Misadventures of a Curvy Girl (Misadventures #18)(17)
My cock aches at it, with how sexy she is like this, with how perfect her cunt is against my hand. With how much I’ve missed being a three, and I mean really being a three—not picking up a woman for a night and then waking up with Caleb in a hotel room she’s already abandoned before dawn.
I need to fuck. And soon.
Ireland slowly comes down from her climax, her body relaxing and her hands unfisting from our shirts. Her face stays against my chest, and I can feel the instant she goes from happily sated to awkwardly embarrassed.
I pull my hand from her jeans and tilt her head up to me. Her eyes are a darker blue after orgasm—something closer to an ocean than a sky—and I can see uncountable thoughts and questions swimming in there.
“Open your mouth,” I say in a low voice, and she opens for me. I slide my wet fingers into her mouth, and she closes around them, sucking without me having to tell her to.
Oh yes, she and I are going to get along very well.
“Do you taste yourself?” I ask softly. “Do you taste how much you needed someone to fuck you?”
Her eyes dart over to Caleb, and whatever she seems to see there reassures her.
“Answer me with a nod,” I say. “And no lies, remember? Can you taste how badly you needed to be fucked?”
Eyes huge on mine, my fingers in her mouth, she nods, and I remove them, satisfied. “That’s right,” I say. “And you still need to be fucked, don’t you? You need to be between Caleb and me so badly. You need to feel two big cocks hard and leaking for you and you alone.”
She looks like her breath is caught in her throat, like all those thoughts swimming in her eyes are just trapped, trapped, trapped, waiting to break free, so I coax her by leaning down and brushing my lips against hers for the very first time. She tastes like mint and lipstick, and her mouth is as soft as her cunt. I lick inside and then pull back to breathe against her lips.
“Be brave, Ireland. Say yes.”
“Say yes?” she murmurs.
“Say yes to taking what you want. To taking us.”
A little smile crooks her mouth. “You wouldn’t be taking me?”
I nip at her jaw and then at that irresistible little smile. “Dirty girl. You know you’ll be ours once you say it. So say it. Say yes.”
Chapter Seven
Ireland
It feels like Ben is asking me about something bigger than a roll in the hay.
I blink up at him and then over to Caleb, my heart racing along with my mind, trying to sift through Ben’s words.
Be brave, Ireland.
You know you’ll be ours.
Ours. He must mean that within the context of tonight. That if I go to bed with them, they’ll be at my sexual service—not…not what my heart keeps tripping over itself imagining.
That there’s more. That there could be so much more.
That these men not only want to fuck me but love me.
You’re being silly, I scold myself. And you’re overly romanticizing sex. They must do this all the time, and you’re just the latest one.
It makes sense though now, what Mrs. Parry said. Complicated. Feeling the two of them touching me and kissing me, feeling their awareness of each other—it was completely different than kissing Caleb against the barn or watching Ben goad Caleb into coming all over his fist. Once the three of us touched, something new sizzled into existence. Something bright and searing. Something that took more than two people.
Yes, that’s complicated. Different.
But however electric this thing between us is, however magical, I’m also realistic about what it actually means. I barely even know Caleb and Ben, so how could it mean anything more than just fucking? Besides, I’m very used to the idea that girls who look like me don’t get swept into torrid love affairs with hunky country boys. That stuff happens to pretty girls. Skinny girls.
No, this will be sex, plain and simple, no matter what intense words Ben lobs my way.
I still want it.
Why not? Being invited to a threesome with the two handsomest men I’ve ever laid eyes on? Hell yes, I want that.
When I was a girl, I wanted to climb mountains and sail boats and go places no one else had ever been. I wanted adventures! I wanted fun! And right now, adventure and fun personified are staring me in the face, albeit in a way I never could have imagined as a girl.
Be brave, Ireland.
“Yes,” I blurt out, taking Ben’s advice and being brave. Being the woman that girl wanted to grow up to be before people started telling her she wasn’t the right size for adventures and didn’t have the right kind of body for fun. Being who I was before I started being the one to tell myself no—no, I can’t do that; no, people will think you’re desperate or trying too hard or too eager to please.
I’ve spent too long caging myself in, and it feels good to beam up at the men hulking over me with hungry eyes and big hands and emphatically repeat, “Yes.”
It’s easy to keep feeling brave as we dart across the grass, the rain coming down in cool silver streaks around us, the wind gusting past in huge buffets that nearly knock us off our feet.
Caleb grabs my hand, his fingers so warm and strong around my own, and then he’s pulling me impatiently to the back door as Ben follows behind us. When I look back at Ben through the rain, the wind whips his T-shirt around the tight muscles of his stomach and chest, lifting the hem high enough to reveal glimpses of taut, olive-colored abs and a line of dark hair that disappears into his jeans.