Page 27 of Triple Tidings
“It’s not that, I just…” My feeble excuses to get out of the intimacy of the moment fall away, leaving me standing there, drained.
Fuck, I’m such an asshole, disappointing both of them.
“Fine.” I don’t look at either of them, pretending I’m focused on the movie as I get stiffly onto the bed, taking the spot beside Lacey.
She pulls a fuzzy throw blanket over my lap with a glowing smile as August passes over my own, personal bag of overpriced, locally made popcorn.
I’ve been in relationships, monogamous ones with people I thought I loved, but even then, I never quite got over feeling stiff and awkward in situations like this. The longer I sit here with them, however, the easier it seems to become. I even find myself relaxing back into the pillows as, beneath the blanket, Lacey reaches out to lace her fingers through mine.
“Don’t forget to charge him for all this mini bar shit,” I tell her under my breath, indicating the snacks. “He’s a doctor. He can afford it.”
Lacey giggles, nudging my leg with her toes as August, who has an arm thrown over her shoulders, flicks my ear. “Careful, or I’ll replace it with the shit fromyourroom,” he warns, even as a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.
I scoff. “Going to break in?”
August leans past Lacey to look at me properly, wearing a smile that does uncomfortably good things to me. “I don’t think breaking and entering will be necessary, Davis. I have my ways.”
Between us, Lacey sighs. “You just had your fingers in his ass, August. I think you’re close enough to call him Wells.”
Our laughter drowns out the TV, as does the animated debate that follows it.
My stiffness and discomfort are forgotten as we talk through most of the movie, exchanging commentary on whatever’s happening on screen or throwing in our own holiday stories. When the credits finally roll, we start another one, which leads to more of the same.
And it’s easy.
My relationship with August was hardly the only one I cut off at its knees. Didn’t I do the same thing to Lacey when I assumed she wouldn’t want anything more to do with me after our encounter last summer?
It’s a long-standing belief I’ve held that if I were to let someone close enough to see me properly, they wouldn’t like what they found. Here I am, though, being entirely myself with two people I wrote off, and—fuck me—it feels good.
Twelve
Lacey
It feels like somebody took a wiffle ball bat to my vagina.
Probably to be expected, when I spent last night being unapologetically fucked by not one, but two very well-endowed men.
It was good, too.
Like,really good.
I’ve had one-night stands, of course. I enjoyed a pretty epic hoe phase in college and did the dating app thing for a while. My attention has been on The Chestnut, though, and apart from two notable exceptions, those sexual encounters led to pretty varied levels of success in the “achieving orgasm” department.
Making me come wasn’t something Wells or August seemed to have a problem with. Independently or as a group project. Both of them treated it like an outcome even more desirable than finishing themselves, and never once did it seem like they were doing me a favor by ensuring my needs were met before their own.
After our impromptu movie marathon, there was yet another round of epic sex, this time with me on my hands and knees while August fucked my mouth and Wells drilled into me from behind.
We all passed out shortly after finishing, and I woke up in a hot tangle of male bodies, with gray morning light shining through the crack in the curtains. Wells—who was using my back as a pillow—only grumbled when I slipped out of bed, limping to the bathroom in his flannel.
By the time I finished peeing, wiping cum from my inner thighs, washing my face, and running my damp fingers through my curls to revive them a little, both men were awake. Wells was already in the process of zipping up his pants and barely glanced at me as I emerged from the bathroom while August was still bleary-eyed and tousle-haired, frowning at him from his place on the bed.
He got all tense and monosyllabic last night, too, but I was so sure we’d put him at ease. Before I could think what to say to bridge his dark mood, though, Wells is gone, muttering something about checking on the store as he strode from the room.
“Ouch.” I wince when the door slams behind him.
August offers me a gentle, reassuring smile as he sits up against the headboard. “It isn’t a commentary on you, or what happened between us. He gets overwhelmed, I think.” He sighs. “It seems some things don’t change.”
“It was a lot. I get it,” I assure him, even thoughgetting itdoesn’t save me from a sharp sting of rejection as I find my panties in a crumpled heap by the end of the bed.
