Chapter 11
Eleven
Wells
The sequence of events leading us here has become hazy and less clear as the evening has gone on.
If someone had told me, even this morning, that by dinner I’d have Lacey Lovette on her back beneath me and August Vogel’s cum already leaking from her swollen cunt as I prepared to give her mine… Well, I would have been turned on as hell, but also amused.
I don’t regret it, though. Fuck no. This woman… This man… The pair of them are a deadly weapon against my willpower and sense of self-preservation. Not one single part of me wants this to stop, and now that I’ve had a taste of them both, all I can think of is how to get more.
“Wells,” Lacey moans, her fingers tangling in my hair as she drags me down to kiss her.
She tastes like honey and apples and sweetness, homey and decadent and fucking perfect.
Everything about her draws me in, makes me want more, and as I press the engorged head of my dick against her entrance, I know the situation is about to get a hell of a lot worse.
A tremor wracks my body as August’s hand splays across my shoulder.
I pull back, allowing him to kiss her too, and my eyes almost roll back into my head as I permit myself to ease forward, taking possession of the slick, used hole between her thighs. Son of a bitch.
“Fuck, Lace,” I groan, giving a few more thrusts as the woman beneath me writhes, panting into August’s mouth.
“Oh my god,” Lacey whimpers, looking back to me when August sits back, her lips parted and eyes wide.
The way she looks right now, the way she feels—obscenely slick from her own arousal and August’s cum—is some shit straight out of my dirtiest, most depraved fantasies.
“Wells!” Her voice breaks on my name as I roll my hips experimentally, hitting a deeper spot inside her.
The warm, soft thighs bracketing my hips tremble as the large, male hand on my back slips lower.
“I think we should make this real good for him, don’t you, Lace?” asks August, and I hear myself groan as his hand presses between our bodies to play with Lacey’s clit.
“Yes,” she whines, fingers digging into my biceps as I start to get into it, fucking her harder than I would expect her to enjoy.
She is enjoying it, though, lapping up the attention from both of us.
Every time I hit bottom, she lets out a pained little cry, restlessly lifting and lowering her hips, trying to find a place where I’m not too much for her.
I’m so into it, so absorbed in her, that I don’t notice what August is up to until it’s already happening.
His hand has vanished from Lacey’s clit, and he’s rubbing two slick fingers over my asshole instead, exerting just enough pressure to make my head spin and whatever control I thought I had, evaporate.
“You like that?” the doctor asks, and the words seem to hold a promise, too, that he can make it even better if I say yes.
I grit my teeth, fucking Lacey harder, and August follows, teasing my ass more insistently.
I’m beyond reason now, beyond self-consciousness or shame.
All I can think of is getting more of this, more of the unbelievable pleasure these people are giving me, and I don’t care what I have to do to get it.
The room is filled with the wet, slapping sound of skin on skin, my own grunts of pleasure, and Lacey’s cries.
“Jesus. Yes,” I manage, as Lacey thrashes under me. “Don’t fucking stop.”
August doesn’t stop. Instead, he presses harder, opening me up in gentle, teasing strokes that make my balls tighten up, preparing to unleash a fresh load of cum into Lacey’s well-used cunt.
I can hardly remember my own name or keep myself from collapsing on top of her, never mind get my shit together enough to finish her off.
The possibility of not making it happen is enough to cut through my pleasure-drunk fog, however, and I shove a hand between our bodies to work her clit.
“Come on,” I snarl, every muscle in my body pulled taut with the herculean force it takes to stop myself from losing it. “Need you to finish me off.”
A broken cry falls from Lacey’s lips as she bucks and grinds into my touch, her breaths coming in fevered pants. “Please, oh my god, I’m so close, Wells.”
Unhelpfully, August chooses this moment to go in for the kill. Dipping two fingers past that tight ring of muscle, he curves them, expertly pressing against the place that makes lights burst in front of my vision.
I come harder than I have in years. It’s so intense, I can barely hold my weight off Lacey as my dick goes off inside her, filling her with thick ropes of my cum.
I don’t know my name, or what day it is, or where the fuck we are. All I know are the two people with their hands on me, bringing me to the brink of what could only be goddamn nirvana.
“Wells!” The sound of my name being chanted by the woman beneath me brings a dim rush of relief, even as I can’t seem to bring myself to lift my forehead from her shoulder.
I can’t see her come, but I can sure as fuck feel every hot, tight muscle gripping my dick, which prolongs my already intense orgasm.
“Holy fuck,” I hear myself groan when I’ve finally come down, using the last of my energy to fall to the side, collapsing onto the mattress beside Lacey.
August, who is fucking grinning, takes her other side, propping himself up on an elbow to look at us both. He chuckles, brushing Lacey’s damp curls from her forehead. “You okay, Lace?”
She lets out a disbelieving little laugh. “I think so? Yes?”
