CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 19
I walk into my room and drop my bag on the table. Tiredness washes over me just looking at the bedroom and my bed. A bed so big it fits me, Ezequiel, and Jeremías. I shake my head. They aren't even responding to my texts, let alone filling my bed tonight. I scold myself for the umpteenth time for even caring that they haven't texted me. That's precisely why I never wanted to feel anything more than desire for them. This is all a waste of time. I wonder if they're okay, I want to call them just to hear their voices because I miss them, I long for them to be here.

To distract myself, I focus on my hunger and sit on the couch to look at the menu. I call room service for a chicken salad, and I save the burger Heather mentioned for my last night here. Something to look forward to, because clearly, there won't be any conversations or messages from Ezekiel or Jeremiah. Still, I check my phone again and am overcome with irritation when I see that my message, once again, is the last one on the screen.

I feel like a fool, checking my phone every few minutes while waiting for dinner, clearly thinking about them far more than me. I'm far from them, so maybe it's the perfect time to remind myself why I've come this far in life without the discomfort of love, or even a deep affection for another person. For this reason, right here. This sadness I feel right now, the longing, this anger, and the hope. I hate it all.

My food arrives, and at least I can forget about everything while I watch a show while eating my salad. Just as I'm done, my phone vibrates on the table, and I curse myself for how quickly I grabbed it and unlocked the screen. Even more so for the disappointment that washes over me when I see it's a text from Heather and not from who I really wanted it to be.

Heather: I ordered the burger for you. I'm leaving. Wish me luck.

Me: I just finished eating a salad, so it's entirely your fault I have to stuff myself tonight. Good luck. Go for it.

As for me, I will not give Jeremiah and Ezekiel anything more of me.

Is it fair to ask you to try? Jeremiah's words run through my mind.

I've never had to fight with myself over whether or not I care, and I find having the same internal battle over and over feels endless and exhausting. In moments like these, when I'm wondering if they even care, if I'll just end up hurt, I want to let my mind win and shut down every emotion I feel for them, but then in other moments, like in the shower with Jeremiah or when Ezekiel told me he'd miss me, my heart starts to win. They whisper to me that it's okay to give in to them, to... What? Deep love? Love? Something in between? I don't know, and that scares me as much as everything else.

There's a knock at the door, and I approach without looking before opening it, assuming it's the burger Heather ordered. But when I open it, there's no one in the hallway. Suddenly, an arm reaches out, grasping the handles of a large white paper bag. I don't care about the bag because I know that hand.

—So, are you going to take the bag?— asks Ezequiel.

I chuckle and snatch it from him, and only then does it appear. Suddenly, the unanswered messages don't matter. Suddenly, all my thoughts about giving up vanish because he's standing in front of me, white T-shirt, dark blue jeans, one hand in his pocket, those perfect lips curved into a smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement and turn to find Jeremiah on the other side of the door, his smile as sexy as his brother's. Black T-shirt, dark gray sweatpants, his hands holding a carton of drinks in it. Drinks for all of us. Just like I can tell by the weight of this bag that it has food in it for more than just me. Will they stay here? For how long? But most importantly, they're here now. They're here.

"What are you doing here?" I ask quietly, still in disbelief.

"Do you normally accept bags from strangers?" Jeremiah jokes.

—I'd recognize your two hands anywhere.—

"Are you sure about that?" Ezequiel asks, making me look at him, raising my eyebrow.

I used to find that damn raised eyebrow so annoying, but seeing it now, when I've missed him and Jeremiah so much all day, is enough to almost bring me to my knees... in more ways than one.

"I am," I affirm.

"So if we came into your room and blindfolded you, you'd know who was doing what?" he asked.

I swallow, and just the thought of what he's saying fills me with warmth. It's funny how tired I felt before, because now I'm fully alert, my body full of life and longing.

"Well, would you?" Jeremiah insists, making me realize I haven't responded.

I don't know if I could tell you everything about them, but this is a game I desperately want to play.

—I would.—

—So you want to invite us in? — Jeremiah smiles.

I take a step back and they both come in. Jeremiah places the drinks on the table next to my bag while Ezequiel takes my bag.

—Don't you want to eat your food first?—

"I don't give a shit about that food when I could be eating you," Ezequiel says.

Jeremiah takes my hand and leads me to my room. I look over my shoulder and see Ezequiel looking around the living room. Then he heads into my bedroom to do the same.

—What are you looking for?— I laugh.

—Something to cover those pretty eyes.—

"I think this is more of a naked game," Jeremiah says as we get to bed.

I look at him and see his tongue sticking out to lick his lips.

"Are you two going to be naked too?" I ask.

—You won't know because you won't be able to see.—

\-It's not fair.-

"We'll see how fair you think it all is when you complain," Ezequiel adds.

Then, he lifts the shirt off the dresser for me to wear to sleep. I watch him roll it up, never imagining such a simple gesture could be so alluring. He steps closer to me as Jeremiah's hands circle around me, unzipping my dress. Just as Ezekiel moves behind me, pulling the shirt over my eyes, Jeremiah starts to pull my dress down. Ezekiel ties the shirt at the back of my neck as Jeremiah takes off my bra, then pulls my panties down until I can step out of them. I'm standing in front of them, completely naked, anticipation like a live wire inside me, waiting for a spark to ignite me.

"The game starts now," I hear Jeremiah say, from much further away than a few moments ago.

"Okay," I whisper, then smile. "Wait, what do I get if I win?"

“Pleasure,” Ezequiel replies.

—What if I lose?—

“You’ll have to try, and fail, to sleep between us,” Jeremiah explains, not missing a beat, “our hard cocks pressing against you, knowing we want you, but you lost, so no one feels good tonight.”

