by Kent, Julia
Over the past six months she’d worked so hard to let go of her self-conscious inhibitions, and was largely there. For the most part.
Almost.
The sex cabin Mike had built really helped. And so did adding a part-time nanny two months ago. Cyndi was a doll. A dream. Mary Poppins without the uptight attitude. She didn’t have to be practically perfect, because she was loving and warm and safe and beyond good enough. The guys wouldn’t settle for anything less than the loving grandmother Cyndi was for Jillian, and as their little baby turned into a walking, jabbering toddler, they’d all done better with a little space.
Twenty hours a week, Laura could just be. Just be all by herself, while Dylan handled his foundation’s charity work, or while Mike managed the ski resort. Just be while she worked with Josie on the threesome dating service she’d created.
Just be with her e-reader and her imagination.
And now—just be with Dylan and Mike in the sex cabin.
The lost libido that seemed hopeless to try to find six months ago had come roaring back with a deafening rush of need when Jillian had turned one year old last month. Certain she was meant to enjoy affection and sex but not desperately want it with that gnawing, alarming need that makes the shared release of sexual touch and connection, Laura had found herself blossoming in new ways.
And “blossom” sounded so demure. Prim, even.
She was turning into a fucking animal—and the operative word was “fucking.” This went beyond the mild exhaustion Dylan and Mike had exhibited as her sexual desire reawakened. This new feeling was like being a nineteen-year-old boy. She hummed with urges and cravings and—oh, my…
Dylan was naked, on the cabin’s deck, chugging a nice cold one down like something out of a really fancy clothing-optional resort commercial.
Not that she’d ever seen one of those commercials, but if they ever made them, they needed to hire Dylan.
Just like this.
“Why are you naked?” Mike shouted as he grabbed a cooler of food to put in the cabin’s fridge. Cyndi was back at the house for five hours today, and they intended to take advantage of every single second. Mike’s idea of “taking advantage” was decidedly different from hers and Dylan’s. After the first round of sex Mike would make tenderloin steaks and grilled vegetables on the giant smoker he treated like a second child, while Dylan and Laura would make fun of him and, maybe, have a little round of lovemaking to themselves.
That was what her mind filled in. But as Mike trundled through the doorway carrying a fifty-pound cooler on his shoulder like it was a pillow, she wondered how he’d look grilling naked.
I need to get a life, she thought.
I have the best fucking life, she corrected herself. Don’t need another one.
“What are you waiting for? Didn’t you get the memo? It’s naked country life day,” Dylan joked. The sun covered his slightly-less-tan body in a way that was so appealing. Her own skin was so white these days you could use it as a reflector to guide search parties.
Mike was the only one who managed to stay tan year round, and Laura was beginning to suspect he’d given the devil his pinkie toe in exchange for looking that good, even in the dim month of February when the sun didn’t come near New England.
“You want me naked?” she teased.
Both men shouted, “Yes!” It was like having boyfriends in stereo.
Two baby daddies, she thought, Darla’s words echoing through her mind. The phone call earlier had been odd. Halting. A bit much, but a relief to have it done. Josie might be right. Maybe talking to another woman who had two men in her life—permanently—was a good idea.
Right now, though, she didn’t want to think about the future. Or worry about implications. Her present mind was right here, right now, and she wanted to lick and touch and stroke some flesh. To get back what she gave. And to have an orgasm...or twenty...so powerful she would scare small woodland creatures.
She might very well accomplish that feat right now by stripping naked, but by God, as she removed her underwear and hung them on a deck railing, she was going to obey Dylan’s request.
“Two out of three of us are—oh!” Dylan said as he corrected himself, Mike strolling out of the cabin completely buck naked, holding two glasses of wine by the stems. “I guess all three of us are in uniform.”
“Uniform?” Laura asked, laughing as she peeled off her socks. “The sex cabin has a uniform?”
The cold air stung at her ankles, the not-quite-summer sky a pale, hazy blue through the treetops. If they stayed outside for much longer she’d begin to shiver, but the warm rays of the sun homed in on her shoulder, her forehead, her belly, her calves, and she enjoyed the good with the cold.
