I sighed back into her pussy, letting her taste coat my lips and slide into my mouth. She was sweet and salty and interesting. Behind me, his breathing slowed and a hand caressed my ass.
“Green?” His voice was like velvet.
“Green.”
He pressed back inside, filling me in one swift move, and I was right back in the big, fucking trouble from before. The connection with him was too great, too powerful to hold back much longer. Things began to blur as pleasure spilled over. Pleasure from listening to his groans of satisfaction and his quiet comment about how unbelievable it felt. Pleasure from the woman in front of me who I was giving this intimate kiss to, going where no other woman had. She’d chosen me for this.
His hard dick hit exactly where I wanted it to each and every time, and my whole body trembled. It screamed for release.
“God, Logan, please . . .” I said with every thrust he made. “Please . . . Please . . .”
“I want us all to do it together.”
I pulled my mouth away so I could look at her stunning eyes. Was that even possible? She nodded. “Put your fingers in me while you’re fucking me with that mouth.”
I slipped my middle finger into her wet heat that was unbelievably soft, and my tongue wandered in the area above, coaxing the orgasm closer. It brought my orgasm closer, too. Every plunge of my finger into her was mirrored between my legs. Building, and building . . . threatening an avalanche of bliss.
My index finger joined in so I filled her with two fingers now, shoving them deep inside and curled them back, searching for the spot guaranteed to send me into a frenzy, hoping it was the same for her.
“I’m going to come,” she exclaimed, shocked. “I’m coming!”
“Evie,” Logan cried. Before he’d finished my name, I reached the apex of my orgasm. The explosion inside me, as our mutual orgasm tore through my body, rocked my foundation. He clamped his hands down as he came, clenching my hips tight against him so my insides milked him dry. The orgasm was so intense it forced tears in my eyes, but I blinked them back.
His sweat-coated arms were tight as a vise around me, holding me to him as his lips trailed a line across my back, up to the edge of my shoulder. Payton sat up, leaned forward, and cradled my face in her hands. Her kiss was gentle and tender, like the desire in her had finally been sated.
I couldn’t stand any more and a half-second before my legs gave out, he released me and urged me forward to collapse on the bed. I shifted and rolled onto my back, my head landing on his pillow. Did we snuggle as a threesome afterward? He moved to curl up beside me, and we both looked at her, sitting on the edge of the bed, unsure.
She flashed a sexy, half-smile. Oh, right. Payton didn’t snuggle. She’d kick guys out of her bed if they tried. She loved sex, but feared intimacy with men. She climbed to her feet and began snatching her clothes off the floor, dropping them in a clump at our feet on the bed while she pulled her panties on.
“I hate to fuck and run,” she said, hooking the bra closed, “but that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“Payton,” I started.
“I hope you liked it as much as I did.” She stepped one foot and then the other into her jeans and shimmied them on.
“I did.” My voice was quiet, but only from exhaustion and not embarrassment.
Her top was put in place and she came to us, leaning over him to kiss me goodbye. It was quick, light, friendly and not sexual. She straightened and cast her gaze on Logan. “Happy birthday.”
He took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
When she was gone, he turned onto his side and kissed me, one that tasted like love and not sex. It was quiet for a moment, and I began to pull at the thread of worry about what kind of impact this was going to have on . . . well, everything.
“I can’t wait to see what you get me next year.” He dragged me into his arms and squeezed me, and I put the worry away for later.
We went to a movie with Logan’s friends on Sunday afternoon, and Payton tagged along. Because we were in a group, the initial awkwardness for me was easy to disguise. Logan, ever the actor, seemed unfazed. When the movie was over and the group migrated several blocks down to a restaurant, she pulled me aside.
“Hey,” she said, “what we did was amazing. I don’t regret it. Do you?”
“No.”
“Good. Don’t read anything into it, but that was a one-time thing for me. What you and Logan have . . .” Her eyes glanced at him and then returned to me. “It’s great.”
“It is great.”
We’d had a long talk and reached that same conclusion. We’d done it once— an experience we shared together, but I didn’t want to share him again. And Logan had admitted he’d felt pressure to perform, and constant fear I would change my mind and he’d hurt me.
I’d been right. Nothing could come between Logan and me in the bedroom. There, we were rock solid. I didn’t consider another aspect of our relationship could be a problem, but I was naïve.