Chapter 93

“Seriously, Laury, this love thing isn’t as bad as you think,” Sarah says. “It’s not like Ka or I were asking for it, but here we are. In love and happy. I know your mom hasn’t set the best example for you, but there’s another side to it.”

I know, I really do. But the problem is, you only find out which side you're on after you've fallen in love. And by then, it's too late. Your heart can either heal or break completely. And I'm not going to take that chance. I've seen, too many times to count, what taking that chance could cost you.

—But if you had feelings for them—, Kamila begins softly, as if she knows she’s broaching a topic she’d rather we’d ended minutes ago, —would you allow yourself to feel that?—

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’ve never had this dilemma before. I’ve never had to talk myself out of feeling anything for someone. It was easy not to, you know? I didn’t need to constantly remind myself not to let my heart get in the way.”

"But you do it now?" Sarah asks.

My eyes widen as I realize what I just admitted. The feelings I just expressed to them, and to myself. I feel dizzy for a moment and have to grab the edge of the table to keep from falling.

“Yes,” I say hoarsely. “I hate it. I hate feeling so… unsure of everything. Questioning what I should and shouldn’t allow myself to feel. It’s new, and it’s driving me crazy. I think about them too much. I’m too curious, and I want to know too much. I’m…”

"You're scared," Kamila interrupts me.

—That's not exactly the word I was going to use.—

—But the word that sums it all up.— She tilts her head at me. When I remain silent, she continues, —You know how it was with Jackson and me. I ran from him—from my own feelings, actually. And then he showed me how stupid I was being, and here we are.—

“I wasn’t running away,” Sarah begins. “But I definitely wasn’t ready for love when I met Law.”

"Maybe that's the trick!" Kamila exclaims. "Love comes when you don't look for it."

"Don't say that," I complain. "Because I'm not looking for it, or trying to remember that love exists."

"I think love might be looking for you." Sarah wiggles her eyebrows.

—You know, I should have let that lady keep looking at you.

He laughs. "You'd never do that. But seriously, when you walk away, think about how it was for us. Not how it always was for you with your mom."

—To be honest, I really don't know if I can do it—.

“I know,” Sarah says softly.

“When will you see them again?” Kamila asks.

—I have no idea. They're sending me some of the photos their mom takes of them afterward.

—You should send them some pictures too—, Kamila smiles.

—I think the pregnancy is making you extremely horny.—

—It is. Jackson loves it.—

I get my first text around five: a photo of Jeremías looking across what looks like a beautiful lake. Then, one of Ezequiel putting his hand in the water. I laugh at each photo, knowing that between each one they're joking with their mom and laughing at the poses she asks of them. I get ten more photos, and Jeremías texts me while Ezequiel drives them home. And then Ezequiel texts me while Jeremías makes them dinner. And then, a week later, we've texted almost all day, every day, and before I know it, I'm waiting for his texts every morning and fall asleep with my phone in my hand.

It's dangerous. It's nonsense. It's complete nonsense, and yet, I can't help it.

We talk about everything and nothing. They ask me how my day was, what I had for dinner, what I did for the charity. I ask how things are going at the gym, how their mom is, and I can hardly resist the temptation to ask when I'll see them again. Today, however, I have a message written, my thumb hovering over the send button.

I miss you both.

It seems like an understatement to say how much I long to see them again, but it's still too revealing. I press the button and throw my phone away like it has lice. About twenty minutes later, I still haven't received a reply. I'm thinking about inventing an app that will retrieve messages. I'm about to figure out a way to lie and say that message wasn't for them when the doorbell rings.

Frowning, I head to the door and peer through the peephole. Any hope of pretending I'm not home fades with the sharp gasp that leaves me. My eyes scan my apartment, taking in the dirty blanket on the couch, my lonely dinner plate on the coffee table, and I'm wearing only a T-shirt and underwear.

"Pig, pig," Ezequiel's deep voice jokes. "Let us in!"

God, the way this man's voice always manages to send heat straight to my pussy.

I throw open the door. “Did you really just say that?”

He smiles, sexy and mischievous. "You opened the door, didn't you?"

"Maybe she wants the wolf to eat her," Jeremiah suggests.

I raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Is that why you came here? To eat me?”

