Chapter 91

I moan around him as I explode, my pussy clenching around Jeremiah's cock. I feel his moan vibrate against my chest as he arches to thrust deeper into me. Then he straightens and thrusts into me at a blistering pace, the sound of our bodies meeting filling the room, and my mouth sucks on the tip of Ezekiel's cock as my lips wrap around it. His cock pulls away from my mouth, and I look down at Jeremiah. I can see he's barely maintaining control, barely holding back. But I don't want him to. I want him to feel the pleasure he's giving me right now. So I give him what I think he needs to join me in orgasm.

“Cum in my pussy, Jeremiah,” I gasp. “Show me how much you want me.”

He moans, long and deep, thrusting into me once, twice, three times, and then his head tilts forward, hair falling around his face as he exhales a harsh breath and comes. I look up at movement and see Ezekiel's hand pumping his cock right over my face. And then he moans, and warmth drips onto my neck. I realize it's his come, spreading to my collarbone, pooling between my neck and the sheets beneath me.

No one has ever done this to me before, and if someone had asked me, I would have told them to kiss my ass and I would have kicked them out. But my mind doesn't rebel for a second against their cum in my body. I... like it. I want more. I want Jeremiah's cum all over me, too. I want them to fuck me while I'm covered in it. To use it to slide around in a place they haven't penetrated yet.

"What's making you look at yourself like that now?" Jeremiah asks, trying to catch his breath.

"I wonder why neither of them has fucked my ass yet," I admit.

Jeremiah's eyes widen as he smiles. But it's Ezequiel who answers, making me look up at him, still holding his cock. There's cum at the tip, and I lick my lips, wanting to taste it.

—Believe me, we will. We were trying to get you used to it little by little. Well, even more so, Jeremiah. I would have done it the first night.

I look at Jeremiah with an arched eyebrow. “Were you worried about scaring me?”

"Yes," he says, surprising me. "I wanted to make sure you'd come back."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. There goes my fucking heart again, wishing the words meant more than they probably do. It refers to sex, to what we just did. Nothing more.

"There you go again." Ezequiel chuckles. "I thought we'd already turned that thing off tonight."

I squint at him, and he smiles. "Do you know how sexy you look looking at me with all my cum all over your neck?"

I feel the heat of a blush spread across my chest and neck. But then Jeremiah pulls out of me, and all I can think about is losing him. I want one of them inside me again, even if my vagina and tired body say otherwise.

"I'll be right back," says Ezequiel.

I only move to slide into bed, so my head's no longer hanging. Why would I move when I have such a sexy sight in front of me? Jeremiah's ass as he goes to throw the condom into a small trash can. Ezekiel comes out of a bathroom I now realize he's in there with a rag in his hand. It's warm when he places it on my neck, cleaning himself up. Then, he helps me sit up, going behind me to clean up the rest, and my mind races.

What happens now? Do we act like we did at the hotel and everyone leaves? Do I get dressed and go home, hoping this will happen again?

As Ezekiel heads back to the bathroom, I look around the room for the first time. There are no personal details, just the bed, a TV hanging on the wall with a dresser next to it, and a full-length mirror that, sadly, we don't use. For some reason, and taking me by surprise, jealousy invades me, and my mouth falls open before I can even allow it to.

"Whose room is this?" I ask, and even I can hear the voice.

Jeremiah must hear it too, because he frowns as he answers, "It's a guest room."

"Is this something that happens often around here?" I insist, cursing myself internally for continuing.

"We just moved here a month ago, Laury," Ezequiel says, laughing.

I squint at him. "You know what I mean. Is this the room you take all the women you sleep with to?"

Ezequiel smiles. “Would you mind if we did?”

—You two might like to share, but I don't.

What the hell! I'm panicking, not because of what anyone thinks of me, but because of myself. When have I ever been jealous or possessive? Never, because that would mean a man could be possessive of me, feel he has some right to me, and I've never allowed that. So why the hell am I sitting here saying words I'd never even imagined in my life? Why the hell would I care if they've brought other women here? I have to go. I've been here too long, if my thoughts are any guide.