The cold had no effect on Dylan and Mike, who had very distinct parts of them standing at attention. If they had the ability to point with them, she’d be the target.
“Sex cabin?” Dylan sputtered, laughter making his ab muscles roll in mesmerizing patterns. “You call this a sex cabin?”
“Isn’t that what it is?” she asked with faux innocence, biting her lip suggestively.
“You coming inside? Because the sex cabin is most certainly ready to be used as its name suggests,” Mike said with a suggestive leer. His eyes ate her up, and she let him, feeling the genuine love and lust in him.
“Inside, outside, on the deck, bent over the kitchen counter, on the couch,” Dylan mused, finishing his beer. “She’s coming, all right.”
Talk like this used to make her blush.
Now she upped the ante.
“That a wager? How many times can you make Laura come in five hours?”
Mike choked a bit on his red wine. “You want to place bets on sex?”
Dylan’s shoulders straightened, arms curling out a bit, forearms curved like they were carved by a woodworker with a lathe and fine artisanal tools. “Why not? Sounds friendly and fun.”
“What about you two? How many times do I have to make you come?” she teased.
Mike looked skyward, his face twisted into a very thoughtful expression. “I think my refractory period is…”
“Math?” Dylan gawked. “You’re doing sex math?” He marched into the cabin and returned with another beer, his ass so fine Laura felt hypnotized by it.
“What’s wrong with sex math?” Laura asked. Mike acted like they weren’t even there, now touching the tips of his fingers and shaking his head, muttering to himself.
“It’s…math! Who brings math into the bedroom?”
“Math can be sexy,” she protested. “One breast,” she said, holding hers toward him. “Two breasts,” she added, cupping both and pushing them together to make cleavage worthy of the best Regency dame.
Dylan stared at her nipples. “Okay. You convinced me.”
“Five!” Mike uttered.
“Five orgasms? You want me to give you how many in five hours?” Laura gasped.
“At your age?” Dylan added, laughing his (fine) ass off.
“What do you mean my age? We’re the same age!” Mike protested.
Dylan paused. His turn to do math. Laura opened her mouth to make a comment about it when Dylan said, “You’re older than me by a few months. And I can’t come five times in five hours.”
Mike and Laura asked in unison: “How would you know that?”
He turned bright red and muttered, “Just trust me.”
“YouPorn,” Mike and Laura said, in unison again.
“Quit ganging up on me!” Dylan grabbed Laura’s phone, which she’d set on the deck railing, and held up the display. “We’ve wasted seventeen minutes talking about refractory periods and making bets. When are we going to have sex?”
“After we enjoy a nice glass of wine,” Laura said. She was enjoying the view, too. And not just the trees swaying in the wind. Her nice view was decidedly of the human male animal variety.
“The clock is ticking, there’s a bet I might lose if we don’t get busy, and you want to drink wine?�
� Dylan said in a tone of outrage. Indignation, even.
“You want me to drop everything—”
“No. Just to your knees,” he said in a charged voice with such a commanding tone that she sashayed over to him, pulled a cushion from one of the redwood chaise lounges on the deck, and threw it on the ground in front of him. Handing her wine glass to him, she put her hands on his shoulders and bent down to lick one tight nipple, his body tensing with her touch. His erection bobbed up with a tight, craning motion that made her feel like it was tracing a line on her leg.
“Your wish is my command,” she whispered as she bent down before him. She could feel his surprise as she grasped him at the base and stroked lightly upward with a feather touch. She reached up and squeezed his shoulders, her fingertips trailing down his large, muscled chest that was sprinkled with a touch of dark hair in all the right places.
Her palms cupped the long line of ribs that were so cut, muscles built out in layers from his back, the sheer animal power inherent in those muscles making her wet. Looking at Dylan from a sexual place was fun and purely sensual, but it wasn’t just the eye candy that she appreciated. The protectiveness, the power, the promise of being cared for and rescued—of being safe—made his body a symbol for so many emotional states.