"How the hell is that fair?" I exclaimed.

"It isn't," Jeremiah says, laughing. "Let's just say it's... motivation."

As if the tension vibrating between my thighs weren't enough motivation to make sure I do it right. I can't fall asleep between them like this. I wait, hearing nothing, seeing nothing but the absolute darkness behind my T-shirt. My body, however, is hyperaware, searching for any touch—from fingers, from lips, anything that will begin to soothe the ache growing inside me.

A soft gasp escapes me when I finally get it, and I cup my face in my hands. I smile, knowing instantly who it is. The calluses where their fingers meet my palm give it away.

—Ezequiel—, I say.

—Good girl.—

Then his lips settle on mine, and even if I hadn't recognized his hands, his kiss would have given him away. He's always more commanding, taking me without question, his tongue sliding into my mouth with such demand that I don't even think before opening myself for him. His tongue circles mine, his hands run down my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. He moves closer, and I know he's naked too, because of his penis pressing against my belly. I moan at the feel of it, but just as I reach down to wrap my fingers around it, he pulls away.

I feel dizzy for a moment, standing in the darkness, my hands still extended toward Ezekiel. Then, a hand cups my breast a second before his lips circle my nipple. The brush of his tongue tells me whose it is. The gentleness with which he does it, the delicate caress of his tongue, and the way his fingers massage my breast rather than grasp it tell me, without a doubt, who it is.

“Jeremiah,” I say, but it turns into a moan when his mouth releases my nipple so his tongue can rest on it and lick it.

—Good again, —Jeremiah replies.

His lips travel over my collarbone, my neck, and my jaw until they reach my lips. I open to him, ready to feel his tongue against mine. And he gives it to me, sliding it into my mouth. His tongue circles mine, slow and tantalizing, so seductive. He gives in where his brother takes. But he pulls back too, leaving me alone. Leaving me waiting once more. This game is already too torturous.

A hand grazes my legs, moving toward my inner thigh, to where I desperately long for one of his fingers to be. Yet again, I know those fingers as well as I knew his hand. I don't say a word until that finger touches my clit, making my stomach clench with lust and need. He rubs it like only he does, hard and slow, as if he wants to prolong the pleasure, enjoying watching my body react to every moment his finger is on me.

"Ezequiel," I whisper shakily.

His dark, sensual chuckle courses through my body, making me shudder. I don't need to see him to know he's noticed. His moan tells me as much, as he rubs another circle on my clit. A whimper escapes my lips as he rubs it again. Suddenly, my legs feel too weak to stand, but then Ezekiel's lips disappear. The groan of frustration has barely left me when I feel a presence behind me.

Lips touch the small of my back. A shaky breath leaves me as they travel to my right cheek, then my left. These lips search rather than demand as they trace my lower back again. Then they lick my spine, and a violent shiver runs through me.

—Jeremiah.— I start to sigh, but it turns into a moan when Ezequiel's hands grab my butt so hard I fall to my tiptoes.

“Four out of four so far,” Jeremiah whispers in my ear, now facing me.

It's Jeremiah's hands on my waist, pulling me back so I'm sitting on the bed, but Ezekiel's hands are the ones spreading my thighs. Then they both leave me, my moan of longing filling the silence. Shoulders push my thighs further apart, but I still can't tell whose. It becomes clearer, though, who it must be when I feel a body behind me moments before hands cover my breasts. Very calloused hands. Then Jeremiah is between my thighs. And Ezekiel comes up behind me to watch his brother and me. I wait to say something to them. I wait because I don't want the way I feel Jeremiah's body leaning forward, closer to my pussy, to stop. I get my first lick, and if I wasn't sure before, I am now. The slow lick, the way his tongue flicks over my clit at the end.

"Jeremiah between my thighs," I tell them in a shaky voice. "Ezekiel behind me."

"I think we'll reward you for what you've done well so far," Ezequiel says.

He licks the shell of my ear while his brother licks circles around my clit. Ezekiel's hands cup my breasts, his thumbs rubbing my nipples until my head falls back onto his shoulder. I arch my hips as Jeremiah strokes me with the tip of his tongue, and Ezekiel's lips leave a trail from behind my ear to my neck. His teeth graze where my pulse rumbles, and then he bites me just as Jeremiah sucks my clit into his mouth.

—God—, I gasp.

“Ezequiel or Jeremiah,” Ezequiel growls against my skin. “That’s what you scream when we’re getting you ready to get fucked. Let me hear you say it.”

“Ezequiel,” I sigh, my body shaking with the force with which Jeremiah sucks me. “Jeremiah,” I moan at the sight of Ezequiel arching against me, rubbing his cock against my back while his hands press down on my breasts.

The darkness makes everything so much more intense. I can only feel. Jeremiah's mouth releases my clit so his tongue can lick my lips. Ezekiel releases one breast to take one of my hands. He brings it behind me, between us, to his penis. I rush to wrap my hand around it. It quickly tenses with the tension coiling around me from Jeremiah's tongue teasing my entrance.

"Please," I whisper.

"Tell my brother what you want him to do," Ezequiel says. "Tell him what you want him to do to you while you stroke my cock."

—Slide your tongue inside me, Jeremiah. Slowly.—

Jeremiah moans against me just before he does as I said, slowly sliding his tongue inside me. I exhale shakily as my thighs grip the sides of his head. My hand moves up and down on Ezekiel. Then, Ezekiel pulls on my hair, making my neck crane painfully. I forget for a moment that I'm blind and look up, searching for Ezekiel's eyes, but I find only darkness. I want to see him so badly, to see that wild lust in his eyes and his teeth biting his lip the way he does when desire consumes him. Desire for me. Then, Jeremiah hooks his tongue inside me, and my eyes close again, anyway.