Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Just the tip.
I let it rest there with just a small amount of pressure, closing my eyes so I can focus on every sensation. Her muscles flutter against me, anticipating more.
I give her a little more. Just another inch. I have to clench my glutes to hold back from surging forward. My body craves her tight, wet heat. Sinking into her warmth and softness would be a balm.
I’m an asshole for all of this, for going along with Jesse, for claiming Taylor when I’m never going to be capable of being the kind of husband she deserves, for not being honest about what her life here is going to be like.
I haven’t lied to her, but I haven’t told her the truth, either. It’s just as bad.
Another inch and her body opens to me like the sweetest summer bloom. I push an arm beneath her, needing to bring her closer.
“How does it feel?” I ask, whispering the words close to her ear.
“Good,” she whispers back. Our exchange makes me feel better, like we’re in this together. I don’t know her motivation for going along with this, but I don’t need to. All I need to do is take care of her so that she remembers this as pleasurable.
When I push inside her to the root, she gasps, and when I withdraw and thrust into her hard, she moans.
“Just good?”
Her fingers dig into my shoulder as her body quakes with each thrust. Her laugh is just a whisper, but it sounds real enough. “Really good… ohhhh.”
I grind into her, putting pressure on her swollen clit with my pubic bone, wanting to make her come apart again, needing to prove something to myself as much as to her.
This part, I can do. I can use my body to make her feel good. The physical requirements of life are easy. I’m a hard worker, always diligent about what’s expected of me. I try to be the best because of what I did. I won’t ever be a disappointment at this.
The rest…
I hold her tighter, pushing deeper and harder, gripping a hand beneath her ass to tip her hips just right.
“Ohhhh…”
Her neck arches again, her eyes straining wide and focused on the ceiling. She shifts beneath me, losing control as she seeks the extra she needs to tumble into the beautiful oblivion of release. When she does, I keep moving through every convulsion, but I watch it all; the flutter of her eyelids, the stretch of her lips, the tight sinew in her neck, the sweet flush of her cheeks.
My own release barrels through me in response, and I bury myself so deep between her thighs that I know it might hurt, but I can’t stop myself. I’ve lost all control.
We’re sweat-slicked and spent, two strangers who know more about each other’s bodies than we do about each other’s minds or hearts. Everything is backward, my whole world tipping off its axis.
I’ve done my part. I’ve claimed the bride. What comes next isn’t my responsibility. I’m complicit, but I’m not the one to blame.
I roll from Taylor, conscious that I’m probably hurting her with my weight. On my back, I focus on the ceiling. Taylor lies next to me, still and quiet as a mouse.
“That’s it,” I say. “We’re husband and wife.”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Lawson.”
I turn to look at her profile, but she doesn’t follow. My heartbeat is an erratic mess from the overexertion of sex and the anticipation of what I have to tell her next.
“Only one of us could marry you,” I say. “For legal reasons.”
She turns now, her eyes searching mine.
“But you belong to all of us, Taylor. Do you understand?”
I turn away before I see her reaction. She’s the kind of person who can keep nothing hidden. She needs to find her own mask to wear like I have. It’s the only way to keep safe from the world.
I touch her hand, which rests between us. “Get dressed,” I say. “There’s still a lot to be done.”
Dressing without looking at her is hard, but it’s for the best. When I leave the room, she’s still in the same place, her eyes focused on the corner of the room, her mind somewhere I’ll never know.
5
TAYLOR
FROM THE FRYING PAN, INTO THE FIRE
Clint shuts the door with a click, and I’m instantly swamped by uncertainty and loneliness. Scooping down to retrieve my underwear from the floor, it takes a while for me to come to my senses. The pulsing between my legs isn’t the only trace of the intense pleasure left in his wake. My nipples tingle with a lingering sensation still rippling its unfamiliar presence. Clint’s parting words hang heavily in the air, and not for the first time this weekend, I can’t make sense of what someone has told me.
Does he mean that I’ll have to have sex with all three of them?