by Brit M.
The bed shifted as Paul leaned over her to kiss Adrian softly. She laid her head on Adrian's thigh, blinking through damp eyelashes as their mouths pressed softly together. Instead of fighting the loss of control, the bodily confusion, the attacking rush of sensation, she tried to relax and let it happen. Marissa noticed Adrian was half-erect, still partially soft but making a definite effort to continue. She wondered if he had the stamina; it surprised her how much sex they'd been having in such little time.
Their hands, and she could tell it was both of them, helped her stretch out and get as comfortable as she could. She caught her breath and dug her toes into the covers, glancing over her shoulder at Paul. He was smiling. The warmth of it seemed to relax some final knot in her muscles. He laid down along her side, his cock damp at the tip and pressing against her hip. She gave him a pleading glance, but in reality, she had given herself over to this. They could make her wait, and she knew it would only be better.
Adrian passed him a condom from the bedside table, Marissa's wrists still loosely held in his free hand, her body between his legs and head pillowed on his thigh. She shifted in his grip and pressed a kiss to the curve of his hip. He shivered. Paul moved over her, thighs spreading hers, his larger body pressed to her back and his hips nestling against her butt. His cock nudged between her legs, sliding in a long glide against the wet length of her slit. She wriggled back, lifting her hips, trying to get him where she wanted him. His hands stroked down her sides and grasped her hips. As he angled their bodies together, the head of his dick slipping against her pussy, she moaned quietly.
The moan descended into a long, voluptuous sigh as he sank inside an inch at a time, deliciously slow. Marissa felt herself tighten around him, shivers running through her and the heat in her belly spreading out in a flash of desire. Paul made a soft noise as his hips met hers, all of his cock buried inside. Adrian massaged her wrists, switching his grip so he had one hand in each again, their fingers laced. It was less restraint now and more connection. Their interlocked hands tied him into the moment and its eroticism.
Paul lifted her hips a bit further, grinding deeper inside, and reached beneath them. His thumb pressed against the swollen, needy length of her clit. She gasped. He stroked the soft pad of his thumb in a circle and pleasure prickled up her spine. It only multiplied and increased as he drew back, his dick sliding out of her to just the tip, and pumped his hips. The slide of him over the most sensitive parts of her, inside and out, made her breath come quicker. He thrust with intent, shallowly, pushing his dick hard against her g-spot and pulling out a bit just to do it again. Waves of sensation rolled from her cunt outwards, pleasure so sharp and intense that she couldn't even make a sound. She could only pant and gasp.
The thumb at her clit kept moving in a determined, never-speeding massage that stoked her ecstasy higher and higher. Paul was panting above her now, his chest damp with sweat against her back. She felt the tension shaking in his thighs as he fought to keep his measured pace, fucking into her at the perfect angle. She could tell he wanted to let go and just slam into her but he didn't. Despite his panting effort, he kept his pace.
“Going to come,” she sighed out.
“Good,” Paul groaned. “Me, too.”
“You're both so fucking beautiful,” Adrian murmured to them, fingers squeezing tight around Marissa's.
She shuddered, a small cry escaping her lips as she struggled to move her hips under Paul's weight and grip. Her body struggled through the wash of pleasure as it crested over her, drawing sharp gasps and shudders as she climaxed. Paul let out a rough yell of his own and slammed deep, bruising and powerful, then did it again. The sudden pounding triggered another hard spasm from Marissa and a short cry as her orgasm continued. Paul came in her with a long groan, grinding their hips together, holding her hard against his body.
“Oh,” she gasped.
He managed to roll off of her as he collapsed, drawing himself out. He lay a panting mess, and she equally so. Adrian eased her hands down and ran his fingers through her hair, then reached out to tweak Paul's cheek. Paul grunted and rolled his eyes. Marissa smiled.
“Would you guys like a drink of water?” Adrian offered.
“Yes,” she whispered, blinking up at him.
