It was a wonderful suggestion. Because of how we met, we still needed to get to know each other better, and our dates make that possible. The times when we all come together are amazing, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world, but I also cherish alone time with my men.
Xavier keeps his eyes on mine as we move together. My tattooed not-so-bad boy is a deeply romantic lover, quiet but passionate. I never doubt that I’m his sole focus during our encounters, whether the other men are around or not.
“Xave,” I pant, and he knows I’m close, because I only call him that when I’m about to come.
“What do you need, love?”
“Harder.” The plea escapes on a gasping breath. He flexes his hips, driving inside me, and my neck arches, tilting my head back as my climax bears down on me.
“Yes – yes – oh fuck!” My nails dig into his shoulders as I shudder through my orgasm, clamping hard around his cock. He holds still until I relax back onto the mattress, and then he says, “Again.”
I moan as he starts to move, speeding up quickly, and before long, another climax wracks my body. This time Xavier follows me over the edge, pouring himself out inside me.
I hold him close as the afterglow slowly fades. “I love you, Xavier.”
He kisses me gently. “I love you, Olivia.”
The bedroom is at the back of the house, with its windows looking out toward the beach. We leave the windows cracked when we’re home, to let the ocean breeze circulate. As Xavier and I cuddle, the sound of a door opening below lets us know that someone’s home, and a few moments later James pokes his head in.
“Morning. I’ve got coffee and donuts.”
“I hope you got me a cinnamon roll,” I say, as Xavier and I slowly disengage.
“They were out of cinnamon rolls, but I got you a maple bar.”
I narrow my eyes and wait. Caleb loves maple bars; I do not. One thing I’ve learned about James is that he loves to tease, but he can’t keep a straight face for long, at least not with me.
Sure enough, only a few seconds pass before he smirks, then grins. “I got you a cinnamon roll, and a bear claw, and an almond croissant.” All my favorites.
“I’m not pregnant, you know,” I tease him back, as I pull on a robe. We all want kids, eventually, but we’re not in a rush.
He gives me a half-shrug, still smiling. “I wasn’t sure which one you’d be in the mood for. It’s not like we can’t polish off anything you don’t eat.”
“Thank you,” I say, and cross to him, lifting my face.
He keeps the kiss light, but as he lifts his head, his hands glide down to cup my ass. “Shower now, or later?” he asks.
“Quick cleanup now, shower later. I’m starving.”
“Okay. Wash your back?”
I grin at him. “You know I always appreciate a hand in the shower.”
“It’s a date, then.” He gives my ass a friendly pat as down payment.
James keeps us all laughing with his jokes ... and keeps us all steady with his easygoing flexibility. He excels at looking past the moment to the long-term goal, and figuring out what’s important in light of that. Like Samuel, he works remotely most of the time, but occasionally has to travel for his job.
And in the past year, he’s gotten really good at horseback riding.
I head to the bathroom, then out to the kitchen, just as Caleb and Samuel arrive.
“What were you two up to?” I ask.
Samuel gives me his beautiful smile; I never get tired of seeing it. He’s not shy anymore, at least not when it’s just the five of us. He has the splendid, quiet confidence of a man who’s exactly where he wants to be in life.
“We’re taking you out to dinner,” he says.
“Oh?” We’ve been having most of our meals at home, in the beach house we bought, because the island is awash in tourists, same as every summer. I’m not entirely enthused about eating in a packed, noisy restaurant, but Samuel’s expression holds a barely-repressed excitement that makes me curious. “Where are we eating?”
It’s Caleb who answers, his own smile more than a little smug. “We got a private room at the Beachcomber.”
“You’re kidding.” The Beachcomber is the best restaurant on Four Points, and it gets booked weeks ahead of time during high season. “How on earth did you manage that?”
He just grins. “That would be telling.”
“Well, for that you get a maple bar.” I pull one out of the box and hand it to him, and then locate Samuel’s favorite, a chocolate-glazed old fashioned. They’re perfectly capable of getting their own donuts, of course; we just like doing little things for each other.
Following her nose, Penny trots into the kitchen, probably hoping to find donut crumbs on the floor. “Maybe we’ll have bacon for breakfast tomorrow, girl,” I tell her, patting her head.