“You had me at nap,” I replied. “I was up at some ridiculous hour due to excitement that Bren was coming over.”
“Were you, baby?” Bren ambled over, taking me in his arms and depositing a kiss on my nose. “Were you excited to see me?”
“Always, dammit. My activewear has been a total mess.”
“Mm…I know. I could smell you when I was helping you with your archery form. Drove me fucking nuts. So you gonna come and sleep with our boy? I’ll show you all my stabby tricks between then and tonight.”
“And shopping. We’re gonna need something fancier than jeans and a T-shirt for Chrysanthème.”
“Fuuuck….”
I stood in the blinding white bathroom of the hotel room, naked, a T-shirt in my hands. Bren had leant me one of his to sleep in, and I brought it up to my nose. I smelled that woody scent, my hand shaking, feeling my slick start to flow. My body was on board, so on board with the idea of jumping into bed with them, even if it hadn’t got the message about sleep. I pulled the soft cotton over my head, the voluminous folds only barely grazing my skin, enhancing the feeling of nakedness rather than taking it away. I looked down at my underwear, discarded and stepped away from it, then opened the door.
They’d stripped down to just their boxers or a pair of shorts, which didn’t help anything, my feet lighter, quicker as I walked closer. Rhys had encouraged me to take, and that was all I felt right now—a burning need to do just that.
Boundaries, I reminded myself. Boundaries.
But when they saw me, they looked me over with a possessive eye, Bren especially.
“I like this,” he said, meeting me halfway, tracing the neckline of the shirt. “Maybe I’ll have you wear my clothes more often.”
“And scent mark the fuck out of Cyn, proclaiming her as yours. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Rhys said in a fake growl. He held his hand out to me, helping me onto the bed, but the both of them stilled when I did.
“What?”
“You’re needing,” Rhys said gently, deliberately soft, only a touch of a rasp in his voice. He brushed his hand down the side of my arm and then pulled it back. “Bren can ease you.”
“It’s OK, it’s just being around you both again. I’m tired, you’re tired and—Ulp!”
I was pulled down between them, their bodies rolled towards mine.
“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Rhys said, oh so persuasively. “Can be just a helping hand.”
“A helping hand for my vagina. Why didn’t I get one of those before?” Ferocious growls at that. “Settle down there, boys, I was just joking.”
“I’ll get you off quick, Cyn,” Bren said, nuzzling into my neck, the ticklish sensation making me squirm in more ways than one. “It’ll help you sleep.” He made it sound like a handshake or something, but when I opened my eyes, Rhys was watching every moment with hungry eyes.
“I can go, if that’s what the issue is,” he said quickly.
“No, it’s more… So what, you’re gonna play with my clit until I come? What’s to stop more naked fun from happening?”
“You don’t want that,” Rhys said in a definite tone. “When you do, we’ll be at your door, ready to beat it down to get to you, but that’s not what this is.” He smiled slowly. “You’re wet for us. I never thought that’d happen again. But we all need some rest, so let Bren help you and I’ll watch.”
“You want to watch me come?” I wriggled on the bed in earnest now, but why, I wasn’t sure.
“More than anything.”
Rhys leaned forward, placing a kiss on my forehead, closing my eyes with his hand, then hooked my leg up and over his thigh. The hand returned, shielding my eyes, taking the visual stimulus away, so everything else felt really intense. The bare sensation under the shirt was enhanced as the cool air met my slick folds, the tension in my thigh feeling like it pushed my clit up and out, ready to be touched.
“Yes or no, Cyn,” Bren said.
Silence ticked by as the need rose up inside me, pushing until I finally said, “Yes.”
Just two fingers, that was how it started, tracking up my thigh, tracing the skin there until the one not on Rhys widened. I opened myself to him in a way that felt like a culmination of the last few days, and just like then, Bren proved worthy of that trust. Not stringing things out or turning this into a big thing, instead, it was gentle and sweet.
Until it wasn’t.
He didn’t finesse things, sliding his fingers through my wetness, kissing away my gasp before plunging them in. Once upon a time, that would have been a disaster, but he seemed to know. It’d been too long since anyone or anything had touched me, and I needed it—the stretch, the burn, that abrasive thrust that turned my spine to jelly and set my nerves on fire. His thumb grazed my clit now with every push as he brutally wound me tighter. There was something awful and wonderful about such a truncated, perfunctory thing. I craved it, him, the fucking surety of my orgasm as it built, the speed with which it came, his mouth on my neck, breathing in my scent.