Chapter Thirty-Three – Fawn
I said it once, and I’ll say it again: it’s official — I’m sexually exhausted Jello and a walking UTI waiting to happen.
My pussy is tender and swollen, to the point where I catch my breath thinking about it.
I never knew sex could be like this. The pleasure lingers even after I’m home in my loungewear.
Dylan and Torin — damn, every single time with them is just so overwhelming, but in an amazing way.
They’re my world now, both of them. I don’t know exactly when it began, but at some point, I crossed over some sort of boundary, and they became my world.
It’s hard to see myself making my way through life without them.
It all seems wrong, as if I were trying to breathe with half my lungs gone.
And Torin — God, when he said he nearly wasn’t here .
. . it ripped me apart on the inside. Not because it broke my heart and made me scared, but because it hurt on a level I can’t even explain.
I never want him or Dylan to go through that, not while I’m with them.
If darkness hits them, I’ll pull them out of that with my bare hands if I have to. I know they’d do the same for me, too.
Not only that, they make sure I come, like my orgasm is something they want to relish and not rush or skip. It’s such a stark contrast to Jason, who treated intimacy like a chore.
Now, I’m refreshed with a towel wrapped around my wet hair. I shuffle to my desk and fall into my chair. A part of me just wants to crawl into bed and let myself sink into it and let that exhaustion — no, that glorious afterglow — pull me under.
But responsibility tugs at me.
A long sigh escapes me as I reach for the keyboard, the screen flickering to life. I need to check my emails and see if my agent landed me any deals or at least sent me an update.
My inbox is overflowing, but I ignore everything when I spot the one from my agent. My fingers hover motionless over the keyboard. She usually writes very chatty emails, but not this one. It’s very brief.
No news. No deals. No interest from publishers and no one’s acquiring foreign rights at the moment. Not good.
I focus on the words until they start to blur, a dull ache developing at the base of my brain.
Not what I needed to hear today; not with the nursing home bills staring me down and my own bank account looking as if it’s holding its breath.
I recline back and rest my head on the cushion as I slowly let my breath out through my nose — a hard, defeated breath.
Think, Fawn . . . Think.
Delilah might be able to get me some extra work at the bar — she slays tips, but maybe it’s because her tits are shoved up against her chin and half the male crowd is drinking out of her hands.
I have a feeling Dylan and Torin might not be stoked about me serving drunk men; they’re already so protective as it is. Plus, I lack the confidence she has.
A loan from a bank? Perhaps. But just thinking about it makes my stomach turn. I have filled out those applications before — those enormous, humiliating pages that are like admitting to every bad life decision you ever made.
“Shit,” I curse, rubbing my temples. I cannot afford to let myself spin out like this.
My phone goes off with so many alerts, all happening at once. Blinking, I snatch it up.
Dylan: How was the ride home, princess? ;)
Torin: You know how it was. I just told you when you came into my room.
Dylan: I wanna hear it from our girl. Jackass. I’m trying to start a conversation.
Torin: You know you can just message and ask how she is . . .
Dylan: I asked how the ride home was! But how are you, princess?
Torin: Well done.
Dylan: Shut up and go get me a beer.
Torin: Fuck you lol
The screen is overflowing with messages, speech bubbles accumulating at an astonishing rate I can hardly follow. As I scroll back to the beginning, a tiny laugh escapes me.
I miss them already. Fuck.
Shaking my head, a smile lingers. They’re ridiculous. Completely, wonderfully ridiculous. And for a moment, the stress pressing on my shoulders eases.
I trace my thumb along the side of my phone, and that familiar warmth hits my chest. I should text them back before they start thinking I’m dead.
Me: Hello. I’m all good. Just at the computer, trying to figure some things out.
Dylan: Do you not know how to work a computer, lol? I’m joking.
Me: Of course I do, lol. I’m figuring out my grandpa’s fees. Anyway, you all good?
Dylan: I’m good, just got home from the rink, and now I’m thinking about you.
Me: Missing me already?
Dylan: Yup.
Torin: How much do you need?
Me: I can’t let you help me with this. I’ll be fine. I always land on my feet.
Dylan: Princess, let us help you.
Torin: Just tell me a number, and I’ll have the cash ready for you.
Me: Not happening. I can sort out the money. Thank you, though.
Dylan: Well, at least let us come cheer you up.
Me: I would love for you two to come over, but my poor pussy needs a break, and I need to get going with my book.
Dylan: Princess, we don’t always want that pretty pussy of yours. I just want you to sleep in my arms. But the pussy is a bonus, hehe.
Torin: Wanna know something funny? As he’s messaging you, he’s also listening to Maroon 5. Haha. He’s definitely missing you ;)
Me: It’s a good song. I’m missing the both of you, but I’ve really got to get on with this book.
Dylan: Ok :( Have you made a start on the book at all yet?
Me: Nope. I’m so behind because I’ve been very busy with you two . . . ;)
Torin: Forgive us for showing you such a good time.
Me: You’re forgiven lol.
Dylan: You should just write a book on us . . . That would be interesting.
Me: Well, sex sells. Haha.
Torin: Ours definitely would.
Dylan: Torin just came into my room and told me to give you a break so you can write.
Torin: You’re such a snitch.
Me: Will you two be at the rink tomorrow?
Torin: Yeah, baby, after a couple of car jobs.
Dylan: I will after I visit my mom.
Me: I’ve gotta be at the nursing home first thing tomorrow, and then I’ll head to the rink.
Dylan: Ahh, okay. I’ve got to go to the rink first, set up, then head to the nursing home, then back to the rink. Busy day.
Torin: What are you doing tomorrow night, baby?
Dylan: Probably us . . .
Me: LOL, and nothing?
Torin: Wanna go to the lake?
Me: That would be nice.
Dylan: That’s a date then ;)
We fall into a pattern — sending each other heart emojis at a rapid pace.
It’s silly but cute. I fling my phone away, and it lands face down, essentially putting itself in time out.
My gaze drifts back to the screen, and with a reluctant click, the manuscript appears.
My cursor blinks merrily away at me from the corner of a blank page marked Chapter One.
As soon as my hands touch my keyboard, my thoughts abandon me.
My mind doesn’t think about plot, structure, or characters.
It doesn’t replay my agent’s voice messages about pacing and theme.
It simply drifts back to Dylan and Torin like a reflex.
A couple of weeks ago, just thinking about letting any man get near me made my throat constrict and my skin prickle.
The thought of trusting anyone again made me feel like walking barefoot on broken glass.
But now? Now, I have two amazing men on my mind.
Their laughs. Their texts. The way they look at me is as if I’m something special and not just someone held together by worry, coffee, and unfinished manuscripts. The cursor blinks constantly and patiently, but my thoughts? Not so much.
Slightly leaning back in my chair, I bite my cheek, and my heart gets all twisted with longing.
How did everything change so fast?
How did I?
First, I need some caffeine, and I don’t mean any old stuff — good, consoling caffeine. It’s late, far too late for me to be drinking it, but I have a desperate need for something that will either shake my brain into focus or help me delude myself into thinking I’m getting something done.
I will get something typed up tonight, even if it’s just one sentence.