Yeah, I know the feeling. I’m still dazed in the aftermath of the best orgasm of my life. Stringing more than a few words together seems to be beyond me at the moment.
What just transpired seems more likely to be the result of some repressed, erotic dream than an actual event I participated in. Even with the sweat cooling on my skin and the ache in my muscles from how hard I went on her, it seems hard to believe.
August’s eyes meet mine, and some of his smugness seems to fade. He doesn’t say a word, just stares at me, his expression caught between regret and something else entirely.
It’s been a long time since I had feelings for August Vogel. Now, he’s different, and I’m different, and there’s Lacey here with us, too… I’m ashamed to admit it, even to myself, but as he looks at me, I wonder if it could be different this time.
It won’t be. He’s leaving in a few days, and I need to remember that shit.
“Nicely played, doc,” I tell him lightly, endeavoring to step free from whatever moment just passed between us.
August seems to shake himself, too, offering me a slight smile as he reaches out to cup the side of Lacey’s face, turning her to kiss him. I take a turn once they’ve broken apart, swiping my tongue between the seam of her lips greedily, tasting the three of us as I do.
Jesus.
“Let’s watch a Christmas movie,” she suggests when we break apart, her swollen lips splitting in a sweet, playful smile.
If I had any expectations of this encounter at all, I would have expected us to go our separate ways when the fucking portion of the evening was completed.
It seems strange to follow up a round of earth-shattering group sex with a holiday movie, but August doesn’t seem to have a problem with Lacey’s suggestion.
He grins easily, getting to his feet to dress in a pair of discarded boxers, and crosses to get the remote and some extra pillows. I slide off the bed, too, feeling distinctly awkward as I put my clothes back on.
We’re in August’s room. I could leave and go back to my own. Still, I linger beside the bed, watching silently as the two of them bustle around, debating which movie to watch and gathering snacks from the little bar in the corner.
“Which one do you like better, Wells?” asks August distractedly, his features illuminated by the blueish light from the TV as he frowns at the screen.
I swallow with difficulty. “I don’t care.”
Lacey, who is dressed in my stolen flannel, offers me a reproving look as she pads back across the room with an armful of fluffy blankets. “Come on,” she needles, “you must have a preference.”
Right now, the only thing on my mind is whether it would make me a grade A asshole if I walked out of here. Even if I can’t quite put my finger on why I want to leave.
“Fine.” I pick one at random, watching as August presses ‘play’ and crosses back to the bed.
He and Lace don’t seem to have the slightest hesitation in making themselves comfortable with all the movie night shit, and it’s not until the opening scene of the movie that they seem to realize I’ve made no move to take the empty side of the bed.
Lacey’s smile slips, just a little. “You don’t have to watch with us,” she assures me gently, “I probably shouldn’t have assumed you would.”
August doesn’t meet my eye.
“It’s not that, I just…” My feeble excuses to get out of the intimacy of the moment fall away, leaving me standing there, drained.
Fuck, I’m such an asshole, disappointing both of them.
“Fine.” I don’t look at either of them, pretending I’m focused on the movie as I get stiffly onto the bed, taking the spot beside Lacey.
She pulls a fuzzy throw blanket over my lap with a glowing smile as August passes over my own, personal bag of overpriced, locally made popcorn.
I’ve been in relationships, monogamous ones with people I thought I loved, but even then, I never quite got over feeling stiff and awkward in situations like this.
The longer I sit here with them, however, the easier it seems to become.
I even find myself relaxing back into the pillows as, beneath the blanket, Lacey reaches out to lace her fingers through mine.
“Don’t forget to charge him for all this mini bar shit,” I tell her under my breath, indicating the snacks. “He’s a doctor. He can afford it.”
Lacey giggles, nudging my leg with her toes as August, who has an arm thrown over her shoulders, flicks my ear. “Careful, or I’ll replace it with the shit from your room,” he warns, even as a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.
I scoff. “Going to break in?”
August leans past Lacey to look at me properly, wearing a smile that does uncomfortably good things to me. “I don’t think breaking and entering will be necessary, Davis. I have my ways.”
Between us, Lacey sighs. “You just had your fingers in his ass, August. I think you’re close enough to call him Wells.”
Our laughter drowns out the TV, as does the animated debate that follows it.
My stiffness and discomfort are forgotten as we talk through most of the movie, exchanging commentary on whatever’s happening on screen or throwing in our own holiday stories. When the credits finally roll, we start another one, which leads to more of the same.
And it’s easy.
My relationship with August was hardly the only one I cut off at its knees. Didn’t I do the same thing to Lacey when I assumed she wouldn’t want anything more to do with me after our encounter last summer?
It’s a long-standing belief I’ve held that if I were to let someone close enough to see me properly, they wouldn’t like what they found. Here I am, though, being entirely myself with two people I wrote off, and—fuck me—it feels good.