TWENTY-FOUR Endorphins
SADIE
I’m fairly certain that I’ve just skinned each of my knees like I did as a kid. Not that I was overly klutzy back then. But becoming destabilized at the wrong moment can lead to circumstances like this. And because the best my left hand can do is hang there like a triangular dinner bell, and because I of course fell on that side, my knees hit first.
So now my white leggings are bloodstained and possibly ruined.
Fantastic.
“I’m so sorry,” Zach is mumbling over and over. Along with, “Can’t believe I did that,” so low under his breath that it’s coming out like a mantra.
But this wasn’t his fault. I know better than to brace myself on a moving object, even if that object in this case was him. His complexion is pale and his lips devoid of any color. Also, his expression is that of someone who’s lost their beloved pet by inadvertently running them over.
Brittleness mixed with devastation.
“I’m fine, Zach,” I say as Dom and Jerome appear over the threshold that leads out to the quaint and old-timey wooden porch. “I just need a couple of band-aids.”
Together, the two other mens’ gazes flow from my face to the crimson stains oozing down my shins. It’s not like I can hide my clumsiness. Yet what I find most baffling is when Zach goes from apologizing to me to apologizing to them.
“I’m sorry. It was an accident,” his voice is both gruff and a little shrill.
“It’s not like you threw me to the ground,” I protest, because that’s how he’s acting. “I fell, that’s all.”
It happens all the damn time.
Zach is biting his cheek and blinking rapidly. Like he’s growing more upset not less. I don’t want him to feel that way, so I clutch at his forearm.
“I’m okay. This is minor. Nothing.” At his brows winging upward in the center, I clutch at him even more fiercely. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Dom and Jerome’s eyes flick back and forth between us before they apparently arrive at the same conclusion. The correct conclusion.
“They probably have first aid supplies,” Dom surmises, his chin aimed behind him back inside. “I’ll go buy some.”
Jerome nods, his manner as even-tempered as ever. “Let’s get her to those picnic tables.”
Those tables were likely covered in a half-foot of snow not long ago, but today with the sun out and shining, their surfaces are mostly clear and available for use. Removing my boots, Jerome and Zach each peel my leggings up, careful to lift the fabric when they reach the scraped skin. It’s tender and stings, but it’s not that bad.
It’s not like I haven’t had far worse.
Whatever’s been going on with Zach seems to have abated or at least diminished. His features are honed in concentration rather than pinched as he and Jerome simultaneously work on me with the supplies Dom brought out.
They’re being so solicitous, and it occurs to me that mere weeks ago, I wouldn’t have tolerated this. I would’ve rebelled at any hint of them doubting my strength or agency. Yet, they’ve proven that they do believe I’m strong and capable. So, what they’re doing now doesn’t aggravate me in the slightest.
Not at all.
I know this is about them taking care of me, of these men showing me affection. Nothing else.
I’m a bit stunned by the turnaround as I consider it. Still, self-reflection isn’t why we’re here. I think about what Win would purchase for her parents if she were in my place. I’ve never been good at gift-giving, but my bestie has a knack for it. I glimpse up at the display windows and see what I missed upon entry. A gift basket made up of local foods and beverages.
Raw honey. Maple syrup. Chocolate mice made by local chocolatier L.A. Burdick featuring white, milk, and dark chocolate. A bottle of mead wine. And a wheel of hard cheese.
“Zach, do you think your parents would like that gift basket?” I almost offer to spring for it, but at the last minute, shut up.
It was something my parents once argued over. The tug-o-war between my mother wanting to appear one hundred percent self-sufficient, and my father clamoring to spoil her. She wouldn’t allow him to give her anything she hadn’t specifically asked for. By name and description. Looking back, his natural inclination must’ve been to surprise her—like he loved to surprise me—and without that, whatever drew them together in the first place withered on the vine.
I remember wondering why they stayed married when any love they might’ve ever had for one another had morphed into irritation and resentment.
I recognize my mom’s behavior now as pride run amok. There wasn’t anything amiss with her need to be independent until it stretched beyond that and became all about her image and ego. If Mom were here right now, she’d tell—not ask but tell—Zach that she would pay for it. Hell, she’d even insist on having it overnighted to their mailing address.
Whether Zach as their son wanted that or not.
It would be emasculating. Especially if such instances happened on several notable occasions. So, I refuse to make the same mistake. Instead, Zach squints at the window in question, his face lighting up.
“Yeah, that might work. Be right back.”
Moments later, when we’re all clamoring back aboard the Sequoia, I purposely climb in the backseat with Zach letting Dom take the shotgun position by Jerome. The shop fortunately offered the option to ship the gift basket directly to Zach’s parents’ place in Boston with expedited delivery.
Zach should be happy right? Yet he’s quieter than usual and not necessarily more peaceful.
I reach over to lace my fingers with his, glad I chose to sit on the driver’s side so that my right hand is next to him. He quirks up one corner of his lips, but it doesn’t last long. Sadness hangs over him like a thundercloud.
“Mom’s not doing well with her MS,” he tells me. “She keeps having these relapses.”
I know little about multiple sclerosis. Only enough to know that it affects your balance and isn’t currently curable. That it can kill you.
“Oh, Zach...” But before I can express my sympathies, he goes on.
