On unsteady legs, I got up and grabbed the small bottle from his duffel by the couch. He and I hadn’t done anything together since that night in St. John. We didn’t have a private place to be and a part of me felt as though maybe if we hooked up together without Faye that it was cheating on her in a way.
When I turned back, Dylan was already taking off his shorts. I did the same, my fingers fumbling with the tie. We stood naked before each other, both of our dicks hard and ready.
I walked back to the bed, the bottle in my hand. He moved to lie back on the pillows, and I knelt on the mattress between his legs.
I slicked my fingers, my hands shaking slightly. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
He just nodded, his eyes locked on mine.
I reached for his shaft. He groaned as I fisted him, then let out a long breath, his body relaxing as I slid my hand up and down his length. I took my time, getting him ready, watching his face for any sign he wasn’t okay as I jerked his cock. When I finally slipped a finger into his back hole, he let out a sharp gasp, and his head fell back against the pillow.
“Is this okay?” I questioned.
“Yeah.” His hips pushed back slightly against my hand. “More.”
I added a second finger and worked him slowly and carefully until he was writhing under my touch. His erection was hard against his stomach, and his gasps were coming fast. “Jase … please …”
“Please, what?”
“Please fuck me.”
I pulled my fingers out and slicked myself, the cool gel a shock against my heated skin. I moved over him, bracing my weight on my arms. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and dark.
“Ready?” I whispered.
He nodded, his hands coming up to grip my arms. “Yeah, do it.”
I guided myself to him, pressing against his puckered rim. I waited, my eyes searching his. He gave a small nod.
I pushed.
The feeling was beyond anything. The tight squeeze, the incredible heat of him, the way his body opened and then held me. A broken sound tore from my throat. Throwing his head back, he cried out and dug his nails into my arms. I slid into him slowly until I was buried as deep as I could go, and our bodies were pressed together.
I stopped, trying not to move. “Dylan …”
“Move,” he begged “Please, Jase, move.”
So I did.
The first few times were slow and careful, letting us both get used to the feeling of me inside him and him taking me. But with each push of my hips, the rhythm found itself, growing deeper and more sure. Sensation took over, the slide of his sweat-slick skin under my hands, the choked sounds he made with every thrust, the intense heat tightening around me and pulling me in.
Then my gaze fell on Faye.
She wasn’t just watching anymore. Her hand had slipped inside her panties, her fingers moving in slow, firm circles against herself. Her head was tilted back against the chair, her lips parted, and her eyes half closed yet fixed on us, on the place where we were joined. Seeing her like that, lost in her own pleasure as she watched us, sent a wave of pure pleasure straight through my core. It made every thrust feel stronger, more right.
“Look at her,” I grunted.
Dylan’s eyes flicked to the chair. “Fuck,” he breathed, his hips pushing back to meet my next drive. “She’s?—”
“I know,” I cut him off, driving into him harder. My control was slipping. “You feel … God, D, you feel …”
I couldn’t finish. Words wouldn’t come. All I could do was feel the mounting pressure and the slick rub while watching Faye’s hand move faster, her moans coming in sharp little gasps. It was all too much. I was going to fall over the edge.
Dylan gasped, his hand moving between us to stroke himself. “I’m close.”
I was right there with him, on the edge of exploding deep inside him, but I didn’t want to fall off it. Not yet. Not without her.
With a strength I didn’t know I had, I buried myself deep inside him and stilled my hips. A rough, frustrated sound tore from his throat.