He returned a moment later with a bottled water and pressed it to her lips, letting her sip gingerly in her prone position. Her mouth was parched. She moaned out a thank you and he sat it on the end table.
“You know, I want this to help,” he said, eyes on hers. “If I—we—didn't like you as much as we do, we wouldn't be able to go this far. You wouldn't if you didn't trust us, but you do, don't you?”
She nodded. Her emotions seemed to be tied to her body, open and giving. He rubbed the back of her neck, easing tension there, and she relaxed into the grip. He glanced over her at the other man.
“Maybe more than we should,” Paul murmured. “What happened to a weekend of kinky, no-strings sex?”
“It's still kinky,” Adrian replied, his hand joining Paul's. Their fingers laced and rested on her body. “But you're not a no-strings guy, darling. And I have soft spots, too.”
Marissa closed her eyes and wondered if they meant what she thought they meant, but it wasn't the time to think through anything complex. She was too exhausted, wrung-out with pleasure, and a little hungry too. She snuggled in between them, wrapping her free arm around Adrian's waist. Dinner could come later, once she'd had a nap.
* * * *
Later, alone in the shower stall in the bathroom with the door closed, Marissa gingerly washed herself. There were purpling marks, bites, and scratches all over her. She was actually sore, her thighs weak and shaking. She'd never had so much sex in her life. In fact, she was pretty sure she'd fucked Adrian and Paul more than both of her old boyfriends combined in one weekend, and that was compared to two years of relationships. Still, it was a good ache, even more so because she knew it would stay behind once they were gone, for a few days at least. The weekend was almost over. Checkout was at twelve the next day, and that was it. She blinked hard, rinsed herself off, and denied that her face was wet from tears. It was just the water.
The small bathroom was quiet. Outside, she heard the sound of the men moving around and getting ready for sleep. The dinner they'd had at the hotel restaurant had been full of laughter and warm comfort. It was exactly what she'd needed after the intense, sexual, boundary-shaking afternoon. Even thinking about the sight of Adrian's face as he was spanked, as he left go of all of his iron control, made her tremble. It was so erotic, just the memory could spread a weak heat over her body. She wasn't ready for more, though—she was done. There was only so much a body could take.
Dry and wrapped in a towel, she stepped out into the bedroom. The lamp at the bedside was on. It cast a dim glow through the otherwise dark room. Adrian was already cuddled up with the pillows, blinking lazily at her with a smile. Paul was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his thighs and a book in his hand. He looked up.
“Ready for bed?” he asked.
“Maybe,” she murmured.
“Come on in,” Adrian replied.
He lifted the sheets invitingly. Paul put his book down on the bedside table and swung his legs up onto the bed. Marissa climbed in between them, nude. Their bodies pressed to hers. Paul switched off the light. In the darkness of the bedroom, naked skin against naked skin, Marissa couldn't hold in the quiet sniffling breaths that snuck out with her tears. Hands of two sizes held her close, breath ruffled her hair, lips touched her neck and shoulder. The men said nothing, comforting her instead with their touch.
It was a long night, and none of them slept well.
Chapter Ten
The sun was too bright. Marissa squinted around the hotel room to make sure she'd missed no clothes or possessions. It seemed strangely bare without their clothes in disarray on the floor. Paul and Adrian had lugged their shared suitcase to the anteroom and were murmuring quietly. She heard their voices b
ut not the words. An inane urge to steal the sheet from the bed, or a towel they'd used to dry after their last bath, or something at all struck her. She wanted a memento. They'd taken no pictures. Paul and Adrian had paid, so there wouldn't even be a receipt to treasure.
She swallowed, darted a glance at the door to the other room, and moved quietly over to the bed. She chose something smaller than a sheet: a pillowcase, pulled off the pillow, bundled up and stuck in her suitcase. She zipped it up, feeling ridiculous and a little guilty, but at least she would have something to remember them by once the bow-legged soreness in her inner thighs and the bite marks healed.