Her fingers reached down past his waist, unencumbered by clothing. His eyes were on her, burning a hole in her head, and if she tipped her chin up to greet them she knew she’d find his dark eyes burning for her.
She didn’t need to look up, though. What she needed was to listen to his request and fulfill it. Having so much time together—all three of them—was a new luxury. Some day this would be old hat, she thought, as her lips grazed his belly button, making Dylan inhale sharply and clench his abs, which rolled like steel balls under silk.
Knowing she provoked that in him—her, and her alone—made Laura grateful for this time, this cabin, for the fact that all three of them were willing to carve out space for their relationship.
They needed this.
Her mouth slid up from his sac with a warm, wet kiss on his shaft that made him grasp the deck railing and tighten, legs bending slightly at the knees as, she knew, he braced himself for the pleasure she was about to give.
“Five hours,” she murmured. “Plenty of time to recover.” Laura knew he knew exactly what she meant, because the groan that vibrated through him, reaching her mouth as she engulfed him in full, was the sound of a man who could unleash and relax, unfold and de-stress. Most of their sex life involved quickies and halfway blow jobs, everyone eager to preserve the climax for intercourse, which meant this simple act of giving from Laura was simply that. A gift.
And now, in the middle of the thickly filled woods, the sound of birds and leaves shaking in the breeze filling her ears, she could give him complete release. Complete bliss.
Out of the corner of her eye, Laura saw Mike watching with a half-smile on his face, wordless and clothing-less, gorgeous and stately. He sipped from his wine and watched patiently, knowing his turn would come, just as Laura knew hers would, too. Being in a long-term relationship like this—the longest ever for her—meant compromising. Calibrating. Knowing that even if things were out of balance sometimes, in the long run everything would even out.
She took her time, tongue enjoying the exploration of skin she normally skimmed over, his shaft hot and silky at the same time, rigid as a steel rod yet delightfully flexible. Inside her, she knew, it could pump life into her, love infusing her body, release coursing through her like the rush of whitewater rapids provoked by a melting spring thaw. Her own blood began to pulse through her, ripe need gathering at her clit, the soft folds of her labia swelling with heat and want, getting ready for Dylan.
And Mike.
Cupping his balls, Laura found that sweet spot where her finger could apply pressure and—
“Oh, God, that feels incredible,” he rasped.
Victory.
Lubing the shaft with her mouth’s slickness, she pumped slowly, tonguing the cap, the tight tip of her tongue slicking the underside of his cock right where the shaft ended and the ridge began. She’d discovered this technique a few weeks ago and learned to use it when he or Mike were almost ready to come, the rapid flick of tongue combining with her encasing hand and finger pressure an instant path to—
Dylan’s body tightened with such primal force she nearly fell backwards, the coiled strength in his thighs, back, and shoulders like a nuclear reactor of sexual thrust. His hips began to move in bursts toward her, and within seconds he was fucking her mouth, all inhibitions gone.
He’d become a man seeking ultimate ecstasy, and she was along for the ride, mouth and fingers keeping up the rhythm, his hot seed spurting into her mouth as she eased up on the tongue pressure, slowing her wrist movements on his shaft, bringing him down as gently as possible from his climax.
Dylan rested against the deck railing and buried his fingers in her hair as she finally tipped her face up, then swallowed.
He laughed. Mike began a polite clap. “That was quite a performance,” Dylan said as he scooped her up, pressing her into a full-body, vertical hug that—oddly enough—felt more foreign than giving him a blow job outside in the woods. The feel of so much skin against so much skin, outside in the fresh air, and in the daylight—it was a series of incongruities that added up to a shift in her consciousness.
She felt more alive than ever. The taste of Dylan still filled her tongue. She loved it. Loved him. Loved this.
Eyes on Mike even as she hugged Dylan, who slumped against her and whispered a string of dirty thank-yous, she mouthed, Your turn next.
Mike winked. I know. I can wait, he mouthed back.
“I can hear you two,” Dylan announced. “Quit talking behind my back.”
“How can you hear us? We’re mouthing the words!” Laura exclaimed.
