I was floating then, each individual movement unable to be detected anymore, but the symphony of sensation they created had me completely and utterly captivated. Time felt like it stood still, because there was only pleasure now.
“Have we broken Riley? She’s just making these little kitten noises.”
“She’s feeling good.” That was said with a kind of reverent shock. “All the pain and frustration…”
I rolled over when I came back to myself, conscious I was sprawled now like some kind of starfish, and when I did, I took in my current state. Ryan and Colt had each ended up massaging a foot. When I looked up, Blake was looking down at me, so it’d been his fingers that had been massaging my head, and Fen? He was still straddling my hips, having worked on my back. Haze was, of course, still watching the damn movie. They stared down at me, and I stared up at them, blinking.
“That was amazing,” I croaked out. “I feel” —I lifted my arm, and it fell limply to the ground— “so good. But why would you all jump in to do that? A four-person massage? That’s not something beta dudes would do.”
“That’s nothing,” Fen said with a cocky smirk. “Wait until we get the massage oils out.”
Colt rolled his eyes at his brother, but answered my question. “We feel your pleasure like it’s our own Riley. Making you feel relaxed makes us feel relaxed. Just like…” His words trailed away as his eyes slid over my body, making me aware of how else I was responding to them.
Because that was a thing men often didn’t realise—when a woman was truly at ease, most of the time she’ll be much more responsive to anything else on his mind. Our sex drives were choked by worries, responsibilities, and pressures of life grinding us down, which was why the stereotype of a woman thinking about her shopping list while having sex existed. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to be present and experience the throes of ecstasy with someone we cared about. It was that we found it hard to surrender to that while all this menial shit buzzed around insistently in our heads.
Surrender…
My eyes scanned the lot of them, taking in the way they watched me so damn closely, waiting for just that.
“Mm…you smell creamy,” Haze said, rolling closer to me and burying his face in my hair. “You gonna let me come into your dreams tonight? I’ve got some ideas I’d like—”
“Sleep with me,” Colt said abruptly, his mouth thinning down when he realised how intense he sounded. “I know it’s not my turn, but…” He stared at me, and I found myself moving to go to him, patting Fen’s thighs to get him off me. When I came to kneel before Colt, he reached out and straightened the sleeves of my T-shirt. “You wore my shirt.”
And this was why I could never throw it away. It was airy, comfortable, the shirt I wore when I just wanted to relax, but it was also his. It’d been hot one summer night, and Mum had refused to allow us to turn the air con on, so he’d stripped down to just his shorts, leaving the T-shirt on my floor and forgetting it when he left. I’d collected it up afterwards, burying my face in the folds of fabric to smell him.
“It’s my favourite,” I said with a nonchalant shrug.
He grabbed me then, pulling me up and depositing me on his lap, my legs straddling his hips.
“You’ve got a whole lot of T-shirts, and you wore this one.” He smoothed his hands over my ribs. “You’ve worn it a lot. Over and over, you’ve worn my clothes.”
“You…like that?” I asked.
“Yeah, I like that,” he replied. “I like it so fucking much, I’d like to break into your house, toss out all your other T-shirts, and replace them with mine.”
I snorted at that, then saw that he wasn’t totally joking. I slid a hand through his hair, just feeling those silky strands passing through my fingers.
“OK then, take me to bed, Colt.”
I let out a little yip when he stood us up, but I needn’t have worried, as he carried me easily through the lounge room.
“Say goodnight, Riley,” he instructed.
“Goodnight, Riley,” I sang out as we swept out of the room.
I was carriedinto a darkened room, and he didn’t bother putting the light on, just flicking on a lamp before laying me on the bed. My muscles felt all long and loose, right up until the point he pulled his T-shirt off. I rolled up on my elbows, seeing the boy that he’d been and the man who was here right now, and something clenched hard inside my chest. I studied him, glorying in the ability to just do that.
Bringing me here was perfect, I realised, because they’d taken away everything else, all of the audiences of work or the pub, and removed me from the trappings of my life. Which allowed me to admit this—Colt was fucking beautiful, all nut brown skin, lighter brown hair, and those eyes that wouldn’t look away from me for a second. I didn’t look away from him, either. I couldn’t, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to again after this weekend.
“Fuck…” he hissed. “The way you look at me.”
“You can’t blame me,” I said. I’d had a few drinks over pizza, so my tongue was looser than it could’ve been. “Like…”
I rolled up and off the bed, coming to stand before him. Our size difference was so much more apparent now, with him towering over me. He was big, broad, though not quite as big as the others, and there was an elegance to his body as a result, but for all that, he waited so still to see what I’d do.
“I used to sneak little looks at you like this,” I said, tracing one finger along the sharp line of his pec. Every single one of his muscles were clearly defined, popping out as my finger moved. “My hands itched with the need to touch you, all the while knowing I couldn’t.”
“I wish you fucking had,” he said in a low, hoarse voice, covering my hand with his and moving it so it lay over his heart. “I ached for you too.”