“You’re so swollen, so hot and tight around my cock, Caz,” Lincoln says. “Our bodies were made to come together like this.”
I would respond, but his cock is hitting a spot inside me that’s making it impossible for me to do anything but whimper. I’ve come so many times tonight already, but after only a minute of him pumping into me, another orgasm comes barreling in.
I take a deep breath and manage a few words. “Keep fucking me, just like that!”
Lincoln doesn’t break his rhythm as he speaks, though his voice is starting to grow ragged. “We’re not fucking you, Caz. We’re making love.”
The distinct smell of coffee awakens me the next morning. Exhausted, we all fell asleep right on the living room floor sometime in the early hours of the day. Now I’m alone, wrapped in a nest of blankets.
I stretch and take my time getting up. My body is tender in a few places, and feels like it’s been thoroughly “made love to.” It’s bliss.
Eventually I stand, wrapping one of the thinner blankets around me, and wander into the kitchen where Barrett’s getting mugs out of the dishwasher. “Good morning,” I say, suddenly feeling shy.
The smile he gives me provides more warmth than the sun. He hasn’t shaved yet, his hair is adorably messy, and he’s wearing those sexy gray sweatpants. I can’t imagine a better sight to start my day. “Good morning,” he replies.
“Where is everybody?”
He glances toward the second story. “Linc and Lenn are showering. Bronson went out to forage for bakery.”
“Mmmm, that’s my kind of foraging.” There’s a big window in the kitchen, and the view tells me that it’s a beautiful day outside. It’s Sunday, and I’m glad I don’t have to work until later. I’m looking forward to spending a leisurely morning with the Stone brothers. And maybe more lovemaking.
When I pull out a stool at the counter, I notice a familiar book on the seat next to mine. “Who’s reading this?” I ask, holding it up to show Barrett the vivid blue cover featuring a large spaceship.
He steps closer to get a better look. “That’s Lincoln’s. I’m reading a book in the same series, but he’s farther along.”
“You guys read science fiction?”
“Yeah.” He hesitates for a moment, and then adds, “Your dad got us started on them, remember? And we loved your stories. Do you still write?”
I shake my head quickly. “I was just a kid when I wrote those. I’m sure they were terrible.”
“They definitely were not. I still think of them often when I’m reading other books. Do you remember that one where people’s skin turned colors depending on their mood or thoughts? I used to think of that when we were in the army and imagine how much trouble we’d be in if our superiors could tell what we were thinking.”
I smile as he laughs at the memory. I can’t believe he remembers my stories, when I barely recall them. I wonder if any of them are in the boxes Rachel gave me. I used to like to write them in notebooks rather than on the computer.
“They were seriously good stories, Caz,” Barrett says. “I’ll bet you could get them published.”
I give him a doubtful look. “I’m sure they weren’t as good as you’re remembering, but thanks.”
Footfalls on the stairs alert us to someone’s approach. It turns out to be both Lennox and Lincoln, who each greet me with kisses and warm caresses. They’re fully dressed in casual leisure clothes, so I slide off the chair after I’ve said good morning to them. “Can I get a shower?” I ask.
“Sure,” Lennox says. After I collect my clothes, he shows me to a bathroom on the first floor and brings me a bath towel and washcloth. “There’s shower gel and shampoo in there,” he says. “Would you like one of my shirts, rather than putting yours back on?”
I look skeptically at his broad shoulders. “Sure, but I’ll be swimming in it.”
He grins. “You’ll look so sexy, I’ll be tempted to get you dirty again.” To illustrate his point, he pushes me against the bathroom’s door frame and runs his hand up my body, parting the blanket and finding my breast as his mouth claims mine in a kiss.
When he presses his hips into me and I feel his growing hardness, I’m tempted to invite him into the shower with me, but he pulls away. “I’d better let you get ready. I’ll leave a shirt on the counter for you.”
I kiss him one last time, reluctant to pull away.
“You should bring some clothes to leave over here, so you’ll have them,” he says, his face brightening. “Actually, Caz, you should move in with us.”
23
Happiness
I grasp for the blanket as it starts to fall. “What?”
“Move in with us,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ve already talked about it. When the four of us were thinking about how much space we need in a new house, we talked about how we hoped you’d live there with us.”