Then Abilene looks at me again, as if to say, “Ready?” and I nod, even though I’m not, not really.
She puts her mouth around him. Easy, but I can tell she’s teasing.
She goes slow, slower than Jesse wants, and he makes a low, desperate sound in his throat. She reaches back for me again with her other hand, finding my belt buckle.
Just having her fingers there, fumbling with the clasp, dragging it loose, popping the button, is enough to make my pulse spike.
My zipper sticks, but then it’s open, and she reaches in and wraps her hand around me, hot and almost greedy. I gasp, or maybe whimper. I’m so hard I can barely breathe.
I press my chest to her back, and my cock slips between her thighs, right behind her leggings, and she leans into me, releasing a moan that vibrates all the way into my teeth.
Jesse groans. “Damn, Abilene. You’re fucking…”
He exhales sharp, his hips stuttering forward, and she laughs around him, a wet noise that makes me lose my damn mind.
Her hair spills over her collar, strands brushing my chin whenever I lean down. I kiss the back of her neck, right where Jesse bit her, and I feel her pulse flutter fast under my lips.
She’s got both of us, her hands working in mismatched rhythm. Jesse’s cock fills her mouth, then slips free with a wet gasp. She pants, a spit string snapping in the air.
“Don’t come yet,” she scolds him playfully. “Seriously, it’s so fucking annoying when you do.”
Jesse tries to laugh it off, but the sound comes out shaky, more as a cough. I almost pity him, until she tugs me closer and I nearly fall on top of them both.
I feel the urge to take the lead, to show Jesse up, to do something that will make Abilene remember me more than him.
“Let’s just…”
I shift her around, and she lets me, a ragdoll twist, so she’s braced on her hands and knees, hair half shielding her face from Jesse, but not from me.
Her leggings are still on; I glide a hand over her ass, press her down, line myself up. I want her so bad even the rub of my cock against the fabric feels like a miracle.
Abilene looks over her shoulder and dares, “Well?”, taunting both of us. She knows exactly how much we want it, and she’s the queen of rationing, the evil genius controlling every drop.
It’s a relief when Jesse finally understands his role, wrapping a hand in her hair to steady her, letting her guide him back. He’s a show off, but he’s also a follower; he waits for my cue.
I drag her leggings down. She lifts her hips to help, and both of us are helping, and it’s almost comical, the three sets of hands fumbling at the stretchy fabric, rushing toward the same goal with no coordination.
Abilene’s laugh bubbles up again, closer to a bark. Her leggings catch at the knees; I don’t care. Her underwear’s black and uselessly thin, and I just press my forehead to the small of her back and breathe her in, wanting to tattoo this memory behind my eyes.
Jesse lines up at her mouth again, more urgent now, and she takes him with this weird, hungry grace. He moans, and the sound rattles in my chest, lighting off another nuclear pulse of jealousy and lust.
I want to hear her moan louder. I want to see her come apart first for me, before she does for him.
I push against her, and the heat of her through that slip of cotton is almost unbearable. She arches into me and grinds back, and fuck if the friction doesn’t make my eyes water.
She wants it, wants me, and that’s more intoxicating than all the cheap vodka in the world.
Two seconds later, and I’m rutting against her, desperate, barely holding on to whatever tattered edge of self-control I have left.
I push her underwear aside, still letting her tease, and then I’m sliding into her, and my whole brain shorts out.
She’s so wet, the way it squishes between us, the staccato slap of skin on skin echoing between the walls. I look up and catch Jesse’s eye, and suddenly I don’t care about beating him.
This isn’t about fucking her. It’s about something else, brutal and comforting. She makes a noise, half moan, half exhale, and both our hands dig into her hips, carving marks for later.
And then it shatters.
I jerk awake with a violent gasp, lungs burning as if I’ve been underwater too long. My heart is slamming so hard it hurts, a wild, panicked rhythm that takes a few seconds to slow.
