Page 47 of Our Elliana

My mattress is an Alaskan King, but as large as it is, locating spots for everyone that’ll offer me access to all of my men resembles an intricate game of either Twister or Tetris.

Despite our less-than-happy interaction a few hours ago, Tristan appears to consider this a personal challenge as he orders us about. I allow it without complaint. I feel like I owe him this courtesy after biting his head off without provocation.

Also, maybe it’s his chef background, but when Tristan is given free rein, he galvanizes us like a military commander.

“Elle, crawl up the middle. Noah, you take the left while I take the right. Jackson, lay there below Elle at the foot of the bed.”

We comply, but I have something else for our resident musician to do.

“Will you play for us? Something relaxing?”

As if he’d been waiting for me to ask, Jackson starts a lovely tune, one with a sedate and soporific quality to it. I snuggle up between the other two men, relishing how secure it feels to have each of them so solidly against me as I close my eyes. It’s a cozy fit but not too crowded, and soon, I find myself drifting right off.

I stir a couple hours later with the guys asleep around me. This is the first time I’ve ever experienced sharing my downtime with these men, as well as with more than one man at once, and now I’m wondering why I fended them off for so long.

Deep down, I know it’s because I wasn’t ready, that I wanted to keep them at an arm’s length both literally and figuratively, but that time has passed. I can’t imagine going to bed in any other fashion from now on.

This feels so right.

I like that Noah is dozing at my front and that Tristan—one hand tucked around my left breast under my rather boring nightshirt—is behind me. Jackson must’ve set his guitar in one corner because I can see it over there, leaning in such a way that it won’t teeter over.

At some point after I slid into a doze, he must’ve clambered up onto me because his head is currently lying on my stomach. I shift a little to flip over on my spine. This makes Jackson yawn, and opening his eyes in the moonlit darkness, he levers himself up on one elbow.

Tristan moans and moves his hips in an arc against my ass, and I feel his erection stiffening as he rubs himself along the cradle of my body. Turning to peek at his face, I see that he’s still out like a light despite how he’s stroking his thumb back and forth over my nipple.

I don’t mind.

Remaining unconscious, Noah twists onto his back which broadcasts the fact that his cock is as erect as a fireman’s pole there in his pajama pants.

Jackson grins at me, and these three flavors of testosterone do a number on my libido. I don’t know if it’s having them all so near while adorably drowsy or what, but my panties have gone from dry to downright sopping. I need some relief, and Jackson’s always more than up to the task.

“Can you take off my panties and fuck me without disturbing the others?” I mouth at him, my pelvis now aching at the visual of that gorgeous long-haired, tattooed man already between my thighs.

He casts me that devilish smirk as he deftly glides off the foot of the bed and hastily doffs his clothing, then eases my underwear off.

“I can sure as hell try.”

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