Page 219 of Drown Like Heaven
My feet were propped on the coffee table when Mason and Micah came back into the room some number of minutes later. Micah flicked off the lights, bathing the room in semi-darkness, everything tinted with blue. It was starting to get late.
Mason sat on the couch on my right side, a healthy distance between us, and Micah sat on my left, arm around my shoulders. I tucked my feet up on the cushion.
“What did you choose?” Micah asked.
“Texas Chain Saw Massacre.”
“Nice. I haven’t seen it.”
Mason didn’t speak and I didn’t look at him.
The movie started playing and I snuggled closer to Micah’s side, feeling his warmth seep through my clothes. He grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch then draped it over me. It started to rain lightly, the sound of the drops on the windows mixing with the sound of the movie.
But despite all the noise, it felt too quiet in the room. There was a tension sitting in the air, hanging on every silent exhale, swelling to fill the absence of our voices.
I moved against Micah and he shifted so I could half-lay on him, his arm draped over my chest and my legs bent carelessly up on the couch. When I stretched my legs, my heel brushed against Mason’s thigh. He didn’t move away.
Neither did I.
My eyes stayed locked on the glowing screen but my heart was skipping beats.
It started raining harder, water streaming down the glass against the backdrop of falling nighttime. Micah turned up the volume on the TV to combat the noise of the rain, then strengthened his hold on me, palm pressed against my ribs, fingers creeping around my waist. A current tightened through the room.
Unsustainable. A ticking time-bomb.
Slowly, Mason circled his fingers around my ankle and pulled my foot onto his lap. My eyes nervously flicked over to his face, but he hadn’t looked away from the screen. I pretended to watch the movie as Mason’s thumb pressed into my sole, massaging me.
I had no idea if Micah could see what he was doing, had no idea if he cared.
My breathing was shallow.
Micah adjusted his arm, sliding his touch down to my lower stomach, desperate heat following his path, building in my veins. I swallowed my moan when Mason started working the arch of my foot. I wanted to squirm, to whine and pout, to take all my clothes off and let both of them mess with me under the flickering light of the movie I’d long since stopped paying attention to.
My toes brushed against the hardening ridge of Mason’s erection and he sucked in a sharp breath, grabbing my foot harder. I didn’t want to stop.
I was almost certain Micah had noticed my foot in Mason’s lap now, the way he was inching his fingers underneath the waistband of my shorts. But he said nothing. His fingers slid lower, lower. I pushed the ball of my foot against Mason’s cock, wriggling my toes as Micah breached my underwear.
All my thoughts were fuzzy and deliriously needy and I wasn’t sure if Micah had any influence over that or not.
Mason put his palm over the back of my foot, keeping me held to him, pressing my foot harder against his cock. I arched my hips up, feeling my shirt ride up to expose a strip of my stomach, moving my foot a little, up and down. Micah shoved his hand further down, cupping my bare pussy like he owned me. I bit my lower lip to stop from whimpering. Micah’s middle finger stroked lightly through the slickness at my entrance and my breath hitched.
Abruptly, Mason shoved my foot off his lap and stood up, muttering something about going upstairs.
He walked in front of the TV and his cock was so obviously hard in his pants I knew he hadn’t done a thing to hide it before standing. My stomach clenched with a foreign combination of disappointment that he was leaving and arousal because of what’d just almost happened. I kind of hated him for being as blatant as he was.
Whether or not Micah had seen Mason’s erection, he didn’t stop what he was doing, sinking a finger inside of me now. I let my thighs fall apart, leaning back against him, moaning softly.
“So needy,” he murmured. “So soft.”
Chapter 58
Micah
It was getting harder and harder to differentiate my feelings for Dakota and my feelings for Mason when it came to sex. Having them both here hadn’t been a good idea; I needed more mental separation. Being able to feel all their emotions tied me up in them, like a spiderweb I was losing the ability to navigate.
Ever since seeing the truck, Mason had been acting weird. I’d figured it would affect him, but not this much. Maybe it was easier for me since I’d been used to seeing it every day for the past however-many years.
Honestly, I was regretting letting him see it at all, because I was concerned he’d scratch up the paint on purpose, or do something else to ruin it.
