She comes then, tipping forward, body pressed to mine as I hold her through it, as Brayden grunts and buries himself deep inside her, thrusting like he’s never going to stop.
He regains himself quickly, pulling out, cupping her pussy where she’s beginning to drip. “You’re not done,” he says to me, then points to the floor.
“You gonna put me in my place?” I ask.
“Maybe.”
“And where’s that?”
He grins. “Wherever I tell you it is.”
And what if that’s with you both?I can’t say it. Can’t even think it. Just slide myself down. Savannah’s still leaning over the couch, arms locked against the top of the cushions, legs splayed.
I settle between them, widening her hips and burying my face in her warm wet cunt. I can taste her—and him and myself—all mixed together, and I moan as I lap up our combined release.
Distantly, I can hear Brayden spit, then he grasps my cock as it tries to thicken again. He gives me a few experimental pumps that seem like he’s searching for a rhythm. “However you do that for yourself,” I rasp out.
For a moment, I think he’s going to bristle at being told what to do, the way he does in fielding practice. Then he spits, slows his grip, jerks me hard and certain and a little punishing.
It doesn’t take much. I come again from her taste and her sounds and the praise of her fingers in my hair. From knowing he’s touching me the way he wants to be touched himself, an orgasm I can feel in my balls and the base of my spine and in the few last spurts of come left in me that find their way onto Brayden’s wrist. Savannah’s thighs lock around my head and for a moment, I’m held there, suspended, wrapped up in both of them.
After, Savannah’s shaking doesn’t stop, the same sudden slip into half-consciousness she’d had the first time she and I were together, then again, more intensely when we were in that bathroom. “Hey, whoa, don’t fall.” I scramble up to catch her, motioning to Brayden to do the same. “She’s going to?—”
Brayden's eyes flash with momentary terror as we help her collapse against the couch.
Shouldn’t you know she does that?I want to ask him. He should. He should know every whorl of her fingerprints and every freckle on her skin, every piece of her he’s lucky enough to have and I only get to taste briefly.
Still, we all find our way to the couch, Brayden and I on opposite ends with Savannah lying down, her head on Brayden’s shoulder, her legs draped over mine. “Some view,” she says, finally, tiredly, nodding out the window toward the city that, somehow, has kept going around us.
“I got this place for the view.” I lean to kiss her. “It’s better now.”
She huffs a laugh at that. “You need to work on your game.”
“I don’t know.” I lean over at where Brayden is lounging against my couch cushions, looking entirely smug. “I did get you and your husband into bed.”
I’m about to kiss him too when a look comes over Brayden, his entire expression shuttering.
Fuck.
Brayden scrambles off the couch, then begins circling the living room, picking up his clothes. He pulls them on out of order: shirt, then one sock, then underwear, then finally his pants, buttoning, zipping, redoing his belt, motions frantic like he’s just now realizing who he’s with.
What we’ve just done.
Whathe’sjust done. And who he’s done it with. A man.Me.
“I’m—” He cuts himself off.
“Bray, are you…” Savannah doesn’t finish the sentence. He’s obviously notokay. She looks at me as if I know what to do other than to simply let him pretend that he didn’t want this just as she and I did.
He’s not the first guy I’ve been with who was supposedly straight any time his hand wasn’t on my dick. Usually, they wait until they leave and just send a cowardly text from their Uber ride home. Maybe I should be grateful he’s doing this to my face.
He opens and closes his mouth a few times like he’s trying to say something other thanI got what I came for and now we’re gonna leave. “We shouldn’t do this?—”
I don’t wait for him to finish. We can’t. Of course we can’t. That much is obvious. We’re on the same team. They’re married. None of this would even begin to work. I’ll always be outside their lives, looking in.
Anger surges inside of me, the kind I keep carefully contained. Therapy, meditation apps, none of that’s doing anything right now. My hand curls before I force my fingers to relax.You knew how this was going to be.Yet I did it anyway. “Fine,” I snap. “You both go ahead.”
“You’re not coming back to the hotel?” Savannah is still in her bra. Now she picks up her dress from the carpet, clutches it in front of her protectively.