After heaving out a sigh and blinking hard to clear the sudden dampness at the corners of her eyes, she hefted the handle of her suitcase. A quick scrub of her hand over her face and she was ready. Five steps carried her into the anteroom, where Adrian was leaning into Paul and muttering at him with a level of intensity that seemed odd. She paused in the doorway and they glanced at her. Adrian's cheeks were hectic red, his lower lip caught in between his teeth.
“Would you like to—” Paul started, his voice a bit unsteady.
“Dinner? At our house?” Adrian blurted.
Paul closed his eyes and leaned his head back, a gesture that seemed to Marissa a bit like praying for patience. Adrian fidgeted. They seemed so off-balance that it threw her off also and silence settled between them.
“Oh, I mean,” Adrian continued. “You don't have to, it's all right.”
“No, no,” she said, startled. “I'd love to.”
“This is awkward,” Paul said.
He marched over to her and laid his hand over hers on her suitcase handle. His fingers were damp with nervous sweat, the only thing revealing his discomfort. She glanced down at their hands and up into his eyes. There were tiny crow's feet at the corners, puckered with his tense expression. Her mouth was slightly open as she searched for words.
“I don't want this to be over yet,” he said. “Neither does Adrian. I don't want to say goodbye in a hotel at noon.”
“God,” she whispered. Her weight seemed to shift without her consent and she leaned into his chest. “Me neither. I want to come. If you're sure.”
“I'm not sure about anything,” he said. His hands moved to pull her into a hug.
“Sorry,” Adrian muttered. “I was nervous, okay?”
Marissa looked around Paul's side and smiled at him. “I got to see you nervous. I'm okay with that. I thought you were totally unflappable and in control.”
Adrian huffed comically. Her smile widened.
“Would you like to follow us to our house? I can give you directions, so if you lose us you can still find the way,” Paul said.
“Okay,” she replied.
They stepped apart and she made sure to cross the room and draw the other man into a similarly soft embrace, burying her face against his throat and inhaling his musky but lavender-tinged scent.
“You still smell like that bath soap,” she murmured, then glanced up at him.
His blinking was a bit too rapid to be anything but fighting off some emotion. She let him go and grabbed her suitcase. Paul tore off the sheet from the top of the hotel stationary sheet, on which he'd written directions, and handed it to her. She tucked it away in her back pocket.
“Shall we?” Adrian said.
There was gravity to the request that had been missing, though hinted at, all weekend. Marissa had to take a deep breath before she managed to say, “Of course.”
This dance was new to her. As they made their way to the elevators in peaceable quiet she struggled to figure out what steps came next in the waltz of companionship. Something had shifted if they weren't ready to part yet, if they wanted her to come to their home. But it could have been simple sentimentality, wanting to prolong the weekend and get the most out of it. Or maybe, like her, they couldn't bear the thought of letting go.
In the lobby, she kissed them both on their cheeks as they meandered toward the counter to check out. She had to stand on tiptoe for Paul. Walking out the door while they settled up the room, staying behind, was like crawling through taffy. She dragged her feet, glancing over her shoulder every few moments to catch another glimpse. She would have felt worse if they weren't both doing the same thing. Their eyes tracked her as she struggled to leave. Finally, the sliding doors shut behind her and she stood under the sunlight, blinking hard and trying to remember where she'd put her car on Friday evening.
It was a little ridiculous how much her chest ached, as if a fist was squeezing her ribcage. She was going to their house, to spend more time with them, andbeing apart for the length of a car ride wasn't so important. It was just difficult to convince herself of that. After heaving her suitcase into her trunk, she climbed into the driver's seat and rested her head on the wheel. Halfheartedly she pulled out her cell phone and turned it back on.
There were five messages. She winced.
One was from Lita—the other four, her grandmother. With a fortifying gulp of air, she pressed the “voice mail” button and put the phone to her ear to listen. Lita's message was first, from Friday, and all she did was wish Marissa luck and adventure, then ask for gory details later. It made Marissa smile. She wasn't sure she wanted to tell too much about the weekend. It was too personal, too perfect.
