I wouldn’t even have objected. I was in the glorious space between wakefulness and sleep, my brain turned off, body ruled by sensation: the smooth skin of Jagger’s chest, his strong arms around my body, as secure as a safety harness.
But when he set me on the bed, he immediately pulled the covers up around my shoulders.
I blinked sleepily up at him and watched as he pulled out his phone. A second later the shades in my room lowered, blocking out the sun.
“You’re not going to fuck me?” I could barely get the words out around my desire to sleep, and I noticed my words were slurred, like I’d been out drinking with Daisy.
He stared down at me with an expression I couldn’t place, the only time he’d looked anything other than placid.
When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Sleep as long as you need.”
And then he was gone.
20
CASSIE
The room was sodark when I woke up that I assumed it was the dead of night.
Then I remembered: Jagger carrying me to bed, the shades lowering over the windows, the strange way he’d looked at me before he left the room.
I stretched, relishing the slide of expensive sheets against my bare arms and legs, and thought about the men who were my roommates for the next three months.
I’d been so tired in the kitchen before I’d crashed that it almost seemed like a dream, but now I remembered how they’d looked: walls of muscle and ink, dark gazes and big hands.
My pussy tingled and I slid a hand under the sheets and up my T-shirt, palming my tits and pinching my nipples between my fingers. It felt good, but then I imagined it was one of the Hawks, Vigo or Jagger, touching me like they had in the tunnel, and hunger roared to life at my center.
I slipped one hand under the waistband of my boxers and underwear, over the hair covering my mound, then slid it through my folds, imagining it was Hawk kneeling at my feet, his face inches away from my pussy.
My nipple got harder between my fingers and I dipped a finger inside the hot tunnel of my pussy and stifled a moan. After what they’d done to me in the tunnels, it was all too easy to imagine it was Hawk playing with my cunt while Vigo and Jagger sucked on my tits.
I circled my wet fingers over my clit and gasped as an orgasm bubbled to the surface. I could almost feel Hawk’s tongue, hot and demanding on my clit, his fingers plunging inside me, all the way this time.
I moved my hips on my fingers and pinched my nipples, imagining the hot suction of Vigo’s mouth as Jagger swept my mouth with his tongue, Hawk busy between my thighs, making me come with his mouth before he got on his knees and pushed his cock all the way inside me.
I gasped when I came, my body rigid as I shuddered with pleasure, closing my eyes and willing the release to go on and on before I finally fell limp against the mattress, my fingers wet and sticky, my breath coming fast and shallow.
I lay there in the pleasant aftermath of my orgasm, not all that eager to come back to reality where life was a lot more complicated than three gorgeous men who wanted to fuck me with their kinky toys.
In the real world I still had to get rid of my virginity. I still had to live with the Hawks in this beautiful but unfamiliar house. I still had to explain to Daisy what I’d done.
Worst of all, I still had to deal with Bram.
In spite of my earlier bravado, my chest tightened with anxiety. I hated fighting with Bram — and there would definitely be a fight once he realized I planned to honor my ninety-day commitment to the Hawks.
I sighed and reached for my phone. I’d been right about one thing: it was nighttime, but just after 9 p.m. rather than after midnight.
I had two texts: one from Daisy with a picture of the baby sleeping on Jace’s bare chest and another from Bram checking in.
I hearted the baby pic and sent an appropriately gushing comment, told Bram all was well and I hoped they were having fun in Bali, and set my phone down before I could start spiraling about the fact that literally everyone in my life was going to think I’d lost my mind.
Then I got up to use the bathroom and wash my hands.
I turned on the lights next to the bed and looked around. It really was a nice room, designed by someone who knew what they were doing (had the Hawks hired an interior designer or was one — or all — of them hiding design talent?) with sturdy warm furniture and a serene color palette in greens and purples. There was even a little sofa with a prime view of the TV mounted to the wall.
I was going to pay a price for being here, but I could do worse as accommodations went.
I went to work unpacking my things, setting my underwear, pajamas, T-shirts, and tank tops in the dresser and hanging the two casual dresses I’d brought in the cavernous walk-in closet. I had no idea what kind of attire I’d need during my ninety days with the Hawks, but I’d still have to go to the shop, and Jagger had said I wasn’t a prisoner so I assumed I’d still be seeing Bram and Daisy and Sarai. I’d packed my biggest staples, reassuring myself with Jagger’s words when I felt panicked that I might have forgotten something.
