“Yet,” I add.
“You’re really happy?” Kai asks.
The footsteps on the stairs tell me I don’t have long to answer. I can only fall for Isla now because Kai patiently showed me how to fall for him, but that would take too long to explain. “More than I knew I could be.”
Then, I slide my hand over Kai’s cock, tucked hard and tight in his denim, and he breathes deeply as I squeeze firmly. “Love the feel of your dick in my hand.”
“Let me take your jeans and underwear off so you can have some privacy when it hurts,” Kai says.
“I don’t mind her seeing. I mean, if we do this, those things should be shared equally, not kept from her, right?”
Isla takes that moment to reappear. She’s barefoot and glowing in that way that makes something sharp and protective flourish in my gut. The fact she’s wearing her hair up in a cute, messy bun, is draped in my T-shirt that dwarfs her, and doesn’t hesitate to join us when Kai reaches out his hand for her doesn’t help.
For some reason, I find her fascinating. Slim fingers with short, polished nails. Long eyelashes. The feel of her hips in my hands, so much less sturdy than mine and Kai’s frames. Then, I look at Kai and realize that I’m still fascinated by him. The way that dark, thick hair slips through my fingers, his slightly pointed canines that make him look so youthful when he smiles.
She frames Kai’s face with her hands and kisses him. From this angle, I can see the way their tongues meet, the way his hands slide up her back and hold her tight. I wonder if I could ever convince the two of them to let me take some photographs. God knows I’ve got enough photos of Kai’s cock on my phonealready, but I wonder whether that openness stretches to letting me photograph it in use.
My cock aches at the thought of the very best kind of porn…between two people who love each other as much as I love them.
It’d be so fucking hot.
I loosen the belt on my jeans and open the button and zipper to give my cock some room. Sliding my hand beneath my underwear, I reach for it and stroke it firmly.
“Can I?” Kai asks as he slides his hand between Isla’s thighs but hovers by the hem of the T-shirt.
Isla nods. “Please.”
Kai smiles at whatever he finds there. Wetness, I assume. A sign she’s into this as much as we are. Isla places her hands on his shoulders, and her head dips forward. Her face is pretty on the worst days, but watching her like this? When she’s open and safe and aroused?
When she stops worrying about who she is and her place in the world?
She’s beautiful.
And her joy reassures me that what is happening right here and now is enough to keep her anchored with us.
29
ISLA
The first thing I noticed, before the mouths and hands and touches in intimate places, is how careful they are with me.
And I never thought I’d find that, especially if people knew my history. I’ve slept with a lot of people, in a world that can often lean kinky. People’s expectations are high when they know that.
I’ve even had threesomes before. Enough of them to understand the logistics and the awkward moments searching for comfort or where to put a hand. Someone always ends up watching for a while, someone waiting. Because of the world I lived in, where bikers are typically both greedy and selfish, it was usually two women and one biker. Because God forbid a man can share with another one.
But what this is, isn’t that.
They tiptoe into each sexual encounter to ensure I’m okay with every step.
After all, I’m in the middle of their living room, Garrett stroking his cock, while Kai eases his fingertips through my wetness.
And I’m perfectly fine with it.
For a heartbeat, I think about what Karlie said. That I look like a con artist, trying to elevate myself above the club girls so I’ll be taken seriously. The words were rough and hurt my heart.
“You okay?” Garrett asks.
Of course, he’d notice. “I really want to stay in this moment with you. Can I tell you later?”
