding, and I have the recipe.
Even when we aren’t talking or gossiping about our guys, things are easy between us.
There aren’t any awkward silences or weird pauses.
Danica has this magical ability to make me feel comfortable.
“This was so much fun,” she says as we pack up our cookies. “I don’t want this day to end, seriously. I haven’t let loose like this in a while. Do you have plans tonight?”
“None,” I say, pleased. “What do you have in mind?”
We go out to dinner, ordering a ride to get there and back to my place. It’s a blast, and throughout dinner we come up with more plans of things to do together.
When we get back to my place, Danica asks if she can leave her car. “I had that drink with dinner, and better safe than sorry.”
“Oh, for sure, you can leave it here.”
“Thanks. I’ll come with one of the guys and pick it up tomorrow.
” She gives me a massive hug before adding, “Thanks so much for this. I needed another friend. I’m having a party in a couple of weeks, and inviting a few people like my old roommates, and Leah, and my dumb brother.
Do you want to come and meet some other cool people? You can bring your guys.”
“I’d love to!” My face hurts from smiling so much as I wave goodbye and unlock my front door.
Is this what it’s like having a friend? I even told her about my podcast idea, and she thought it was the best idea ever.
She offered to help me with anything I might need, from researching gear, to promoting the podcast, to coming on as a newbie to the genre and sharing her reactions to different shows.
I step into my dark house. The alarm beeps, reminding me to disarm it, so I hurry to the control panel and punch in the code.
As soon as I do, though, I hear something else—the sound of footsteps in my kitchen. The microwave running.
I’m not alone.