Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I bend down and Nacho leaps into my lap, tail wagging madly. “Was I gone forever?” I ask him.
With a happy whimper, he licks my face, giving me his yes. “Well, now I’m back, little guy,” I say, then kiss his snout and return him to the couch. Immediately, he burrows his nose into the corner sofa pillow like it’s his new girlfriend. He’s actually rubbing his face against it. “Well, someone is in insta-love,” I remark as I head to the island counter to join the guys, where they’ve set down the takeout food.
Chase hands me a glass of white wine. “Thank you,” I say, drawing a satisfied breath.
This is the life. Mediterranean food. A late-night hang with two fantastic guys. My favorite critter nearby.
But when I take a swallow, I nearly spit up the sauvignon. So much for good behavior. The perfect pup has turned full perv again. Nacho has shoved the couch pillow between his legs and is humping it.
Mortified, I set down the glass, pop up from the stool, and rush over to him. “Nacho! No! Stop now!”
That only motivates him more. He pumps faster. Rocking those doggy hips wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am style. This is so embarrassing. My dog is getting it on with our host’s pillow, and I can only imagine how he’s going to defile it any second. I do not want to clean that up. I will die.
“Go, Nacho!” Chase shouts.
“That’s it, boy! Bring it home,” Ryker catcalls.
“Don’t encourage him,” I beg.
My face flushes beet red as I grab my randy beast, but he clutches the pillow tightly, and I have to wrestle it from his libidinous paws. “We are guests,” I say, admonishing him when I finally free the pillow from his grasp.
But the horndog is still humping air. “You were supposed to be a model canine,” I chide as the guys cheer him on.
Not fair.
Nacho pumps a few more times, determined to mate with a cushion.
Then, one more time for those in the back.
But, like a wind-up toy winding down, Nacho gives a final half-cocked thrust before he runs out of steam. Thoroughly shamed, I set him on the geometric area rug in front of the couch. “Stay here. On the floor. And don’t embarrass me a second time,” I say, and Nacho curls up like he did nothing disgusting.
What a short memory.
Chase snorts from the counter.
Next to him, Ryker laughs. “Good luck with that. Your dog likes to eat undies and fuck. Chances are high he’ll embarrass you again.”
I cover my face. “I can’t believe he did that,” I say as I return to the counter, shooting Nacho a steely glare before I join the guys.
“Really? You can’t?” Ryker asks with a lift of his brow.
Chase pours some wine. “I mean, after everything you’ve told us about him.”
“Seems like this tracks for Nacho,” Ryker adds.
“But hey, at least he didn’t…finish.”
I sigh. “Yes, there is that small victory.”
Chase pats the chair. “Eat. Drink. Then, you need to get some sleep.”
“Yeah, you have to work tomorrow,” Ryker says, gruff but caring too. “You need your rest.”
Wow. Is this aftercare? For my newly unlocked threesome kink? If so, sign me up. But, in all fairness, I’m pretty sure being told to eat yummy food and go to bed early is, in fact, one of my pre-existing kinks.
It’s a life kink, if you will.
I sit down and we eat. This should feel strange, a post-sex meal with two guys. I’ve only ever done post-sex fooding with one guy, of course.
But the three of us seem to slide into these moments naturally, like we did this morning with the pancakes. Still, as I scoop up some hummus onto a pita, I’m brimming with curiosity I just can’t keep to myself. After I take a bite, I say, “So, I’m dying to know something, Chase.”
“Hit me up,” he says, putting his fork down before he takes a bite of the herb chicken.
“You’ve never done this before. This whole—” I flap a hand in the direction of the bedroom, suddenly shy again.
After what I just did, how can I be shy? Maybe it’s because talking about sex is its own kind of intimacy. It’s one thing to strip naked physically. It’s entirely another to do it emotionally, with words.
I try again, owning my awkward as much as I own my pleasure. “This whole…three-way.”
“Devil’s three-way,” Ryker adds dryly.
I sit primly. “I prefer manwich,” I say, then laugh with them.
From my dog’s dirty deeds to nicknames for threesomes, I don’t miss my ex one bit.
Wow.
I really don’t.
I sit up straighter on that realization. I don’t miss Jasper. Also, I can relax in bed. I can let go. I just needed to be with the right guy. Or, really, the right guys.
“My ex was wrong,” I say, almost like I’ve come out of a trance.