Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I try to respond verbally but find that I can’t. All I can do in answer is help Alec’s controlled stroking by thrusting with my legs on the sink’s edge, forcing myself to ride Danny harder and faster. All the while, Alec doesn’t let go of my flesh and kisses the back of my neck.
I don’t want this to end. I don’t want this to ever end. I don’t want to know, ever again, the feeling of not being together. The three of us. I don’t think I could handle it. Not again. I hate that I have this weakness, this desperation, this need for these two people, but I loathe the very idea of not having them near me more.
We’re going to finish this thing. This is it. We’ll finish this thing, whatever “this thing” is, and that will be it. We’ll move on. We’ll find peace. We have to. I have to. Happiness is not something I expect to know, but this… whatever it is that we share—call it contentment, call it comfort, shit, call it what it is: Inexplicable desire that most people never have the luck of finding—this we can hold onto. This connection we share, we can hold onto that.
And just as that thought scrambles loudly into my brain, Danny explodes inside me with a yelp. It happens so fast I barely realize it’s occurring. I didn’t know he was about to come, but I can feel every ounce of his eruption emptying into me. And I don’t want that to stop either. Neither does Danny. I can tell. Because he keeps forcing it. Thrusting his hips up until I’ve drained out the last bit of him into my own body.
He hangs his head forward as he pushes the hot stickiness out of himself and lets his cheek rest on my shoulder blade. I feel a hand stroking my head. Alec. He rubs the back of my head and neck and then wraps all of us in a hug, binding the three of us together.
“Thank you, my loves. Thank you for… everything,” he says.
We stand there stock still for a moment, all of us breathing hard, and I am suddenly overtaken by an ominous anxiety. Something awaits us that we can’t possibly be prepared for. Something dark and evil and filled with malice.
“Thank you for everything,” Alec repeats. And hearing him continue to say it causes me to realize… things aren’t going to be the same when we’re done.
They won’t ever be the same again.
I work to banish that thinking. It’s so fucking like me, in a moment like this, to allow notions of doom and gloom to violate the peace, so I try to strike it from my brain. Just be here now. Be here. In this moment. Not a million miles away worried about some imaginary future that doesn’t exist. Just be here now. Because…
“Yeah,” I manage to mumble, stopping my own, unhelpful thoughts from winning the moment and ruining this perfect second in time. I look at the reflection of Alec’s handsome face in the mirror and he winks. There’s something mischievous about it. Something satisfied. Something… kind. I tilt my head. Danny doesn’t see what I see, I don’t think. He’s fixated on what I just said to him. I know that’s his primary concern right now because he leans his mouth again in to my ear.
“What?” he whispers back in delayed reaction to my lonely, seemingly unrelated acknowledgement. “Yeah, what?”
I pull my head off his shoulder, look at him in his eyes as hard as I can, no longer trying to hide my tears, and tell him…
“I can feel you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I’ve manipulated people my whole life. Mostly for my own ends. That’s why, I suppose, almost all manipulators manipulate. To gain something for themselves.
What are you willing to do, Alec?
Seducing Danny and Christine into being together is the first time I’ve ever done so for someone else’s benefit. Someone(s) else. I’m not sure what that means exactly, but I think it might mean that I’m learning. Or growing. Or some fokken thing.
Or maybe I just care about them.
Pulling up to what is now the third warehouse we’ve visited today—a detail that causes me to laugh to myself a bit for some reason—Christine, Danny and I are doing something we’ve never done before.
We’re holding hands.
Just sitting in the rear row of a Sprinter van filled with guns and fokken incendiary devices and kak, holding hands. I hold Christine’s and she holds Danny’s. Eliza sits in the row in front of us once more, staring straight ahead, oblivious to the fact.
And I am reminded now of that girl. The Southern one I threw off the bridge that time all those years ago. There have been disruptions to our trio over the years, of course there have. Interruptions to the flow and order of things. But somehow we always find our way back to each other.