33. The Start Of Something Beautiful
Chapter thirty-three
The Start Of Something Beautiful
Maria
Despite the pain brewing in my chest and the tear-soaked pillow beneath my head, it doesn't take long for me to fall asleep. It is dreamless and dark, which many might consider a blessing. But for me, it's quite jarring when I wake up, not knowing that I'd even fallen asleep in the first place.
My eyes feel heavy and my nose is plugged up. Right. The words from last night flit to the front of my mind: pure rejection. I'd offered myself up to them, telling them I was ready, and they'd told me no.
Was it because of Oliver? That I chose to be with him first instead one of them? Is it because I rejected them the first time?
I pad over to the bathroom and throw some water on my face. My reflection looks like it's been through hell.
That's when the scent of food hits my nostrils and my stomach turns over in kind. The sudden need for food hits me like a brick, and the only thing I can think of is succumbing to the siren's scent of deep-fried breakfast.
I quickly pull on an oversized shirt from Edward's closet and step out into the hallway, watching as the three men sit on the couch, tearing apart biscuits and slathering them in butter.
They look so... normal.
Something feels wrong about just walking in there like nothing's wrong, but I can't just stand here all day, waiting for them to leave. I'm just too damn hungry for that.
I clear my throat, run my fingers through my hair to make it a little more presentable, and head out there like I'm the star of the show.
"Morning."
The three men pause in their meals, their gazes slowly shifting to me as if I'm some kind of intruder in their home.
"What? Didn't get me anything?" I peer over Edward's shoulder, going up on my tip-toes to see if there's anything left I could perhaps nibble on.
"S-sorry. We thought you were going to sleep out the rest of the day. I've got another hash brown, if you'd like." Stan reaches into his brown paper bag and hands me a large round disc of fried potato, wrapped in a wax paper sleeve.
Drake rips off half of his buttered biscuit and hands it to me.
"I've got two strips of bacon I could save," Ed whispers as he stabs a wrinkly piece of scrambled egg.
"I... I wasn't saying you had to... I..."
What do I want to say? All common sense is leaving my head right now.
"I..." I take a hearty bite of the biscuit and almost met at the salty, savory taste of the butter. "Is it okay if we talk about last night?"
"That depends." Stan waves a fork in my direction. "How much do you remember?"
"All of it."
"So you remember what I told you." Ed continues to face away from me as he works on his meal.
"I do. And I know what I said, but... I think you're right."
"You think what now?!" Edward whirls around in his seat. I guess he hadn't been expecting me to agree with him.
"Oliver was... We'd grown close, and maybe he was right. Maybe it's because he looks so much like his father why I thought... What I wanted was to move on and forget it all."
"You mean pretend as if it never happened?" Drake bites off half of his biscuit and chipmunks it in one cheek.
"I... guess?"
"If there's one thing your friend Chelsea has taught me...
" He takes a swig of coffee and swallows the rest of his food.
"It’s that shoving your problems under the rug doesn't make them go away.
Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're not there.
And I'm not going to be used as your 'rug'. "
"That's not..."
I guess he's right, in a way. My need to move on quickly would be unfair to them, to use them like some kind of magic potion to make me feel better about myself.
"That's not what I meant to do, and I'm sorry. Do you think you guys can forgive me?"
The guys stare at each other for a while before they get up from their seats and crowd around me, all of them wearing smiles.
"Of course we forgive you," Edward whispers into my hair
"You've been through a lot. It wouldn't be fair of us to hold last night against you." Stan's arms curl around my waist, holding me close.
"And hey, if I can fuck up sometimes, you can too." Drake buries his head against the crook of my neck. "Second chances, right?"
"To second chances."
I know this is exactly where I want to be.
It takes the better part of a week and a half and talking to Chelsea for me to come to terms with what I actually want.
She helped me to overcome my own hangups, particularly with Benjamin and Oliver, and reminded me that my choices shouldn't be about moving on to save my emotional state, but to move forward in spite of it, so that I can grow and learn from the experience.
Spending some time alone helped too; it meant taking a week away from the guys, but Edward was more than happy to let me have it.
But in that time alone... I found myself missing them.
The way they talk to me, the way they look at me, how much they look out for me... I don't think I could be anywhere else.
I don't think I could be with anyone else.
So on the following Wednesday, I asked Edward if he could drop Alexander off at the daycare for a few hours. I bought the cheapest bottle of champagne I could find and poured four glasses before their arrival.
Why the hell am I so nervous about this?
It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door and the three men came pouring in, looking like I'd just set the place on fire. I had to assure them that nothing was wrong. I gesture for them to take a seat so that I can make my announcement.
