“Actually, I’ve found this great new way to work out. It’s totallynotvanilla exercise. And hang on. I think I’m about to do one of those high-intensity interval trainings. Give me a second.”
I cry out my release. I come all over Tank’s face, my body’s shaking. I have no idea what John’s thinking, and I don’t care. I drop my head back into the crook of my arm. I’m sated.
“You know what, John? It turns out there’s nothing vanilla about me. You were the one that wasn’t enough.”
I lift my hand out of Tank’s hair and tap the end call button.
Epilogue
Sasha
Ijustdroppedthekids off for a visit with Izzy and her brood, which is a nice thing about the crazy night of the first Christmas Cherry Auction. Seven years ago, for the five of us ladies who ended up with reverse harems, a special, magical thing happened.
We’ve been each other’s support system ever since, with wonderful role models to look up to from Eggplant Canyon, since those ladies were doing their thing, getting all their needs met, not just their pleasure, before we even held the auction.
The guys and I decided to keep Grandma’s house, and with the kids gone, it’s a rare moment that we have it to ourselves, on Christmas Eve no less.
I know something’s up because the guys asked me to drop the kids off, instead of insisting on doing it for me. And they asked me to stop by Sugar D’s Bakery to pick up donuts, with a special request of the Long Johns with the delicious cream inside.
I would swear that they’re perverts, insisting on calling ÉclairsLong Johnsand being way too emphatic about them being filled with cream. It’s probably a guy joke referencing the time they all filled me with cream while I was on the phone with John.
Not my proudest moment.
But it was right up there, which means that I don’t have any room to judge my guys for pervy jokes. They’re my perverts, and I can’t wait to be alone with them.
So when I walk inside and none of them are anywhere to be seen, the anticipation continues.
“Hey, guys, anyone home?” I call out. The silence of the house is such a stark contrast to the laughter that’s usually coming from our three little ones and the three dads instigating most of the laughter.
Then I hear, “You’re present is on the stairs.” Tank peeks out of the bedroom door closest to the top of the stairs.
“Should I put the donuts in the kitchen first?”
“Yeah. We’ll get to theLong Johnslater.”
I roll my eyes.
“Am I going to need my energy later?” I laugh as I head to the kitchen, set the donuts down, then return to the stairwell.
Tank’s standing outside of the room when I return, dragging his bangs back as he rakes his fingers through his hair. In only his underwear, the display of tattoos and contoured muscles never gets old. That suffices as a gift any day.
“It’s been a while since we got toplay.” Tank watches as I survey the empty stairs.
Excitement bubbles through me. I love a gift as much as the next person, but I have a feeling the present he referred to won’t be wrapped in a box.
“He means adult play.” Winger appears from somewhere behind me and he’s dressed as scantily as Tank, both sporting erections.
Wasting no time taking on my role, I taunt them and start up the stairs.
“I hope so, we’ve gotten kind of vanilla.” The term ‘vanilla’, and its insinuations, no longer have any impact on me.
Winger holds back for a second at the base of the stairs and Tank patiently watches me climb.
I’m halfway up when he grins mischievously and I realize they’re trapping me. Adrenaline spikes in a way that it hasn’t for quite a while.
It’s been a few months since we had the house to ourselves and all of the little ones were gone. But that time was out of sheer exhaustion so the guys and I could sleep after a stomach flu wore us all out.
I’m glad I set the donuts down because they’d end up ruined if I’m right about what’s about to happen.