Chapter 9 #3
My first orgasm builds embarrassingly fast. Between Boone’s talented tongue, Jesse’s mouth on my breasts, and Wyatt kissing me like he’s trying to steal my soul, I don’t stand a chance. When I come, it’s with a cry that I pray my dad doesn’t hear one ranch over.
“That’s one,” Jesse says against my skin, grinning like he’s keeping score.
“One’s enough,” I pant.
“Liar,” Boone says, replacing his tongue with his fingers. “You can do better than that.”
“I’ll die.”
“You’ll be fine,” Wyatt assures me, his hand tangling in my hair. “We’ll make sure of it.”
When I come the second time, it’s with Jesse’s fingers inside me, Wyatt’s mouth on my breast, and Boone kissing me through it all, swallowing my cries and tasting my pleasure.
“Need someone inside me,” I gasp. “Now.”
“Demanding,” Wyatt observes, but he’s already reaching for the bedside drawer.
“You have no idea,” I tell him, pushing Boone onto his back and climbing on top of him. “Condom?”
He holds one up, already tearing it open. “Prepared.”
I sink down onto him in one smooth motion, both of us groaning at the sensation. He fills me perfectly, stretching me just on the edge of too much in the best way.
“Fuck, Callie,” he breathes, his hands gripping my hips.
“That’s the plan,” I agree, starting to move.
I ride him hard, chasing my own pleasure with zero shame. Jesse moves behind me, his hands joining Boone’s on my hips, guiding my rhythm.
“You look incredible like this,” he tells me, his cock pressing against my lower back.
“I always take what I want,” I manage between gasps.
“Good,” Wyatt says, kneeling beside us. “Take this too.”
I lean forward to take him in my mouth while still riding Boone, and the angle change makes Boone hit something inside me that has me moaning around Wyatt’s cock.
“Christ,” Wyatt grits out, his hand tangling in my hair, not forcing, just guiding.
It’s messy and uncoordinated and absolutely perfect. When my third orgasm hits, I have to pull off Wyatt to breathe through it, my whole body shaking as Boone continues thrusting up into me.
“My turn,” Jesse declares the moment I can think again.
They rearrange me onto my hands and knees with Jesse behind me, and this angle is different, deeper. He pushes in without preamble, setting a pace that has me grabbing the headboard for leverage.
“Harder,” I demand.
“Greedy.”
“You love it.”
“I really fucking do,” he admits, his hips snapping against me with enough force to make the bed frame protest.
Wyatt slides underneath me, his mouth finding my clit while Jesse fucks me from behind, and the dual sensation is almost too much. I’m oversensitive from three orgasms, every nerve ending firing at once.
“Can’t,” I gasp. “Too much—”
“You can,” Wyatt insists against me. “One more.”
“It’s too much.”
“You’ll survive.”
And somehow, impossibly, he’s right. The fourth orgasm builds slowly, starting at the base of my spine and spreading like wildfire. When it hits, I scream loud enough that Jesse has to put his hand over my mouth, which just makes it hotter.
He follows me over his own edge, burying himself deep with a string of curses. We collapse sideways, him still inside me, breathing like we’ve run a marathon.
“Water,” I croak. “I need water or I’m going to die of dehydration.”
“Drama queen,” Boone laughs, but he gets up to fetch water from the kitchen.
He comes back with four bottles and we drink greedily, the brief intermission letting us catch our breath. I’m sprawled across the bed like I’ve melted, every muscle loose and satisfied.
“Round two?” Wyatt asks, and I notice he’s still hard.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“Just trying to make sure you remember this.”
“Trust me,” I say, pulling him down for a kiss, “I’m not forgetting anything about this.”
This time when he slides into me, it’s slower, more deliberate. He watches my face as he moves, cataloguing every gasp and whimper like he’s taking notes.
“You’re thinking too much,” I tell him.
“Someone has to.”
“Not during sex they don’t.”
He responds by changing his angle, hitting that spot that makes me see stars, and okay, maybe thinking during sex has its benefits.
Jesse and Boone aren’t idle—hands and mouths everywhere, overwhelming my senses until I can’t tell where one touch ends and another begins. When I come this time, it’s with tears in my eyes from the sheer intensity of it.
We collapse in a sweaty heap, just wrecked. Rita chooses that moment to walk into the bedroom, my bra still hanging from her horn.
“Your goat has terrible timing,” Jesse observes.
“My goat has perfect timing,” I correct, reaching for my clothes. “She’s telling me I need to get home before someone realizes I’ve been gone for two hours.”
“Stay,” Boone says, catching my wrist.
“I can’t. I have to work, and if I don’t show up, Dad will send out a search party.”
“When will we see you again?” Jesse asks.
“Tonight?” I suggest, then laugh at myself. “God, I sound desperate.”
“You sound perfect,” Wyatt says quietly, and something in his voice makes me pause.
“Careful,” I warn, pulling on my shorts. “That almost sounded like feelings.”
“Just stating facts,” he backtracks.
I finish dressing in silence, aware that all three of them are watching me with expressions I don’t want to analyze. Rita follows me to the door, satisfied with the chaos she’s caused.
“Callie,” Boone calls as I’m leaving.
I turn back. “Yeah?”
“Be careful out there. The Facebook mob is probably planning their next move.”
“Let them come,” I say with more bravado than I feel. “I’ve got an attack goat and a reputation that’s already in tatters. What else can they do?”
“Don’t tempt fate,” Jesse warns.
“Too late,” I tell him. “I’ve been tempting fate since I knocked on your door.”
“It’s just sex,” I remind myself. “That’s all this is. Great sex. Incredible sex. Life-altering sex. But still just sex.”
Rita bleats skeptically.
“Nobody asked you,” I tell her.
But she’s right, and we both know it. Somewhere between the first kiss and the fifth orgasm, this became something more than just messing around with the boys next door. Something more than just scratching an itch.
Something that’s going to end badly for everyone involved.
And I can’t seem to make myself care.