THE MORNING AFTER, PART TWO #3
Hunter is the one who breaks the tension, with a low, dirty laugh. “We can manage that.”
A silence, again. I glance down, and the ache between my legs intensifies. My thighs are pressed tight together under the table, but I can feel wetness pooling, even now, every motion bringing back the memory of last night. I want to tell them, but I’m embarrassed, suddenly shy.
Lachlan reaches across the table and takes my wrist, thumb circling gently. “Are you still sore?” he asks, the concern genuine, voice dropping low.
I nod. “A little. Mostly just…” I trail off, cheeks burning.
Hunter’s voice, low and full of velvet threat. “Say it.”
I swallow. “Mostly just horny.”
The effect is instant. Lachlan’s thumb tightens on my wrist. Hunter’s eyes go dark, pupils wide and hungry.
Neither man speaks. Instead, under the table, Hunter’s hand slides onto my thigh, the heat of his palm searing through the thin shirt and the even thinner panties beneath. He doesn’t move higher, but the implication is clear. I shift, and the friction sends a tremor up my spine.
Lachlan sees it, and his jaw ticks. He leans closer, voice gone even softer. “You want to leave? Go back to my place?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
But Hunter’s hand moves, slow and deliberate, up my thigh to the crease where it meets my hip.
His thumb presses, just enough to make me squirm, then runs along the waistband of the panties.
I glance at the table, terrified that Barb will see, but she’s across the room, yelling at the cook behind the counter.
Hunter’s fingers slip inside the waistband, find the wet heat waiting there, and press against my clit. I inhale, sharp and bright, but don’t move to stop him.
“You’re soaked,” he whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear.
Lachlan’s hand joins his, fingers splaying on my other thigh, higher, higher, until his thumb finds the damp spot at the edge of my panties and presses, just enough to make my whole body tense.
The two of them work in tandem, not rough but not gentle either, stroking and teasing, each daring the other to go further. I grip the edge of the table, white-knuckled, every nerve ending on fire.
And then, with absolute composure, Barb appears at the end of the booth, coffee pot in hand. “Warm up?” she asks, voice flat as the surface of the moon.
I nod, mute, as Hunter’s fingers circle my clit, relentless and slow. Lachlan’s hand cups my ass under the coat, squeezing, and then a big finger begins to worm into my asshole. Holy shit is this really happening? I bite my lip so hard it almost bleeds.
“Big day ahead?” Barb asks, pouring for Lachlan, then for Hunter. She glances at me, and for a second, I see her eyes flicker to my flushed face, the way I’m gripping the table, the motionless tension in my body.
“Yeah,” I croak. “Very big day.”
She shrugs, moves on.
As soon as she’s gone, Hunter pushes two fingers into my vag, the motion hidden by the drape of the coat. I arch my back, a small, helpless sound breaking free.
“Oh!” I huff. “Oh my god!”
Lachlan strokes my cheek with his left hand, his thumb wiping away a bead of sweat. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and the words set me on fire. “You’re so responsive, sweetheart.”
It doesn’t take long. I’m already on edge, and the risk of being caught just makes it worse.
Hunter fucks my pussy with his fingers, slow and deep, while Lachlan continues fingering my ass, and the sensation builds and builds until I’m shaking, teeth clenched, holding back the scream with pure willpower.
I come, hard, in a silent, convulsive rush, my whole body going taut, then loose.
Hunter grins, slow and dirty, and withdraws his hand, sucking his fingers clean.
Lachlan pulls his finger out of my asshole before bringing it to my lips.
I lick it with my tongue, uncaring of who sees, as he watches with avid eyes.
“Does it taste like ass?” he breathes. “Your asshole’s sweet, baby girl, so don’t be afraid to get more.”
Holy shit, what is happening? But I suck his finger into my mouth.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. “I love the taste of my ass on your finger, and even more when it’s on your cock. Give me more.”
Lachlan lets out a choked chuckle, and then kisses my forehead, gentle, and the contrast almost makes me cry.
We sit there, the three of us, in the ugly light of Patsy’s, breathing hard and grinning like idiots.
Finally, Hunter tosses a wad of twenties on the table, stands, and holds out a hand. Lachlan does the same, and I take both, letting them pull me out of the booth and into the sharp, cold light of the day.
Outside, the air is so bright it hurts, but I don’t care. All I can think about is getting back to the apartment, to the safety of their arms, and being used again, and again, until I forget my own name.
We walk the three blocks in a silence thick with promise, and the world around us is nothing but backdrop, a meaningless blur.
Nothing matters except this: the three of us, alone, insatiable.
And the knowledge that soon, I’ll be getting more