Blair comes first, her orgasm almost silent as she grabs my arms, her pussy tightening around my cock. Nipples that were hard harden more as she comes and I lean to take one in my mouth.
“Fucking love watching you suck her tits.” Isaac’s chin grazes my shoulder. He’s hard and thick inside me, taking long dirty strokes. “And seeing you fuck her, knowing what she’s feeling when you’re inside her.”
I feel Blair tightening again and hear her cry out. Isaac stills, knowing I want to up the pace, slackening away so I can lift up Blair’s leg onto my shoulder, going in deeper than I did before.
I look up, catching sight of us in the mirror, a carnival of limbs and skin. Isaac’s muscles tense, his expression fixed with concentration. Blair clenches around my cock and comes again and I lose control, pressing in wildly and deeply, coming inside her.
Isaac pulls out of me, emptying himself over my back, his arms braced either side of us on the mattress and we collapse into a heap of everything.
For time we say nothing. The silence of the New Year keeps us in a place where reality doesn’t exist, a perfect place of touch and comfort and warmth.
“We should shower.” I manage to get the words out as Blair’s eyes close.
“Too tired.”
“It’ll take five minutes.”
I carry her into the walk in shower, Isaac behind her and turn the water on hot and hard. There’s no need for anything more than simply soaping down, the water soothing and when she ends up in Isaac’s arms while I wash her back and between her legs, the only feeling I have isn’t one of jealousy, it’s peace.
Something here is so right. And it’s only just beginning.
* * *
We change the sheets and slip between them clean, finding our space in bed easily as it’s now a habit. I feel my breathing slow, both Blair and Isaac asleep quickly. The stars and the waning moon are visible through the window and I wish they wouldn’t move, that this moment could be frozen in time and I’d never have to leave it.
Chapter 21
January
No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn. - Hal Borland
Idream of the sea.
Waves crash and a boat rises and falls on the tide. No one else is on board, just me, and I’m watching the horizon, waiting for land to appear.
None rises.
The sea and the sky are white-grey. No seagulls fly around me and everything is plain and desolate.
There is nothing I can do but wait, but for what I don’t know.
And I don’t know when it will happen.
I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
It’s the sound of something vibrating that wakes me. I’m not on a boat, on an ocean that’s as anonymous as the sky over a desert, I’m in a bed with two other people and it’s still dark outside.
I untangle myself from their limbs, Blair’s hair doing its usual job of trying to feed me, and pull the covers over them both because it’s now cold outside. The vibration has stopped, but I know that just means I’ve missed a call and anything important will have a second call and a third until I’ve answered.
There’s another quiver of noise and I find the damn phone, my personal one, the one that only three people have the number for because my personal life doesn’t really exist.
The message on the screen isn’t text. It isn’t the usual Happy New Year text that I’ve missed out on over the years. It’s a photograph, a snow covered hut with pines surrounding it, the glint of light on the snow from a waning moon.
I know where this place is.