The next message wiped the smile off of her face.
“Your cousin cannot be right about what he saw you doing,” came her grandmother's voice, tight with anger. “Call me. I want to talk about this fit of yours.”
The next three went downhill in invective and anger, more incensed by her lack of response than anything. As if she owed an explanation, an apology, then a swift promise to dress in a drab grey apron and never see a man in private again. She snapped her phone closed and jammed it back into her pocket.
For once, she was angry, too. She loved her grandmother, was eternally grateful to her, but honestly, she was an adult, and this made her happy. This was who she was. Like Adrian, like Paul. If they could embrace their own needs and publicly be proud of them, so could she. That was all there was to it. She blew out a breath and started the car. At least the weekend wasn't over. She could put off what she would say to her Gran until later and enjoy another few hours of happiness with her—lovers.
The drive to their house was scenic, through a lovely suburb outside of the city proper. It would be at least thirty minutes from the university campus. She tried to cancel out thoughts of how she could visit and when because that hadn't been put on the table. She had no idea what to expect now, and it wasn't up to her. It was their relationship, their partnership she was nudging in on. They had to say it first. They had to ask. She couldn't, and she knew that.
It worried her a little that she knew she would say yes to another date right away.
Their car was already in the drive, the front door open with a glass outer door closed against the outside. It gave her a glimpse of their living room. The open door was inviting. The outside of the house was dark red brick interspersed with dark grey bricks at odd intervals to create a pretty pattern. It was a ranch-style, large in comparison to her apartment though the same size as its neighbors on a small but well-kept lot. She was impressed and a bit daunted. It would take her another ten years of working and saving for her to get a house like that.
Marissa turned her car off and stepped out, tucking her hands nervously in her pockets as she walked across the yard and up the three steps to the porch and the front door. She knocked on the metal edge of the glass outer door. Almost immediately, Paul appeared and opened it, ushering her in. She glanced around the living room. Warm, dark brown leather furniture was arranged in a semi-circle around a TV and entertainment center. Paul must have been perched on the armchair closest to the door.
“Adrian's fixing some lunch,” he said. “We were pretty hungry, so we figured you would be too.”
“Absolutely,” she said.
Paul laid his arm over her shoulders, cuddling her close t
o his body, and walked her through the wide archway to the kitchen. Adrian was wielding a spatula at a pan with a determined look on his face. The smell of cooking meat was heavy and delicious in the air. He glanced over his shoulder at them and smiled.
“Hamburgers acceptable? It was all I could thaw out on quick notice.”
“That's just fine,” Marissa said.
She took the chair that Paul pulled out for her and settled at their four-seater table. He sat across from her, lacing his fingers together on the tabletop. It was a homey scene, Adrian cooking and Paul sitting with her at the table. That didn't make it any easier for Marissa to relax. Tomorrow was Monday. Back to work, away from this.
“I don't know what to say,” she admitted.
The other man cocked his head and gave her a searching look. “About?”
“Damn,” she said with a laugh. “I don't even know. I just—this. Being with you guys. It's so…comfortable. I've never been this comfortable. It makes me nervous. I mean, I can't stay. It's temporary. We're probably treading on unsteady ground by doing this.” She gestured expansively at the house.
“It's harder to let go than I thought it would be,” Paul admitted.
Adrian came over and put a plate of hamburgers in between them on the table. His expression was more solemn now, less playful. “Nobody was counting on how intense everything got. I was really expecting the woman who answered our ad to be somebody from the BDSM community who was used to this kind of thing. I'm glad we got you instead.”
“Thanks, I think,” she said.
He half smiled and swept away to gather up buns and condiments. Paul and Marissa sat, thoughtfully quiet, until he returned and set the table. She was glad to know she wasn't the only one feeling so off balance, but it worried her that she'd obviously affected them. What if their relationship didn't work the right way anymore?
“I hope I haven't made problems for you,” she murmured.
