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What did she just ignite in me?
Images of our three bodies wrapped together in bed—her sucking Colt. Then I help her, our kiss meeting over the swollen tip of his cock. Me fucking her, while he’s fucking me and her….
Holy fuck, I swell so fast I get dizzy.
“Oh, Kitten, jealousy is not what I feel when I see you with Colt. He’s the only man I won’t kill if he touches you. Tell me if I’m lying.” Her eyes get wide because I let her see mine narrow with lust, my hardening cock very convincing. “I want the three of us together,” I confess. “A lot.”
Blair licks her bottom lip before snagging it between her teeth.
I know that look, her hidden desire. The last time I saw it, I had her tied down and blindfolded, about to fulfill her secret fantasy with a huge, blue alien cock sheath on my dick.
“You’d love our threesome, too?” I lick my lips. “Wouldn’t you, Kitten?”
“I’m celibate, not insane,” she answers. “Who wouldn’t want to Peter, Paul, and Mary with you two?”
“Marry? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
But why does that suddenly sound like my wildest dream come true? To marry Blair? To marry Colt? To figure out some impossible way we could work?
She rolls her eyes. “Check your massive ego and erection, Bronson. Yes, I want to fuck you again. We can get all kinds of kinky together. Tell me if I’m lying. Tell me I don’t make your eyes roll, your toes curl, and your thighs shake, your mind all dizzy when I make you come so hard, grunting my name.”
Fuck, she’s doing it to me now.
“But I’m no one’s distraction, Beau,” she insists. “I deserve devotion. Or, I’ll date a dozen dildos instead.”
Blair’s words bounce through my brain all morning while I try to focus on my job.
Amber was successfully escorted off the island by Coach and Colt.
I wanted to video her bitching, stumbling departure in heels down the dock. It’d make great inspo content for her followers on how to make an ass of yourself. But Colt gave me a look that promised murder, so I was content to raise a cup of coffee to her water taxi.
Blair did it, too, before she put on a distracting red bikini, scooped up her laptop, and settled under a sunshade sail by the pool.
Our first morning session with Dr. Gary opens with formalities. Coach kisses his ass, thanking him for his time.
I don’t dislike this guru guy. He’s got a PhD. I respect him but don’t believe he’ll do any good until he says, “Coach, I invite you to enjoy your vacation while I do my sessions with Bronson and Hawke alone.”
Coach clears his throat. “Of course, whatever it takes.” But he doesn’t miss a chance to aim his water bottle at us, sitting side-by-side on the sofa, warning, “Be honest, or be benched.”
Then he leaves, waving goodbye to Blair before the next water taxi whisks him away.
“Now,” Dr. Gary studies us like we’re sitting in his office, “you two have mastered the game on the gridiron. Your stats prove it. That’s not why we’re here. We’re here to master the game in your mind.”
He pauses, and I swear he’s a microscope lens burning into me. I wonder if Colt feels it as well because Dr. Gary waits way too long to speak again, and I start squirming, making sure my bare leg isn’t brushing Colt’s. We’re big men. We spread our legs when we sit, but hell no, I can’t touch him.
When I touch Colt’s body, I can’t control mine.
No one but Blair can know about us.
I glance past the screen on the narrow wall to the sunny outside, and smile, seeing Blair content, typing away on her laptop, and that’s when Dr. Gary asks the multi-billion dollar question.
“Where was your mind, your focus in the last five minutes of the Super Bowl?”
“I can’t remember,” Colt answers too quickly.
“I don’t think,” I automatically reply, “I just play.”
But the tense topic makes Colt adjust his swim trunks, and on instinct, I mimic him. And, like fuck if this doctor dude doesn’t clock our tension, too.
