Her Billionaires_ Boxed Set(85)

Last night she’d left their apartment after watching a stupid comedy she’d picked simply because she’d already seen it the previous week, with Josie. Picking something she’d seen made sense, giving her the mental space to go through an hour and a half squished between Mike and Dylan, trying to figure out how to just be as, well—three.

Those ninety minutes, followed by gorging themselves on an amazing tiramisu Dylan had hand crafted, were like living in parallel. Half of her just enjoyed every minute, the domestic normalcy easier to sink into than she’d imagined.

The other half was the problem: judging. Questioning. Analyzing. Poking.

Doubting.

If she could just quell that half of her then this could work. Really work.

Where was her off switch? Her user’s manual? All she needed was the good half. The half that believed, that turned toward healing and tenderness and love in whatever form it took.

Meanwhile, both halves needed a shower. She had another threesome in mind right now: her, Mr. Showerhead, and Bob, her battery-operated boyfriend. That was a threesome both halves of her could get behind.

And now she didn’t have to fantasize about faceless lovers with their hands and mouths all over her. She had a very real memory to draw on.

And a very real promise of so much more. Hers for the taking, in fact, if she just reached out.

She reached out, alright. Turned on the shower, grabbed Bob, and slipped out of her jammies as the water heated up. The first spray of water hit her, tickling her shoulder with little wet pin pricks, and soon her head was under the water, her hair soaking fast as the water wended its way down her body. Ah, how different her hands felt against her own skin today. No sex last night; they’d ended the evening with warm hugs and tentative kisses, each man waiting his turn for a moment with her. It had been sweet. Mellow.

Just right.

As a smile played across her lips and she reached for the shower head, she marveled that something so simple— dinner, a movie at home, a homemade dessert, two kisses—could complete her so readily. She inhaled deeply as the spray tickled her clit, the shower head doing its magic as she balanced it in her right hand, left reaching for good old Bob. This Bob (ah, she had a drawer full of electronic boyfriends...) was purple and shiny and sleek. No need for a clit attachment when she had a shower head. And now, she no longer held Bob and the spray nozzle, but instead that was Dylan’s mouth.

Mike’s hands roamed her back, soaping her as his torso slid along her rib cage, hard muscle hot and wet, the spray bouncing off skin the color of sun-kissed honey, his face wet and eyes intense, mouth reaching down for hers as his fingers slipped between her legs and began to stroke her.

Now Dylan’s mouth was on her, kissing her hips, her ass, desire pooling and expanding deep inside, eager to clamp down on him as he thrust inside her, little sighs and groans in need of a reason to be made. Ah, those abs, wet and slick and rubbing against her breasts, lips on hers, tongue exploring as Mike’s hands did their magic on her clit, tracing lazy circles that took her breath away again. Again. And again, hitching higher as he built an orgasm from scratch, like a fine artisan plying his trade, infusing the final work with a delicacy and craftsmanship only one, lone man could spin. A lone man with eyes that cut through her flesh like a hot knife in butter, hands melting her skin to a core of need that pulsed, red and eager for more of him. Of them. Of all three as one.

Bending slightly, Mike used his muscled thighs to pick her up, water making their skin slick, the friction adding to her craving as he pulled her pussy to his erection, lifting her enough that she could wrap her legs about him as Dylan’s mouth made its way down her collarbone, over her pink rose petal nipples, down to her abdomen and around to play with her back. Completely taken by surprise, the pressure of Mike’s eager rod nudging her clit was what she expected but instead he slipped fully within her passage, her body stretching to take him in as she was weightless, arms wrapped about his neck and face pressed against his wet pecs, gasping for time and air and a split second she desired to accommodate the new—

Thrust. She arched her back, consumed by this, her eyes catching Dylan’s hands on Mike’s shoulders. Nodding, Mike slipped out of her as she moaned, “No!” Dylan’s warm mouth took hers as they turned her about, Mike’s slippery front to her back, Dylan dropping to his knees, mouth descending on her womanhood as if it were the source of oxygen and all life. His tongue flicked up boldly as Mike’s pulsing rod entered her from behind, the twin sensations making her nearly slip and fall in the water’s embrace.

Tickling her labia, Dylan used his hands to roam her ass, her legs, her knees and feet as Mike pounded her from behind, his hands on either side of her, pushing into the shower wall, she jolted up, slightly, with each thrust, the press against her cervix maddening and layered, building a climax she knew would make her gush. Her body expanded, limbs combining and morphing into one big pleasure center, the division between her body and Mike’s and Dylan’s becoming less distinct with every tongue touch, every impaling, every caress. As Dylan zeroed in on her clit with tight, quick laps and Mike’s legs grew thicker with exertion she felt an implosion beginning, her hands raking Dylan’s hair as she began to scream.