“I just can. Call it my superpower.”
Laura gave him a jaunty grin as she pulled back and drank in his beautiful face. “That is not your super power.”
“Oh yeah? Then what is?”
She reached for Mike’s hand, then Dylan’s, pulling them into the cabin. “You’re about to show it to me,” she said.
Mike swept her up into his arms and carried her across the sliding door threshold like a newlywed, making her giggle and squeal.
“Superpowers abound,” he said, setting her gently on the bed.
“Not there,” Dylan said from the kitchen, where he was drinking a glass of water now. Fortifying himself, Laura thought with a grin.
“Where?” Mike asked.
“There,” Laura and Dylan said in unison.
Both were pointing at the Sybian.
“Great minds think alike,” Mike said drolly.
“But first, you!” Laura insisted, at Mike’s side with three steps, hands wrapping around his waist. He eyed the Sybian, then Laura, then shared a look with Dylan she couldn’t quite pinpoint, but which generally meant some mischief was about to unfold.
Good mischief. Sensual mischief.
Orgasmic mischief.
“How about we both get our first orgasm out of the way?” Mike suggested.
“‘Out of the way’? You say that like it’s a root canal,” Laura teased.
“How about we try being direct,” Dylan interrupted. “Laura sits on the Sybian while giving Mike head.”
Stunned silence was Laura’s only answer. Mind-blowingly stunned silence. “You want me to do that?”
Her answer was Dylan’s hungry hands on her, sliding around from behind, cupping her breasts and tweaking her nipples to full attention with one little brushstroke. “We do.”
Mike’s only response was a raised eyebrow, a gesture that echoed inside her and made her bloom with heat.
The tidy little ottoman in the middle of the living room was so unassuming that the average person would never—ever—guess the kink hidden within. And that was precisely the point.
Hide the fun in plain sight.
Hide the source of judgment from those who did not—or willfully chose not to—understand.
Mike pulled the lid off and exposed the wonder underneath, making Laura’s breath slow down just as her heart sped up. Time always changed here in the cabin, unlike anywhere else—even their bedroom at home. Sex was different here. Completely planned and yet utterly spontaneous. Dylan’s hands continued their slow tease from behind, his cock rubbing up against the cleft of her ass, the hair on his chest tickling her back. Mike embraced her from the front, and the heat of his skin, all six-plus feet of him, made her feel complete.
She had them both.
Well—more technically, they had her.
Hands began their well-worn path down the curves of her body, those dry and supple and those wet and wanting.
The Sybian was a simple device, with a dildo attached to a rocking seat. She was more than wet enough as she eased her way down, muscles clamping tight at the slick entrance of something much smaller than either of her men, and yet tantalizing as she felt Mike’s hot flesh in her hand, Dylan’s own hands on her back and breasts now, connecting and adding to the loop the three shared. Like electricity, something flowed between them when they were in touch together, though Mike and Dylan drew a strong boundary at touching one another. Laura had wondered about it but never asked. Sometimes privacy within relationships had a place, and this was one of those times.
No complaints came from anyone, though, for what they did have—so she stopped thinking about what wasn’t there.
A shudder of shock and heat ran through her as she lowered herself and clasped her thighs and knees along the device, Dylan straddling her from behind, on his knees and encircling her. His hand traveled down to find her hot, throbbing nub.
Oh, this would be over fast.
Mike’s cock was thick and ready, and as her mouth enveloped it his thighs tensed. Primed to know his signals as well as she knew Dylan’s or even her own body’s triggers, she figured she had a minute, Maybe less.
Better make it good.
Dylan gently rocked her forward, the Sybian slipping and moving with such grace that she felt a moment of feral self-consciousness, as if the device were too prim and proper for what her ragingly wild arousal was about to make her flesh release. An orgasm swept over her and only sheer force of will kept it back, her brain firing wildly to make sure she remembered Mike’s pleasure, the fullness of him in her warm, wet mouth now too much. The combination of so many sensations on her body and the need to meet his sexual release made her circuits overheat.
