Page 60 of Our Sadie

Sure, I’ve made countless women come, but with Sadie, it’s more. It’s like every time we manage to bring her to climax, we’re exorcising some of the demons tormenting her. I’ve been with clients who were a chore or who made me do things I wouldn’t have consented to if I hadn’t been so desperate for the cash.

But with Sadie, I don’t know. I like taking care of her. And I like how her eyes look when I quit tonguing her clit and let my fingers take over...

It’s like we’re linked on some extra level I’ve never reached with anyone else. It’s a good thing since I want her to choose me, to choose all three of us. Yet I won’t know if that’s how she feels until the tail end of February.

If I can last away from Paisley until then.

TWENTY: Bonus

SADIE

I’m laying between Jerome and Dom the subsequent Monday morning with nothing but a sheet over me, stunned by how comfortable I am doing this. Was it mere weeks since I felt so much anxiety over these mens’ reaction to me, to my body, to my scars?

It feels like so much longer.

I delight in watching Zach padding back in with wet hair from his shower already having changed into a pair of sweatpants. I’ve grown accustomed to being naked while they’re not. To witnessing the bulges of their erections without actually having any of them inside me. Lately, it’s become this bizarre type of dynamic with us.

Likely because for this whole week, they’ve been making my pleasure a priority while ignoring theirs. It’s like they’re playing chicken with one another to see who can go without the longest. I can’t say it bothers me when I’m the lucky recipient of all that mind-numbing ecstasy.

Not that I want to think about the underlying reason why.

I’m luxuriating in the softness of these high thread count sheets and how they feel against my bare flesh when I hear all three guys’ phones chime. Only as they’re each retrieving them from various pockets and nightstands do I remember why.

“You gave me a bonus?” Zach asks, flashing his screen toward me.

“Gave them to all of us sounds like,” Jerome’s tone is a question that Dom answers with that uptilt of his chin.

I try to look gracious. It’s now New Year’s Eve, and I’d scheduled these a month ago, optimistically thinking it’d be able to deal with the Christmas holidays better this year.

Shame rolls through my system at my utter failure to do so. Clearly, I overestimated my ability to cope.

“I did.”

“Thank you.” Zach perches at the corner of the bed.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dom adds his with Jerome bringing up the rear.

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