Page 19 of Four on the Floor: A Menage Romance

I’m still shirtless on the floor, hard as a rock, and I don’t even have the book I was reading. I flop backwards onto the plush rug and stare at the ceiling, flickering orange in the firelight.

Damn.

Chapter Eight

Larkin

What the hellwere you thinking?

I practically sprint out of the lounge where Dalton is still shirtless on the rug in front of the fireplace and into the dark, cool hallway. There’s no sign of the guy who walked in on us — I’m assuming it’s Slate, who I have somehowstillnot met, he must be a vampire or something — but that’s fine with me because I just want to get back to my room and deadbolt my door against any further sexy impulses.

Because oh myLordthat was good. If Slate hadn’t come in I definitely wouldn’t have stopped, because I was just about ready to rip Dalton’s pajama pants off and beg him to take me, right there on the floor.

He feels even better than he looks, and he looksgood. I’m still wet as hell, aching with every hurried step back to my room, and I’m already missing the feel of his weight on top of me, his body against mine.

His huge hardness pressed into me. Just thinking about it makes me bite my lip as I unlock my room and shut the door behind me, sliding the deadboltandthe chain — more as a defense against me going back out there than anything else.

He’s at least the size of the ridiculously huge dildo that I’ve been putting to good use for the last week. Maybe bigger, and even though the thought ofthatis a little nerve-wracking, it’s also kinda hot.

Okay, it’s very hot. Really, really hot.

I flop onto my bed and exhale, the side table light still on. I tossThe Hobbitonto it, though I’m not exactly in the mood to read about wizards and dragons right now. Before I know it my hand is underneath my pajama shorts, and I’m rubbing my clit furiously, desperate for release, slippery with my own juices.

I close my eyes and I’m back in front of the fire, Dalton on top of me, both of us naked as he hoists one leg over his shoulder and then plunges deep into me as I cry out. He takes me fast and hard, filling me so completely that I can barely think.

I jam a pillow against my mouth as I come, because I’m moaning and I can’t make myself stop. I come hard and fast, my whole body trembling with the force. When I finish, I’m out of breath, and I take the pillow off my face and then lie there, on my enormous plush bed, and look at the ceiling.

“Don’t,” I tell myself out loud. “That’s what the dildo is for.Behave yourself.”

I don’t need to make the rest of my time here weird. I’m pretty sure that now it’s going to be weird with Dalton, not tomentionSlate who I still haven’t even introduced myself to.

And how am I not supposed to be awkward with Cash and Gavin? Every time I see them I’m just going to thinkoops, I almost banged your bandmate, and that’s going to make it weird.

Just keep it together, Larkin.

Two and a half more months.

Keep it together.

* * *

I manageto mostly avoid the guys for about another week. It’s not completely successful, of course. Cash still drops by my makeshift studio sometimes to see what I’m working on and chat. Gavin starts making me tea every day, and I wind up hanging out with him on the overstuffed leather chairs in the main lobby, chatting as we sip.

And Dalton, thank God, isn’t weird at all. He somehow manages to act exactly the same as he did before our midnight rendezvous, teasing me over breakfast and also being his usual, sweet self.

I continue wearing out my vibratorandthe dildo nightly, at least. Usually the fantasies revolve around Dalton, but let’s just say that I’m considerably braver in my fantasy life than I am in my real life.

It’s just a fantasy. Why stop at one?

Why not both Dalton and Cash, in the hot tub? Why not Cash and Gavin in front of the fireplace? Why not Dalton and Gavin out in the hot springs, me bouncing on Dalton’s thick cock while Gavin sucks on my nipples?

Even Slate, with his dark hair and light eyes, makes it into a few fantasies. I only saw him for a split second, but he’s just as hot as the rest of his bandmates — tall and confident, built in that way that suggests he’s used to hard work, not just weightlifting. I replay the little smirk he gave us when he caught us making out by the fire a thousand times in my head, because there’s just something so wildly sexy about it.

There’s something about the way he wasn’t upset or grossed out, just… amused, maybe?

In any case, in my fantasies he bends me over a table in the breakfast nook and fucks me hard while I come again and again. He never needs to know. It’s just a fantasy, after all.

* * *

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