“Oh God. Grey…fuck…I love it. Fuck me.”
My mouth hums against her pussy before I blow against her swollen needy clit as I move my finger slowly, so fucking slowly in and out of her pussy, teasing her and watching her entire body shudder as she chokes out her moans.
“Watch. Watch your body come, Donovan,” I growl, flicking my tongue, making her scream.
Her head lifts, and I look up as I eat. I could watch her forever. Donovan coming might be the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. I want to lie in bed all day making her come over and over and never stop watching her. My speed picks up, increasing with every one of her breaths and pleas, fingering her harder and harder.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Yes. I’m going to come.”
Liam alternates between her neck and her breast, kneading and sucking on her nipple as I ramp her up closer and closer to bliss, her eyes on what I’m doing. She’s fucking perfection, riding my finger, hand gripped on the couch, the other on one of her breasts.
“Is this everything you wanted, Cherry?” Liam whispers into her cheek.
She doesn’t answer. She can’t. She’s lost to what we’re giving her. Her gaze is locked on me, and I’m struck by this moment. I think she might be everything I’ve ever wanted. Her soft walls start to close in hard around my finger, squeezing, so I slip in another as I lower my mouth back down over her swollen clit and take my final taste. I pound into her with my fingers and flick my tongue faster over her swollen bud, hearing her struggle to catch her breath.
“Open,” Liam whispers, calling my eyes.
His finger slips into her mouth, and she grabs his wrist, sucking as his mouth seals over her nipple. It’s in that moment—filled by us, loved by us—that she comes. Hard and violent. Arching her back off the couch, hand in my hair, shaking and coating my fingers with her release. Eyes never leaving me.
She falls back, breathless, and Liam whispers to her, brushing her hair from where it’s stuck to her forehead. My hand withdraws slowly, begrudgingly leaving her, but not before I lick her clit, making her shiver, and press gentle kisses into her. Donovan’s eyes are closed as I sit up, her breathing beginning to slow down. She’s spent, worked over, laying out between us. My gaze drifts over her gorgeous body, half held in Liam’s arms possessively.
That posture makes me meet my best friend’s eyes. He looks down at my hands, one coated in Donovan and the other gripped over her center just as possessively. We’re like two lions that don’t want to share their prize.
I knew it when we started this. When we thought it out silently over her moans. This is different. And he knows it too.
She lets out a contented sigh before rolling sideways, head in Liam’s lap and legs closing, pushing my hand away. I grab a blanket from over the back of the couch and cover her sated body, taking my position at her feet and letting my head fall back against the couch as I adjust my hard cock.
She’s the only one getting off tonight, but still, neither of us are going to leave her. Because unlike any of the others, this one—Donovan—she’s the one we don’t want to share.
Liam spoons the cereal into his mouth, focused on his bowl, as I sit on the barstool next to him, staring at her. Donovan’s been silent since we all woke up this morning. She’s looking between us over the rim of her coffee mug, those ocean eyes getting occasionally hidden by steam.
“Okay. Listen up,” she delivers like a drill sergeant, stopping Liam midbite.
We look at each other and then back to her, waiting for what she’s about to say.
“Here’s the deal.” Her bangs swish as she shakes her head, then glares at the both of us. “We’re all adults. Or practically adults. And there’s no way I would ever believe that was your first double-fuck rodeo.”
“Is that a compliment, Cherry?” I toss out, taking a bite out of my bagel.
Liam looks at me and shrugs. “Maybe just an overall rating for our skill level. Five double fucking stars.”
She lets out a groan, but it’s accompanied by her knockout smile, as we both laugh.
“Can we just agree that we got that out of our systems, with the help of some bad ideas, like—skinny-dipping, crazy adrenaline from the fight, and some Jack Daniels? It was a perfect storm that led to…well, you know, but now we’re going to move on.”
Liam clinks the spoon gently against the bowl as he crosses his arms over his chest. She’s looking between us, but I’m not sure what she wants us to say. There’s no way I can move on after last night. I didn’t flush her from my system—she just invaded it, filling in all the cracks and crevices. I could no more forget about last night than I could my own name. But I want her for myself, and that’s not what she’s asking.
She places her mug on the counter, looking between us. “Can we just be us again?”
“Yes.” Liam nods, and I one hundred percent know he’s thinking my same thoughts.
“Grey?” she breathes out, nervously.
“We’re always just us, Cherry. It doesn’t happen again.” My face shifts to Liam’s. “Guaranteed.”
He looks back at his cereal, jaw tensed, but she doesn’t notice.
“Thank you. Okay. So friends again, no overthinking things. Just back to us.”
Her shoulders relax as she says it, and I smile tightly. This feels like foreshadowing, the moment that I will look back on and be able to say, “That’s when the destruction was set in motion.”
She comes around the counter and kisses Liam on the cheek, then mine. “I’m going to change, and then can we get out of here and stop for burgers?”
“Absolutely.”
The moment she’s out of sight, Liam looks at me. “Can we just be good and figure this shit out later?”
I nod. “Yeah. Brothers, always. Nothing changes.”
Liam agrees, tapping the counter as a smile grows on his face. “Watch this,” he says quietly to me, before yelling up toward the stairs, “Hey, Van.”
Her “Yes?” is faint but heard before Liam adds, “Since we’re just friends again, you wanna make out?”
I laugh loudly as she screams his name with venom, and I push his shoulder. He’s such an asshole, but it’s the exact kind of icebreaker that’s needed.
“This might be more fun than we’re giving it credit,” he laughs.
We’re both grinning as we continue eating our breakfast and let last night become a distant memory. At least that’s the hope. Except one of us is comparing every bite to the taste of Donovan, and it’s not Liam.
Donovan
THE PHONE INSIDE MY BAG hasn’t stopped vibrating all through my art studies class, and it’s made the smile grow on my face until it’s impossible to hide anymore. I know it’s them—God, they’re impossible. But what do I expect? It’s Grey and Liam—overbearing insistence is par for the course.
My fingers smudge the edges around the oranges I’ve drawn, tilting my head to look at the bowl of still art, appropriately called oranges in a bowl. The earthy, kind-eyed teacher who’s always in some kind of corduroy pant walks behind me, watching as I deepen the contrast in my sketch by rubbing my finger against the pencil.