Chapter Twenty-Four – Fawn #2
“You deserve everything,” he says, as if he means every syllable. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you, princess.”
My abdomen clenches tight at the thought, and I’m wetter now than I’ve ever been in my life.
Before my lips can touch his again, a sharp creak echoes through the room.
We both whip our heads to it. Torin’s standing at the threshold with white roses that are so beautiful, they don’t seem real.
The air feels like it has stopped moving.
I gasp for breath as I leap to my feet so fast, my legs feel like they’re going to buckle on me.
“Torin,” I manage, breathless.
He’s breathing hard, as if he ran here — or like he heard too much. Before I can say anything more, my lower lip starts shaking. I’m unsure of what to focus on — the floor, him, or Dylan. “Torin, I . . . I . . .” I stumble over my words.
He passes me without saying anything then places the flowers carefully on the coffee table.
Dylan stands beside me, and I’m between them — both tower over me, silent, staring at me.
Their presence fills the room, and in that moment, I realize I like them .
. . both of them. Not in the fleeting, uncertain, don’t-get-too-close way I’ve trained myself to feel.
It slams into me like some crazy wind, fast and unavoidable, stealing the breath right out of my chest. My heart squeezes so tight, I have to blink just to steady myself.
My mind is going into overdrive. I don’t know what to say, but my mouth starts moving.
“Look, I like you two, okay! There you go, I’ve said it. And truth be told, I’ve even pleasured myself thinking of both of you.”
Fuck! Why did I admit that?
With raised eyebrows, they both look at each other then back at me.
“I should . . . go . . .” I whisper as tears threaten my eyes. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t wanna come between you, and it’s getting all complicated. I’m sorry.”
As fast as my feet can, I rush toward the front door, my eyes burning, my heartbeat wild. I don’t dare look back.
A hand closes around my wrist and stops me in my tracks — quick and solid, but not so strong that it scares me. I’m spun around.
Torin towers over me, his chest rising and falling with labored breathing, his eyes darker but not crazed, only determined.
He lifts his other hand and wipes away the tear slipping down my face with his thumb.
He then presses his forehead against mine, his touch alone settling me.
His free hand moves to cup my head, thumbs pressed to my temples, as if he’s attempting to anchor me — or himself.
Torin breathes out slowly. His gaze flicks to my lips then back to my eyes.
Then down again.
His tongue darts out, brushing against his lower lip in slow motion, as if savoring the taste of his own anticipation. The pause hangs thick for an interminable moment before he leans in. Our lips meet. The kiss is not hesitant. It’s Torin, his pent-up restraint finally breaking open.
His hands steady my head to guide the kiss and drive it deeper; he tilts my head just the way he wants it. The door creaks behind me as he pushes me back against it, as if he’s been waiting for weeks and can’t let me get away now.
I feel suspended, lifted, like I’m floating and falling all at once.
His kiss has a sort of tender hungriness to it, like he’s trying to imprint my features on his mind. Grabbing his flannel shirt, I draw him closer without thinking.
Somewhere behind him, Dylan exhales, a gentle sound that registers with me. It sends chills inching up my spine, but I don’t dare look over Torin’s shoulder, not while he kisses me like this, as if I am something he’s been too frightened to pursue but now holds tight with every fiber of his being.
Torin breaks away from the kiss, his lips pressing against my forehead while his thumbs caress my face, gathering the last of my tears as if they mean more to him than the kiss itself.
It takes me longer than it should, but I muster up the courage and look over his shoulder.
Dylan slides beside Torin, and they create a wall between me and everything else. They’re not trapping me so much as keeping me grounded. It’s like the air around me is vibrating with all the unspoken words.
God, they’re both so hot.
Towering. Intense.
And looking at me like I’m something worth wanting.
Torin scans me carefully, like I am something precious. “What do you want, Fawn?”
The solution comes to me like a bolt to the heart, wild and utterly implausible. I shake my head; it’s too much, too extreme, too selfish.
But I can’t hold it in. I can’t lie to them.
“The bo-both of you, but . . .” I say, barely audibly enough to hear, but it’s like electricity in the air anyway. Wow, I’m really admitting this truth to them when I haven’t let myself even think about it.
Silence hits, and time feels like it has stopped.
