“Don’t stop,” I gasp.
He captures my throat and bears down harder, faster. “Don’t worry.”
The table rocks underneath us, silverware falling off the table. His hips are machines.
“Now, mate. That’s how you fuck our woman.”
Pressure is building inside of me and it’s no wonder. I’ve got this man huge and thick inside of me, the intensity and purpose in his gaze stealing the air from my lungs. And my other two lovers stand behind him, watching with unconcealed lust as I’m brought to the brink of screaming. No, I am screaming. A plate falls off the table and smashes on the ground. My toes curl up and that quickening sensation I became very, very acquainted with last night is starting to make itself known. It’s the kind of orgasm that only comes from the inside. No outside stimulation. Just the incessant rubbing of that deep, secret place and the knowledge that I’m the key to my man’s pleasure and the only way he can achieve his release is through this. This wild, animalistic rutting. This unabashed enjoyment of my body.
“Come on it,” he growls against my mouth. And before I can take a single breath, he’s pushing me down to the table, pinning me there with his hand on my throat and looming over me, entering me so swiftly now that there is barely a breath of time between one aggressive drive and the last. “I could never give enough back to you, Elise. Never. You’ve given me so much already. But I can protect you and feed you and make you moan, can’t I? I can fuck you the way you need it. Dirty and mean, baby. Come on it.”
The rush of pleasure is so sharp, it’s almost painful. My back wrenches off the table into an arch and I wrap my thighs around Gabe like a vise, holding him in a deep thrust and he grits his teeth, grinding it into me deeper, all three of them roaring in triumph while I shake, my muscles popping and straining. I’m trapped between this world and the next, my core flexed dramatically, my flesh converging on Gabe’s and rippling, squeezing. I don’t know how to come down. I’m lost up here and I can’t see the ground.
But finally I regain some sense of reality, thanks to Banks and Tobias kissing me in turn, their mouths moving on my neck and shoulders.
And Gabe is still hard.
I must have made that discovery out loud, because everyone’s heads move on a swivel. We look at him, then down at his still extremely erect penis. With a cocky smile, he pulls up his sweatpants and swaggers down the hallway. “I think I’ll save it for tonight,” he calls back over his shoulder.
We all stare at his retreating back like he’s an alien lifeform.
Tobias exhales. “I feel like a proud father—”
Gabe comes running back down the hallway coated in sweat. “I lied. I can’t wait that long. Please, Elise. Even a hand job…”
“Bloody hell,” Tobias mutters.
Laughing freely, my heart swelling inside of me, I slide off the table onto my knees.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It might be November and slightly chilly outside, but I haven’t had a backyard in a long time, so I feel I must take advantage of Gabe’s. I go through his closet until I find the biggest, thickest fleece he owns and pull it on. Tobias watches from his lean in the bedroom doorway, visibly amused as the garment drops to well below my knees. He continues to watch me as I slide past him down the hallway, his amusement giving way to thoughtful silence.
We’ve been quiet since Banks and Gabe left for work, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about the quiet. It’s like we’re caught in a welling of anticipation. We’re enjoying being together, the lack of pressure, the fact that we have feelings for one another. It’s companionship with a wild undercurrent of attraction that keeps my senses alive at all times.
I sit down on a plastic chair in the backyard and bundle my knees up to my chest, tucking them into the fleece with the rest of me. It’s quiet here. Nothing but the sound of wind and the occasional car driving by on the other side of the house. I let my breath out and watch the outline of it dance in the air, allowing my neck to loosen and tip back, resting it on the chair. After a few minutes, the back door opens again and Tobias emerges holding two cups of something hot, steam twisting around his knuckles.
He hands me one and sits down in the chair beside mine. Cautiously. Like he’s not sure if the plastic chair is a viable piece of furniture.
A drowsy giggle finds its way up my throat. “You look like so out of place. Like someone accidentally put their Rolex in an old toolbox.”
His grin comes easily. “I’m not a complete snob, you know,” he says, nudging the leg of my chair with his toe. “My upbringing was entirely modest. Typical. It’s just been a while since I’ve spent any real amount of time outside of my flat. Suddenly I’m in Queens eating bagels.”