“We won’t,” Banks assures. “Look, it’s done for now.” He raises his hands to show the phone is gone.
“For now?”
“I can’t promise I won’t use the account again,” Banks says seriously. “I just need to vent, Sulli. This isn’t easy for me.” Something raw in his eyes says the answer they’ve been withholding. I think I saw the word…when I glanced at the phone…I just didn’t want to fully accept it.
Rape.
A rape threat.
They’ll protect me. I’m safe. The thought quells some anxiety, but I’ve been fucking terrified of being kidnapped and worse ever since I overheard Michael Moretti, Banks’ dad, say it’s in the realm of possibilities.
I think about how Banks just needs an outlet to vent.
Maybe it’ll be cathartic for him. Maybe it’ll hurt him. I don’t know. I don’t fucking know, so who am I to tell him to stop? Akara is clearly okaying this too.
“Okay,” I breathe. “I think I get it.” I relax further into Akara’s stroking and kneading hands, and I watch Banks consider going to the bathroom.
Stay.
Don’t leave.
Touch me.
He’s about to cross the room, and I break apart my thighs. Sliding them flush against Akara’s spread legs again. The towel falls slightly open, and Banks has a clear view of my pussy. I already feel soaked for my boyfriends.
Akara and Banks exchange a wordless, hungered look, and then Banks stalks towards me while Akara presses his lips to the edge of my jaw, then trails burning, feather-light kisses to my earlobe. Shivers ripple down my body.
“Kits,” I rasp.
I crave force between my legs, the fullness. I crave their caring, loving, starved hands, the knowledge that I’m theirs to protect and adore in every stroke, in every grip, in every kiss and glance.
Akara’s breath warms the nape of my neck. His palms glide slowly along the towel at my thighs. I try to move his hands further between my legs, and he grips harder to the towel. He whispers sexily in the pit of my ear, “Not yet, Sulli.” God, his voice is another feather-light kiss, another caressing hand, another thread of love wound around my eagerness and longing.
The soreness from swimming is beginning to dissolve into melting desire.
Banks slowly kneels between my legs. “Banks—your knees.”
“They’re fine.” He hides any pain. While I’m leaning back against Akara, I keep my eyes on Banks. He clutches my calf, massaging the kinks.
“Oh God…yes, fuck.” My lips part, and a whimper comes out the second Banks slips his other hand beneath the towel. Oh my God. I’m being massaged to blissful paradise by two men who I trust and love, and I could throw myself at them and say, take me.
But they already have me completely.
Akara and Banks knead and toy, intensifying a primal, sexual craving inside me. I pulsate, needing. Wanting. Their bodies. In me. Against me.
On top of me.
All over me.
Banks rubs my clit, and I squirm against Kits, who makes a breathy, deep noise against my ear. He hardens against my ass, and I dig backward, aching for friction.
“Sulli,” he warns.
I want him.
I want them.
They grow a little rougher and urgent. Akara opens the towel further, exposing my boobs and perked nipples. He flicks his thumb over one and then leans over, sucking the other. My toes curl.
Oh fuck me.
I shudder and grab hold of his thigh and Banks’ bicep. I’m falling into these feelings, and I’d happily drown with them.
Banks stops massaging my bundle of nerves, and then he dips his head between my legs. “Banks,” I rasp and choke on a sharp breath. He kisses my heat, his skilled tongue swirling and sucking—and the sensitivity lights my entire body on fucking fire.
Holy…fuck.
I arch my back. “I can’t…I need…” More.
Akara kisses my collarbone, then my neck. “You need my cock?”
Fuck me please. I gasp at Akara’s words and Banks’ tongue. I almost rock into Banks’ face, but Akara clutches my legs, keeping them wide open. Keeping me stretched and throbbing.
I lean further back into Akara. Letting him hold me while Banks eats me out, and I dizzy, eyes rolling in carnal ecstasy.
He unties my bun, damp hair cascading wildly on my shoulders. Akara brushes my hair to one side, his fingertips sending shockwaves to my toes.
“You need his cock?” Akara breathes against my ear.
Fuck me please, I think again. Slip inside me all at once, at the same time. Closing in on a climax, I don’t want to come yet. I want to feel the fullness. I want to be closer than close to my boyfriends. Deeper than deep.
Both of them inside me.
“…can we?” I gasp out.
“Can we what?” Akara whispers.
“I’m pregnant,” I say like it’s an unknown fact.
Banks peers up from my pussy. They both go still. Stopping all movement and assessing me. I flush, a different kind of heat bathing me. I feel young.
I feel inexperienced. But why should I? It’s not like they’ve knocked up another girl before. As far as I’m aware, I’m their first.
Banks eyes my abdomen, and Akara’s fingers graze the soft skin below my belly button.
I’m not far enough along to show, but I’ve brought a glaring spotlight to the cinnamon roll in the oven. A new sort of intimacy strings between the three of us that didn’t exist before. Tethering us.
But the vulnerability causes a mild case of panic.
How much is really going to change? Will they want to touch me?
“Will you guys still want to have sex?” I ask, trying to snuff out the alarm. “Even if I’m pregnant?”
Unable to see Akara behind me, I wonder what expression they exchange. Amusement? Banks is smiling a little, and Akara’s hands affectionately sweep my belly.
My pulse calms.
Very huskily, Banks says, “Yeah, mermaid. We still want to make love to you. All night. All day.”
I smile, then peek up at Akara.
He smiles down at me. “Just not roughly.” He takes a short beat. “And we’ll probably all hate this, but I don’t think we should DP while you’re pregnant.” DP. Double Penetration.
Banks nods, agreeing, and his eyes drift back to my abdomen.
Disappointment punctures my smile. We’ve already worked up to the moment where Akara and Banks are inside me, together, and I’ve fantasized about returning to that peak of intimacy. To say that I enjoyed DP would be a big fucking understatement, and hearing that it’ll be put on a backburner for nine-months is a letdown. “What if we’re really fucking careful?”
“I don’t wanna test it,” Banks tells me.
“We’re not doing anything that could hurt you or the baby,” Akara adds.
“Cumbuckets,” I mutter.
“She’s sad,” Akara says in a teasing voice to Banks.
He wears a shadow of a smile. “She wants our cocks.” He speaks directly to me, and Akara cups my heat.
A strange, whiney cry comes out of me. “Fuck,” I breathe, voice higher-pitched. I just want them. I thrust against Akara’s hand.
Banks is watching and rubs himself while he’s on his knees.