“She’s been my inspiration as a dancer for as long as I can remember, yet now she has trouble crossing a single room. It’s just... It’s hard to watch. It’s hard to hope for the future when her health is declining so rapidly. And financially, it’s wrecked them. They’re college professors, or Dad still is, anyway. But all the savings they’ve been tucking away is gone.”
I bring his hand up so I can kiss our linked fingers, trying to grant him some sense of solace. I may have grown up privileged when it comes to money but witnessing the effect it’s had on my three guys makes me want to set up funding accounts for each of them in the millions. If I could do it without insulting them, I would. Even if we end up parting ways.
Not that I can imagine doing that right now. Not with any of them.
Somehow, they’ve each grown to be a part of me. Parts I have zero inclination to do without. My plans with them have gone utterly off the rails, but I don’t care. I like our group dynamic. And ever since that night when we all started sleeping together something elemental changed between us.
Not that I can give my attention to such a massive concept right now. Zach needs comfort, and with all these limo-dark tinted windows, I can give it to him without anyone but Dom or Jerome spying on us.
Removing my seatbelt, I lean across the spacious backseat and press my lips to his cheek. Then, I kiss my way down his neck to his Adam’s apple. He embraces me, whispering into my ear.
“I’m all right. But thank you.”
He thinks this is all I’m offering, but I’m not. I want that smile he tends to wear back on his face, so I unbutton his pants and unzip his zipper.
“Sadie? Wait... Do you seriously want to do this right—Ohhh...”
My palm fisted around his cock hushes him right up, especially when it takes all of a second for him to harden in my grasp. That’s when I take him in my mouth, and any questions or objections melt like snow into a heated outdoor pool.
Nothing like a bit of roadhead to buoy a guy’s perspective.
This thick mushroom-shaped head of his can be a struggle to work around, but after licking up and down the underside of his shaft, I manage to take it all in, sucking on him and flicking my tongue along his slit.
“Holy shit. Oh, shit...”
His exclamations are music to my ears. Zach unfastens his seatbelt and shifts toward me.
“Let me lick your clit,” he says next, but I ignore him. For once, I want this to be about him. “Fuck... Sadie, take off your pants and sit on my face. Let me make you come.”
“No.” I basically purr the word like a kitten, already feeling my panties getting damp. All these guys have been with me, have gone to great lengths to bring me pleasure. And while Zach might be the quickest on the draw, he too has provided me with so many orgasms that I’m thrilled to close the gap. At least by one. “You first.”
“Then climb onto my cock instead.” He slides his clothing off, making as if to recline all the way across the backseat. I step onto the floorboard giving him room so he can. He chuckles. “Thank God for seat warmers.”
I snort at his joke, throw my boots into the back, and take off my leggings, panties, and socks. Straddling him, I glide into place.
“Hold on,” Jerome warns as we take a sharp curve, and Zach clings to me, pulling me close to his chest. It’s an intimate hold and experiencing him inside me while inertia tosses us around and the hum of the engine rattles through my system is quite unique.
I think I like it.
I also like doing this semi-publicly. Sure, no one can see through the tint, but cars and semis are buzzing by on occasion and the curves and hills mean I can’t always anticipate which direction our united bodies are going to deviate toward.
It’s kind of exhilarating.
Zach tears my sweater over my head, my bra following immediately after, and as he takes my left nipple into his mouth, I moan. Maybe due to the novelty of all this, my climax is approaching at light speed. Even if that’s not my goal. I pull up so he has to release me, riding him faster. Harder. I need to make him orgasm so I can.
But Zach is gritting his teeth, perspiration beading over his brows.
“Come, already,” I finally tell him, so close to the edge that I’m beginning to throb.
He gives me a feral grin. “You, first.”
Goddamn, but that’s erotic.
Still, since I’m bracing myself only by one arm, I’m less than steady and have to dig into his shoulder with my nails to stay even remotely upright. He hisses and I grunt out an apology.
“Don’t say you’re sorry. I love it.”
The scent of sex is filling the limited space in here, and I’m so turned on I feel like a kite caught in an updraft. Soaring and soaring and soaring. I glance up and catch Jerome observing us from the rearview.
“You know it would be hot as hell if we could all do different things to you at once back there,” he says to me, continuing to motor along these winding country lanes, and what he’s proposing makes me shake from the inside out. “Zach in your pussy. Dom in your ass. And me standing over the tangle of you all, fucking your mouth with my tongue as I come all over your tits.”
That does it. As much as I normally despise losing control, I can do nothing but thrust down onto Zach’s cock as the mother of all orgasms takes me over, body and soul.
“Oh... uuungn, oh...” I shout, helpless against the barrage of endorphins shooting out from my core.
Only distantly do I make out Jerome’s smug laugh along with his comment. “There she goes.”
He’s right. Not only do I go, I keep going, writhing over Zach until he throws his head back.
“Fuck.”
My breaths are juddering in and out of me in bursts just like Zach’s now are, and I feel a sense of achievement. I’m tempted to ask him if he feels better, but that might undo all my good work. So instead, I say aloud what Jerome’s suggestion has me thinking in my head.
“I like what you said,” I inform him, inform all of them. “Any way we can make that happen?”