Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
When he releases in my mouth, it’s like seeing a huge, strong man totally undone. I swallow, and he cries out, maybe not expecting the feeling of my throat tightening around him.
“Fuck,” Sawyer says as Colt slumps backward, clutching his now too-sensitive cock. His cheeks are flushed, and his hand has now slowed as though he doesn’t want to work himself too close. I seek out Scott, finding those dark eyes like pools of obsidian oil, watching everything. His face is expressionless, but the tick in his jaw can’t be missed.
Not knowing what he will do sends a frisson of electricity between my legs. I’m so wet there that the air licks a cool stripe through my arousal. “Can you take more?” Sawyer asks, and I nod.
“Come here.” He waits for Colt to move, then he kneels in front of me, bending to kiss me. When our tongues meet, I reach out for his cock. It’s slick across the top already and swollen beyond the point of comfort.
“Like that,” he growls against my lips, his fingers searching out my tightly drawn nipples and pinching them.
“Shit,” I mutter, the sudden sharpness of pain cutting through. My pussy aches to be filled, but how can I tell them that I need more than this and who would get to go first? I get the feeling it would be a bigger thing for them than it would be for me. That claim to my innocence would be a badge that one of them would wear for life. There’s no sharing that experience. It’s a one-time thing.
Before I get a chance to think on it anymore, Sawyer grunts and sprays his cum over my stomach.
Four down.
As I kiss Sawyer gently, his hand trembles against my face.
But there is one more man to please.
It’s Scott’s turn. No more barriers or distractions. The desperate taste of his kiss is still on my lips despite everything I’ve done with his brothers. Will it be the same if we do more? Will I like it?
I look at him again, and I’m about to tell him to come closer like I did with his twin, but before I get a chance, he leaves the room.
“Shit,” Cash mutters.
“I had a feeling that was going to happen,” Sawyer says, still panting from his release.
“What is it?” I ask.
“He’s just difficult,” Colt says. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. He’ll come around.” Stroking my hair, I blink, trying to get my head straight.
Scott just walked away. He walked away when I’m naked in front of him, waiting to make him feel good. Who the hell does he think he is?
Grabbing a discarded shirt, I wipe my skin clean and then pick up another shirt, pulling it over my arms. “I’m going after him,” I say.
“Probably best to leave him,” Cash warns. “He needs space.”
I’m on my feet, with Sawyer’s huge shirt hanging from my wrists like I’m dressed in a giant’s clothes. I don’t bother with buttons because everyone’s seen everything anyway. “I don’t think he needs space. I think he needs the opposite of space.”
“Be careful,” Cary says. “He can say hurtful things when he’s backed into a corner. He won’t spare your feelings. He’ll come out fighting and regret it tomorrow.”
“I have a thick hide,” I say, then I’m off through the door, padding down the corridor to Scott’s room. The thick, hardwood door is closed, its bronze rounded handle glinting in the low light. If he’s locked it, I doubt he’ll let me in. He’ll keep it closed as a barrier between us. But if it’s open…
Drawing in a shaky breath, I reach out. The metal is cool, and I turn it as quietly as I can, adding gentle pressure to test if it will open.
It does.
Inside, the room is pitch black. Maybe Scott didn’t come this way. Maybe he went downstairs for a glass of water or a shot of brandy, whatever he needed to cleanse his palate.
I take a hesitant step forward, eyes adjusting to the dark, searching for any sign of the man who seems intent on holding himself separate from his brothers and me. There’s a chair in the corner and, as I blink, getting more accustomed to the darkness, his form becomes apparent.
“Scott.” My voice is so breathy that I cringe, even as my heart pounds a drumbeat of nerves in the pulse at my throat.
“What do you want?”
“Why did you leave?” I take a step closer, leaving the door to swing almost closed behind me. As it does, the atmosphere in the room feels even closer.
“You don’t want me.” He says softly. “You don’t want any of this. Not really. It’s the forced proximity. It’s what happened with your home. It’s the fact that you don’t have anyone else. All of it has made you do this, but I know that you don’t really want it, and I’m not going to be a part of it.”