"I took some time off to do some soul searching, to find myself and what I wanted out of life. All the answers pointed to you three." I take each one of the glasses from the counter and hand them out.
"I want to spend the rest of my days with the three of you. You've all shown me how much I matter to you, and I want to repay the sentiment." I heave a sigh and hold up my own glass.
"I think I'm ready. For real this time."
Instead of being surprised, the three men toast their glass against mine before taking a sip.
"To us," Edward says.
"To us." Stan and Drake follow, downing the rest of their drinks and placing their empty glasses on the coffee table.
"I just have one request. Just... can we go slower this time?"
“You’re in charge of this. You tell us what to do.”
I first look to Edward and I hook a finger in the waistband of his jeans.
“Strip.” The command comes out of my throat more forcefully than I’d intended. it sends ripples of pleasure down my spine.
A smile splits Ed’s face as he stands and obeys. He takes his time in revealing himself so that he can give me a show. He’s already a bit hard, from the looks of it.
“You two. Off.” I point to Drake and Stan, who start to do the same.
I start to lead them back to the bedroom, enjoying the show they’re giving me in my retreat.
They don’t hesitate to follow me in, stark naked by the time we get to the bed.
I take a seat at the head of the bed, my thoughts becoming swimmy as they climb in beside me, their hands roaming over my body and helping me to join them in their state of undress.
I’m ready this time. I can’t believe I have this chance again, but I know I’m ready.
I lick my lips as I stroke Edward’s and Stanley’s lengths. Who knew that they could feel so drastically different? They grow hotter and stiffer in my hands, their tips bobbing against their lower stomachs.
I have no idea where to start.
“What do you like during sex?” Drake’s voice purrs from my right side; he’s rubbing himself as well, not wanting to feel left out.
“I... like my breasts being played with. And I love it when someone goes down on me.” I turn and lock my gaze with Edward’s; he knows exactly how I respond to that kind of attention.
“Which would you like me to do?”
I bite down my lip and pick through my brain on how I want this to go. What’s wrong with starting off simple, right?
“How about you get under those covers and show me what your mouth can do?”
Drake’s mouth curls to one side as he gives me a mock salute.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He pulls up the covers and slides in from the bottom, worming his way up towards me underneath the blankets. I can feel his hot breath against my knees and then my thighs. His hands part me open and I feel my walls pulse with expectation.
My grip instantly tightens around the two lengths when I feel Drake’s tongue plunge inside me. Fuck, that’s good. More. I need more.
I shift lower until my calves rest on his shoulders, my eyes fluttering closed at the hot bathing of his tongue between my folds. Much different from the way Edward does it. More intense.
Guilt fills me then when I realize I’m comparing the two men; it feels like I’m cheating. I have to remind myself that Edward’s right next to me, watching all of this with approval.
“How is he?” he asks under his breath. His hips start going to work, pumping his length into my palm. I’m about to answer when Drake’s tongue hits a particularly sensitive spot, stealing my words and replacing them with a high-pitched keening sound.
“Heh, that good, huh? How about you show me how good feels?” Edwards rolls himself onto one hip, adjusting himself until his shaft is closer to my face. Wanting an easier angle, I roll myself onto my stomach and take him fully down my throat, relishing the taste of him.
Drake doesn’t skip a beat either; he resumes his “task” by eating me out from behind, his fingers splitting my folds apart so that he can get as deep as possible. I squirm on his mouth when his tongue pierces my entrance, flicking against my inner walls in a way I’ve never felt before.
If I’m not careful, I’m going to lose it before I’ve gotten my fill.
I lubricate Ed’s length from tip to base, relishing the sounds that erupt from his throat. I smile to myself when his head rears back and I see the twitch of his stomach.
I wonder how long he can last.
I remind myself there’s a third man in the room and turn to give Stanley a turn.
His length is different; instead of arcing up towards his stomach, he points straight out, making it easy for me to slide him across my tongue.
His brows knot together in pleasure as I lavish his girth with teasing sucks and licks.
Wait... this is my first time being intimate with him. No wonder he looks like that.
My two hands join my mouth around his shift and work the full length of him. A soft swear slips from between his teeth; he grabs onto the headboard to keep himself upright. I smile with pride that I have so much control over him.
Disappointment racks me when I no longer feel Drake’s mouth on my folds. Disappointment turns into surprise when I feel the warmth of him against my back, his arms wrapping around my waist, and the tip of his head seeking my entrance.
“You didn’t say please,” I whisper teasingly over my shoulder. Drake huffs a laugh before kissing my shoulder blade.
“Please?”
I hum my acceptance before going down on Stanley once more.