Chapter Fifteen
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Genevieve
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The bed is so comfortable I don’t want to move.
But then I stretch my limbs, and I can’t help the deep sigh of satisfaction that engulfs me.
There’s a soreness in my body that’s unlike anything I’ve felt before.
My breasts feel fuller and heavier; so does the area between my thighs.
Then my senses scream at me all at once.
I had sex for the first time ever, and it was spectacular.
Oh my god. Of course my breasts feel achy; they were suckled and nibbled on the whole night long.
And of course my pussy feels tender. I took three huge cocks—huge with a capital H, by the way—inside me, and once the pain disappeared, I came so hard I’m sure I passed out for a couple of seconds each time.
I never thought it would be like that. I never thought I would do it with three guys.
Me, Ms. Quinn, the girl who scares guys away because I’m too stiff and a stickler for rules.
And I’m too boring because I do nothing but teach first grade and stay inside my house for the rest of the time.
Collecting stamps doesn’t earn me any temptress points either.
Still, I love my life, and maybe having older parents had something to do with it, but I wouldn’t change anything for the world.
But I did it. It, as in have sex. And not just ordinary sex either.
I lost my virginity. To them. Them! And I was erotically transcended.
My cheeks now turn blood red in mortification as I recall my shameless cries of deviant ecstasy. Thank goodness I’m alone in their bed right now. I don’t think I could face them after last night.
But my mind continues to wander; stark memories of them taking full possession of me flirt with my senses.
Them cleaning me up, taking me again, bathing me, taking me again, and then finally kissing me goodbye.
It’s a teacher workday today, which means the kids are given a day off, and since I’d been excused from attending, I have a day off too.
They’re taking Jake to play baseball—one of their required activities—instead of taking him to the office so they could teach him the fundamentals of a hostile takeover and how to drink coffee like a billionaire.
But also, my time here is up, and that had been my cue to leave.
I had three days to whip them into shape, and I think I did a pretty good job.
Well, I should have left yesterday, but then they blocked my way, stripped me naked, and did the most indescribable things to my body, which explains why my body—not me—that’s an important clarification—seems to miss them.
It doesn’t help that the scent of their cologne from their showers earlier is still deliciously heavy in the air around me, provoking my mind with even more vivid images.
I guess it’s just as well they have no plans to marry, self-confessed commitment-phobics that they are, or I’d be falling in love with them and wanting them to marry me.
Yes, my practical, no-nonsense approach to whatever feels is going on in my heart saved me buckets of tears.
I said I can’t fall in love with them, and I didn’t.
They’re never going to marry, and certainly never ever going to marry me.
Once Jake’s parents return home, they’ll go back to their normal lives, and I to mine.
But what about the possibility of them losing their tech plant. Oh no, what have I done?
Marry me. Marry me...
My eyes fly open, and my heart starts to pound in my chest. Oh no.
I glance at the modern clock on the wall.
Fudge. Fudge. Fudge. How did I forget the most important thing ever? And now I’m going to be late.
I scramble out of bed and straight into the bathroom I usually use, running the shower while I brush my teeth.
After a vigorous scrub and barely taking enough time to pat dry, I pile on lotion, then slip into a skirt and top and a pair of sandals.
I do my best to ignore that some of my lotion now sticks to my clothes. Whatever.
Thank goodness I’m already packed and have been since the night before. I stuff my toiletries back into my bag, grab my suitcase, and head out the door. Once in my car, I open my window and leave my wet hair down, hoping the wind will help speed-dry it enough.
By the time I get to my apartment, I’ve officially run out of time.
I’m two minutes late. I fling off my clothes, grab the lacy dress in my closet, and use real swear words when I have to contort my body to pull up the zipper at the back.
White pumps and a matching handbag later, I fly out the door again, using stop signs and traffic lights to apply some makeup and put my hair into a bun.
After parking my car nearly a block away from where I have to be, I start to run. My hair tumbles out of the bun; I’m going to die from exerting myself this hard, and I don’t know why, but I’m crying.
Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Did I fall in love with three cocky billionaires after I explicitly told myself not to? Yes, I did. Stupidly, hopelessly, epically.
I stop to catch my breath, holding onto my sides while my heart burns even more than my limbs. What have I done?
I ignore the stares I’m getting, but I’m grateful no one is offering to help the strange girl in a lacy dress with wild hair, sobbing her eyes out on the sidewalk.
I straighten up, wipe my tears with my hands, and pull myself together. I have to do this. My friend needs me, and I won’t let him down irrespective of my broken heart.
Right.
I breathe in and out a few times and resume my sprint. It’s too late to arrive presentable, so I might as well arrive a little less late.
I’m huffing my lungs out by the time I reach the massive building. Inside, the scent of stale perfume and disinfectant hits me full in the face.
And then I see him, and my heart cracks a little. He looks so nervous and scared. I know he’s been pacing the floor, wondering if I’d make it.
Whatever tears I had to spill over my broken heart for falling in love with three—yes, all three—emotionally unavailable men, I send back into my internal reservoir for later extraction. In the dark with three pints of ice cream.
“Vivvy, I thought you wouldn't make it,” Josh says, coming toward me. A little more color in his cheeks now.
“What? No,” I say, smiling brightly and hitting his arm. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. I told you that. Don’t mind my hair. Bad hair day. Shall we?”
“Thank you,” he says softly as I link my arm with his.