Dylan’s features soften to the point of melting, and he leans in close enough that his hand comes to rest on my shoulder, his touch like a reassuring hug. “Fawn,” he breathes, “you can have both of us.”
My breath skips. My heart slams.
Torin tilts his head. “You don’t have to pick.”
The tension between us sparks then re-forms into something terrifying and exhilarating all at once. My body moves before my brain has time to stop me; I lean forward, stuck between them, pulled into the magnetism of their touch, their heat, their hands—
Dylan’s words become a warm whisper against my ear. “We mean it, princess.”
Torin strokes my jaw, turning my face toward him. “Only if you want it,” he tells me, his eyes locking with mine. “No pressure.”
The way they’re both looking at me right now? It feels like they’re seeing every piece I’ve tried to hide and want it anyway.
My lips part in a nervous breath. “I . . . I don’t know how this works,” I admit with burning cheeks.
“That’s okay,” Dylan whispers, reaching up to push a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Together,” Torin finishes, his eyes darkening.
They’re there, on either side of me, their shoulders almost together. For the first time in what feels like years, I feel seen and wanted. Adrenaline pumps through my body. I want this.
Dylan steps forward, and with one efficient swing, he lifts me into his arms like I weigh nothing — and my body takes over before my mind catches on. My legs automatically wrap around his waist, and my hands land on his shoulders.
I can feel myself melting into him. He sits down on the couch and moves me onto his lap. His bulge presses up against me, and he places his hands on my hips like he’s reassuring me.
Torin slides right into position beside us, so close that our legs actually touch. His eyes dart back and forth between me and Dylan.
Dylan’s voice breaks the tense silence. “Is this really what you want, princess? To have both of us. Fully?”
The answer isn’t hard. Not anymore. “Yes,” I reply, softly but surely.
Dylan’s strong chest moves with his exhale, like he’s been waiting for that word. His kiss on the side of my neck isn’t aggressive or passionate. Torin places his hand on my thigh, reassuringly solid, his thumb moving back and forth like he’s soothing himself as well as me.
His voice is deep and reassuring. “If you want to stop at any point, just say the word. We’ll follow your lead. Always.”
I nod because I can’t seem to form real words. I don’t want it to stop or want the moment to slow.
“I . . . I don’t want to stop,” I manage a whisper.
Dylan lets a shaky laugh of disbelief escape him.
“Then we’re right here,” Torin hums while still circling patterns on my thigh. “You’re ours now.”
The last words echo in my mind, yet another thought punches through.
“Wait,” I gasp, my hand on Dylan’s chest before he can draw me back into him. “I’ve only got one rule.”
They look at each other, then at me, soft, attentive, waiting.
“I don’t want either of you to see my stomach,” I state.
No judgment. Just understanding.
Dylan shifts me off his lap, and then they both move back from me — protectively, and respectfully. Torin unbuttons his flannel shirt, button by button. Dylan yanks off his shirt with one swift motion.
Heat pours into my face; a blush so intense, I feel it in my throat.
They stand in front of me, a blockade of chiseled male beauty.
Torin, with his darkest eyes and tattoos that seem like they’re alive under the lamplight, offers his crimson flannel shirt to me.
Dylan exudes smug bravado as his white shirt slides silently to his feet.
“We understand, princess,” he says, like a promise.
I find myself moving my gaze between them, their chiseled abs and those sexy Vs that disappear into low-slung denim waistbands. I grasp Torin’s flannel shirt.
“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Torin says, locking his gaze with mine. “We’ll turn around.”
They do, showing off their backs — muscular and large, covered in tattoos, the scene is breathtaking.
My hands shake with nerves while I grab hold of the dress’s zipper. “Don’t peek.”
“We wouldn’t dream of doing that to you, princess,” Dylan says over his shoulder.
I slide out of the dress, and it falls around my feet like a puddle.
The air caresses my bare skin, and I break out into goosebumps.
I slide on Torin’s flannel shirt; it reeks of him, of soap, cedar, his cigarettes.
I deliberately leave four buttons undone so it stops just above my navel.
My boobs are exposed, my nipples puckered into hard buds against the fabric.
“Okay,” I coo. “I’m ready.”
They turn around.
A gasp escapes Dylan as he draws in a quick breath of air, and that alone is satisfaction enough. Torin’s eyes shadow and rake over me from my face to my bare chest. His feet don’t move; instead, he holds still, like he wants to devour me.