"From what you just said, should I assume this will happen again?" Jeremiah asks.

I should rush to say no, especially with all the confusing emotions running through me right now, but instead I hear my own voice saying, “Yes.”

Jeremiah smiles. “Good. And you’re the first woman we’ve brought here, and the first to lie in that bed.”

Why does it make me feel so good? And then make me so anxious?

"Are you staying?" Jeremiah asks.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I reply as my mind finally decides to take control.

\-Why is that?-

I feel like we need to have boundaries if we're going to keep this going. Sex rarely stays just sex if it happens frequently. Sleeping over would only complicate things, and you're just tempting your feelings to get involved.

Ezekiel just hums, and I take that as his consent, but Jeremiah keeps insisting.

—Would it be so bad if feelings got involved?—

I open my mouth, and at any other time, my answer would have been a resounding, immediate yes, but right now, not a sound comes out of my mouth. It shocks me. It terrifies me. Why can't I say it? Why don't I want to say it?

"Yes," Ezequiel says.

That sends shivers down my spine. His one word leaves no room for interpretation. It's the exact answer I should have given, and yet hearing it from him stirs something inside me I refuse to acknowledge, but I crumble in disappointment.

"It would be bad," he continues.

Jeremiah glared at him, a clear rebuke in his eyes, but Ezekiel simply stared back. At least it gives me time to regain my composure without their eyes on me.

"I should go," I said, starting to get out of bed. I took the sheet with me and covered myself with it.

"Please stay," Jeremiah says quietly. "We're leaving. You'll have the room to yourself again, like at the resort. Stay."

But I glance at Ezequiel out of the corner of my eye because, while it's clear Jeremiah wants me to stay, it's not so clear whether Ezequiel does. Then he walks toward me, his face losing the sternness it had acquired while he and Jeremiah talked silently. He reaches out and pulls down the sheet.

"Don't hide from us," he says. "I'm sorry. Just now, it was just me, and it had nothing to do with you. Please stay."

What do you mean? What was that look you exchanged just now? And while I should be glad you agree that feelings have no place in what we do, I feel like demanding you tell me why.

"We'll make you breakfast," Jeremiah offers.

"I'll even buy you some donuts," Ezequiel adds.

I stare at them. “That’s not fair play.”

Jeremiah leans in to kiss me. “Good night.”

Ezequiel kisses me too, his kiss is longer, maybe with an apology in it, although I don't really know what he's apologizing for.

—Good night—, he murmurs.

\-Good night.-

He closes the door behind him, and I flop back onto the bed, berating myself for staying, searching for excuses to still be here, wondering what the hell is going on. I've never been so confused, and yet seemingly so content in my confusion. Because this much I know for sure: I want to be here. I just have no idea why. Why them? Why now? Why is my heart suddenly changing all the rules when we promised to always keep them so long ago? We made a promise, and now my heart seems to stray from it every chance it gets. I don't like it... but I like them. Too much.

I climb into bed, lean back against the pillow, and hope closing my eyes will calm me. No. I'm awake for so long that I give up on sleeping and get up to find my phone in my purse in the kitchen. I pick up my clothes from the floor as I walk down the hallway, clearly noticing that my panties aren't among them. As I reach the fifth step from the bottom, I hear Jeremiah's harsh words and stop in my tracks.

—What the fuck, Zek? Why did you say that up there?

"You know exactly why, damn it," Ezekiel growls. "I don't know why you asked about feelings like they're an option."

His words hurt far more than they should.

—That was a completely different situation. You're going to let that...—

"What?" Ezekiel interrupts. "Teach me a fucking lesson? Yeah, I will, and so should you. Just let it go, Jer."

—You don't have to hurt Laury to avoid being hurt. That's all I'm saying.—

But her voice is much softer, as if what Ezequiel said has struck a chord. Whatever skeleton they're talking about, it's deep and painful. And I don't have to listen to them talk about it. I wouldn't want them to hear me talk about how my mother is the reason my heart is barricaded like a damn fortress. So, quietly, I go back upstairs and enter the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I lie back down, and this time my heart feels as heavy as my mind.