Ezequiel shakes his head and starts walking past me.

—I didn't even invite you in.—

He pauses and brings his face so close to mine that our noses are almost touching.

"We didn't come to eat you." His gaze rests on my tongue, licking my lips. "We came to devour you."

A shiver runs through me as he keeps walking and Jeremiah walks in. I close the door and the moment I turn around, Jeremiah's mouth crashes down on mine. The kiss is hungry, like he's missed me as much as I've missed him. My back hits the wall just as Jeremiah's hands run up my thighs, lifting the bottom of my shirt with it. He positions himself between my thighs, his hard cock pressing right against my clit. I moan into his mouth as his hand comes up and covers my breast. His hips arch forward, rubbing his cock against me and my own hands move now, going down to the waistband of his sweatpants, sliding beneath them to find there are no boxer briefs. I moan as I tear my mouth from his.

"Did you take them off when you knew you were coming here?" I ask breathlessly.

His lips are on my neck, so he just nods. As I circle his cock with my hand, I lazily glance up to find Ezekiel leaning against the wall at the entrance to my hallway, watching us as he pulls his pants down and off. He's not wearing boxers either. They came ready to fuck, and, my God, so was I.

“Ezequiel, please,” I beg him.

He gives me a cocky grin before pulling his shirt over his head, and I start stroking Jeremiah's cock up and down with my hand. He hisses as he pulls away, brushing his lips against my cheek.

"Whose dick do you want to suck first?" Ezequiel asks as he walks toward us.

"How can you make me choose?" I chuckle, but my voice comes out breathy and needy.

I feel Jeremiah's lips curve against my cheek as Ezequiel approaches. Ezequiel takes my hand, and my hold on Jeremiah fades as Ezequiel begins to lead us toward my room. It's dark in there, but I can see them both pretty well: Ezequiel in front of me, Jeremiah behind me, undressing.

—Get on your knees, but make sure you spread your thighs—, Ezequiel tells me.

A terrible shudder runs through me just thinking about what they'll do to me. I wonder whose mouth will be on me and whose mouth will be on mine. When I look over my shoulder, Jeremiah is coming toward us, naked now, his cock moving in time with his steps, making my pussy clench with desire. I turn to climb onto the bed, but Ezekiel stops me. Shaking his head, he points at the floor. Arching my eyebrows, I drop to my knees, spreading my legs.

However, neither of them moves; they both remain side by side, looking at me. Their eyes are fixed on my breasts, my lips, between my thighs. There isn't a moment of shyness, because the wild lust in their gaze doesn't allow it. Then, they look at each other, converse in silence before they begin to move.

I throw my head back as Ezekiel moves closer. His cock is there, ready for me, and I open my mouth eagerly, but he doesn't give me what I want. He drops to his knees as well, cupping my jaw with his hand as his mouth moves over mine. His tongue slides between my lips, spanking me. I moan, not just from his wild kiss, but from the feel of his cock pressing against my stomach, and Jeremiah behind me, his lips running down my spine to the small of my back. I gasp into Ezekiel's mouth as Jeremiah's teeth bite into my ass.

Ezekiel's finger goes to my pussy, sliding easily through the wetness there, then Jeremiah kisses down my spine, over my shoulder as his cock moves between my ass cheeks. The tip of his cock teasing my entrance, Ezekiel's fingers rubbing quick, hard circles on my clit, both making a long moan leave me. My body doesn't know which way to move. Forward into Ezekiel's touch or back to rub against Jeremiah's cock, waiting for him to sink into me. But then they both move out of me. Ezekiel breaks our kiss with a grunt that tells me he still wasn't really ready for his tongue to leave mine, and I narrow my eyes at him.

"I hate the way you both make fun of me," I hiss.

Jeremiah lets out a dark laugh that matches perfectly with the smile that forms on Ezequiel's lips.

"Is it a joke when you always get what you want in the end?" he asks.

\-Yes, because I haven't gotten it yet.

Ezequiel looks over my shoulder at his brother. “I think he says he wants to come.”

—But the question is: should we leave her?— Jeremiah replies.

I turn my head to look at him. “No, the real question is, can you make me come?”

Jeremiah throws his head back, laughing. “We all know the answer to that question.”