16 - Date Night #4
This was different from before. Before, I’d been the center of their attention, yes. But I’d also been overwhelmed. Swept along. Now I was the one doing the sweeping.
I looked over my shoulder at Graham. His head was back, eyes half-closed, mouth open. I did that. I was doing that to him.
Kane was still watching. His cock soft now, but his eyes sharp. Hungry. Even spent, he wanted to see this.
Two men. Both of them focused on me. One inside me, one watching me. I was a fucking goddess.
I moved faster. Bounced on Graham’s cock. My thighs burned, but I didn’t care. I could feel him getting closer. The way his grip tightened. The way his breathing changed.
I wasn’t going to come. I knew that. My body had already given everything it had tonight. But it didn’t matter. This wasn’t about my orgasm. This was about theirs. About the fact that I could take two men, wreck them both, and still be the one standing at the end.
“Jesus.” Graham’s grip tightened. “I’m close.”
I didn’t slow down. Didn’t stop. I squeezed around him, and he came with a groan, his hips bucking up into me.
I climbed off. Looked down at both of them. Graham flat on his back, breathing hard. Kane still sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking his head.
I hadn’t come this round. Didn’t need to. I’d made two men come twice each in one night. That was enough.
“I need another shower,” I said. And I was smiling again.
Same coffee shop. Same table by the window. Bri was already there when I arrived, iced coffee in hand, watching me walk in like I was a defendant approaching the bench.
“Well?” She leaned forward before I’d even sat down. “Did it blow up?”
I lowered myself into the chair. Carefully. I was still sore in places I didn’t want to think about.
“It blew up.”
“Oh god.” Her eyes went wide. “How bad? Did they shout? Did you cry? Did one of them punch the other?”
“Nobody punched anyone.” I picked up the menu, pretended to study it. “They knew about each other already. Figured it out on Tuesday. Compared photos.”
Bri’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Kane is Graham’s personal trainer. They talk. They showed each other pictures of the women they were seeing.” I set the menu down. “Small world.”
“Bloody hell.” She sat back in her chair, processing. “So what—they called you? Confronted you over text?”
“In person. I showed up at Graham’s for dinner. Kane knocked on the door ten minutes later.”
“Oh my god.” Her hand went to her chest. “What was your face like?”
“Probably like I was about to pass out. I tried to leave, actually. Grabbed my purse. Headed for the door.”
“And they stopped you?”
“They told me to at least finish my wine.” I smiled at the memory. “They didn’t say it right away. Let me sweat for a minute. Which I suppose I possibly deserved.”
“Possibly.” Bri’s tone was dry.
“And then they had a proposition.”
She stared at me. I watched it click. The slow dawning. The disbelief.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Both of them?”
“Both of them.”
“At the same time?”
“At the same time.”
“Starla.” Bri grabbed my wrist across the table. Her grip was tight. “You absolute slag. Tell me everything.”
“Everything is a lot.”
“I don’t care. Start from when they made the proposition. What did they say? What did you say?”
I laughed. Told her enough. The way they’d both watched me. The way Kane had kissed me first while Graham watched. The way they’d undressed me together, moving like they’d planned it. The living room. The bedroom.
“Wait.” Bri held up a hand. “Both. At once. You mean …”
“I mean both.”
Her jaw dropped. Actually dropped. I’d never seen her look so undone.
“How does that even …? Logistically, how does that …?”
“It works.” I took a sip of my water. “Trust me; it works.”
“Christ.” She fanned herself with the menu. “And then what?”
“Then I took a shower. Came back out. They were both ready again.”
“Ready again.” Her voice was flat. “As in …”
“As in hard. As in wanting more.”
“Twice?” She looked personally offended. “They both went twice?”
“I’m very persuasive.”
“You’re very something.” She shook her head. Picked up her iced coffee. Set it down without drinking. “I need something stronger than this.”
“It’s eleven in the morning.”
“And you’ve just told me you had a threesome with two men who were supposed to be furious with you.” She rubbed her temple. “I think I’m entitled.”
I shifted in my seat. Winced a little. Bri caught it.
“Sore?”
“Very.”
“Good.” She grinned. “You deserve it. In the best possible way.” She leaned back, studied me. “So, what now? Was this a one-off? Some sort of closure shag before you all go your separate ways?”
“Thursday.”
“What’s Thursday?”
“We’re doing it again. That’s the arrangement now.”
Bri was silent for a long moment. I watched her process it. The disbelief cycling into something else. Amusement. Maybe even admiration.
Then she started laughing. That sharp, delighted laugh she saved for truly ridiculous situations.
“You came in here two days ago, juggling two men and trying not to get caught.” She wiped her eyes. “Panicking about calendar management. And now you’re shagging them both with their full knowledge and cooperation.”
“That’s the situation, yes.”
“I told you to text me when it all went tits up.”
“Technically, it did go tits up. Just not the way either of us expected.”
“No.” She raised her iced coffee like a toast. “I suppose it didn’t.”
I clinked my water glass against it. My body ached. My thighs were sore. I was going to need a really long nap before Thursday.
But I was smiling.