Happenstance(22)

“Firm and wet.” His breath is hot against my ear. “Fucking perfect.”

That description—which, I’ll admit, has a nice ring to it—visibly brings Gabe to the edge, his weathered face contorting in pain. He steps around Banks who is groaning into my neck, his mouth moving feverishly, arousing me more with every targeted lick and nip of my sensitive skin. And suddenly Gabe’s lips are moving over mine, his big, heaving chest the final thing I see before my eyes slip closed and I’m nothing but a receptor for sensation. My mouth belongs to Gabe, my aching flesh to Tobias and for some reason, Banks is bliss and reassurance all at once. His face close to mine makes me feel secure, like I can tackle this extreme event that is happening—and his hands. They are inside my shirt now, strumming my nipples through my basic cotton bra and I’m carried away, I’m boneless and cared for and exultant.

There is a full minute of the worship they spoke about before it all spins out of control.

Tobias goes down on his knees in front of me, leans down and sinks his teeth into the inside of my knee, a sound of pure hunger kindling in his throat. Banks drags a hand down the small of my back, lower, where he kneads one side of my bottom, groaning roughly, before beginning to gather the back of my skirt in his hand.

“Do you want him to use his tongue on it, Elise?” Banks exhales shakily, his lower body crowding toward me slightly, letting me feel his substantial erection against my hip. “Your call. Whatever you want to do, I’ve got you.” He whispers the next part into my hair. “You can decide on me. I’ll take you home right now. Just us. Wet you down again and make you fucking scream.”

Wait. Is he asking me to ditch the other two?

I’m still examining those urgent words when Gabe drops into a kneeling position beside Tobias, surging forward to press his panting open mouth to my belly, his huge hands beginning to participate in the act of drawing up my skirt, too. “I want her first,” Gabe rasps.

“Life is full of disappointment, mate. She’s mine.” This from Tobias, who has finally shoved my skirt high enough to reveal my white cotton underwear, of which the crotch is embarrassingly soaked—and they both stare with open appreciation for several beats, before converging on me at once. Gabe’s mouth arrows toward the cotton triangle, but Tobias wraps a forearm around my hips, ripping me to the right at the last second, his mouth fastening to my drenched mound of cotton and suctioning me through my panties.

I’m trapped between protest and…utter lust. How is he…how. How is he inflicting so much pleasure on me with a barrier between us? He has stiffened his bottom lip and he’s rubbing side to side over the top of my clit and I’m already panting. My left leg is lifting to wrap around his head, because if he stops, the bliss comes to an end and it can’t end. It can’t.

There is a scuffle below and suddenly it’s Gabe’s mouth providing the friction, the unabashed, urgent licking through my wet underwear—and it’s so good, different than Tobias’s mouth, but somehow exactly what I need, too—and it comes to a stop when Tobias elbows his way back in, jerking me toward him with that arm wrapped around my hips. A tug of war is ensuing between Tobias and Gabe, which is bad enough, but then Banks enters the mix, enfolding me in his arms and dragging me away from the scene. At first I think it’s to disengage me from the battle happening between Gabe and Tobias, but when our laps press together, he curses under his breath and backs me toward the kitchen counter. Pins me.

“Do me a favor and wrap those legs around me nice and tight, angel,” he urges, reaching down for my knees as if to jerk them up—and I’m shocked to find that I want to. My core tightens expectantly, excited by the imagery of his demand. He wants to take me here, against the counter, roughly if his harsh breathing is any indication. But over Banks’s shoulder, I see the other two approaching with twin expressions of possessiveness and I know we’ve taken a wrong turn. They’re literally fighting over who gets me first. Consider my mind blown.

“Stop,” I mutter, still trapped in the need they’ve woven around me.

They stop.

On a dime.

They’re not happy about it, but apart from their chests heaving up and down, their movements cease immediately—and I’ve never felt more powerful. Seen. Heard. Sure, my skirt is around my waist and I’m wedged in between a seriously aroused man while two more seethe behind him, visibly restraining themselves from stealing me, but I’m in control of this situation. And control feels incredible. I have to triple lock my apartment door to keep danger out and can’t go places alone at night, so the way these men respect my wishes is…well, it’s how it should be, but it’s also fucking glorious.

They’ve just fed me something I’ve never eaten before.

It’s also a very good thing they know how to listen to the voice of reason, because these three have lost their damn minds.

“No. I’m not the rope in a tug of war.” I push Banks back a step and work my skirt back into place, my diaphragm expanding and contracting with staccato breaths. “What happened to all that ‘sharing you felt right, because it benefitted you’ talk? Were you lying?”

“No.” Banks answers first, dragging an unsteady hand down his face. “No, I don’t know what came over me. I just couldn’t stand not being the one to—”