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Ryan seems easy in his skin, and with that strong body he has every right. I’m pretty comfortable, too. With my job and working out regularly, I guess I look okay.
But Brylee is blushing non-stop and folding her arms over her tits to cover them. God, she’s so cute. Doesn’t she know how sexy she is? She’s a goddamn goddess. I can’t wait for the day she’ll let us fuck her properly, make her scream our names.
And fuck, now I’m thinking in plural. As if this is normal. As if it will last.
As if she’ll let either of us fuck her, when she’s waiting for the right guy to give up her virginity to.
Unless she changed her mind, like she hinted at the other day. Would she? Because man, that would be… so fucking awesome. To show her how good it can be.
And if I got to share it with Ryan… even better.
Why do I want them both so much, goddammit? Why does the idea of having sex with both of them at the same time turn me on so fucking much?
Jesus.
We roll under the covers, and at first we lie apart. Not for long, though. Brylee is in the middle, and we turn toward her, toward each other. She draws us in like our magnetic core, like gravity, and we rotate around her.
We’re a constellation. A universe.
Tangled up with her, legs and arms and torsos twisted together, we fall asleep in the dark.
***
“Come with me,” Ryan says the next day as we slide around his kitchen table, sipping strong coffee.
He’s dressed in soft drawstring pants that hang low on his narrow hips, his perfect chest bare and gleaming in the morning light.
Brylee is wrapped up in his shirt from yesterday, the classic formality of it over her naked curves making my mouth run dry and my cock hard.
I reach down to adjust my hard-on in my borrowed sweats, and both their gazes dip between my legs.
Shit. “Come?” I whisper.
Ryan’s eyes turn dark as he looks up at my face. “I could make you come.”
I bet he could. Easily. Repeatedly.
Like last night.
“Come where?” Brylee asks, swallowing hard, her nipples poking through the thin shirt.
Fuck… Yeah, I could come right now, buried inside her.
“To the lake house,” Ryan says. “We could leave Friday night, or Saturday morning and stay the weekend.”
My brain’s kinda stuck on the fact he’s saying he owns a lake house—a house, that’s already much, although it has to be a family property—and doesn’t pick up the rest until a long moment passes.
By then, Brylee is turning to me, her eyes bright. “I’m not sure...Maybe? Rid, would you go?”
“It’s a quiet place, with woods and nobody around for miles,” Ryan says excitedly. “Less than two hours drive from here. There’s a hot tub outside on the terrace. We can light up the fireplace and drink booze, watch TV and laze around all day.”
And fuck.
Probably.
Sounds like heaven. So I don’t know why my throat is dry with something like uncertainty, or maybe panic. “No way man, I have to work Saturday. Can’t afford to lose a single day of pay. But you two go, have fun. Bry called it last night. You’re beat, you need some vacation.”
And it’s true. I agree with her. He fucking scared me, passing out like that yesterday, and he does look tired—sexy but tired, something I’d noticed the last few times I saw him already.
