Page 96 of Our Elliana

The second that first pitch careens toward the catcher’s mitt, he thwacks it so hard that it hurtles past the fence outlining the field, vanishing into a grove of trees.

I bounce to my feet and cheer, “Grand slam!” as Jackson whoops and Tristan whistles.

With Noah’s run added to the two before him, they’re up five to one which makes the firefighters victorious. There’s a lot of ribbing and nonsense as they fist-bump their adversaries in blue, but this is all well-intentioned.

Since they’re playing for a list of children’s charities including St. Jude’s and the March of Dimes, there was never any real animosity behind their competition in the first place. After we collect our real-life hero—honestly, I consider all three of my men my own personal heroes—we aim for home.

There, we celebrate again, only this time isn’t meant for any eyes but our own.

After shedding every stitch of our clothes, we gather in the master bedroom where my guys have already strewn red rose petals. It’s kind of become our thing. We’ve discussed our next steps for tonight beforehand and are now moving ahead with our plan.

Jackson has been working my back entrance millimeter by millimeter toward taking the entirety of his cock, and tonight is the big night as he uses lube, his own precum, and his fingers to prepare me. He lays supine on the mattress, his leaky shaft showing its eagerness for what’s to come.

With Noah and Tristan bracketing each of my arms, they assist me in getting into position. Ever so gradually, I hover over Jackson’s lap, the pucker of my ass incrementally taking him in.

He feels enormous, and it takes Noah and Tristan bearing most of my weight so I can relax. Only then am I able to become fully seated on top of my musician, his front to my back as we lay face up in the middle of my bed.

Now, the middle of our bed.

“Fucking Christ, you’re so tight, sweet thing. You make it so hard to not blow my load.”

I know he won’t lose it early, however. Jackson seems to have infinite endurance and patience when it comes to our time together.

He feels so wonderful inside me, and for a few seconds, he intertwines his arms around my torso, stroking along my stomach and ribs before twisting my head enough to kiss me from behind. He tweaks and pinches my nipples for endless minutes, and even without him lavishing attention on my clit, I can feel myself growing wetter and wetter.

Particularly when Tristan positions himself between the V of our open thighs.

With purposeful hands, he situates my legs—knees bent like Jackson’s—until they’re suspended on the outside of my musician’s. I adore how long Tristan is, and it proves especially useful as he inserts himself into my pussy, gliding in until he reaches the furthest depths of me, his fullness combining with Jackson’s so intensely that I cry out.

“Oh, fuck. Sweet baby Jesus and fuck.”

“Elle?” Noah’s concerned features appear above mine. “Is this too much?”

“No, honeybunny. I’m almost Goldilocks.” One eyebrow ascends in his puzzlement, and I nearly snort at him. I don’t, though. Instead, I push his bangs back. “Once you join us, everything will be just right.”

My youthful firefighter grins, pinkness settling over his cheeks and neck. I used to wonder if he’d always be embarrassed by the things we all do together, but I no longer worry about that. His ever-present flush is less about embarrassment and more due to him anticipating pleasure these days.

Tristan is tilting toward me, his hands on Jackson’s knees as his hips meet mine. Now, the final piece. Lowering his head over my navel, Noah weaves himself past the tangle of arms and legs the rest of us are snarled in. Even still, he pauses for just a second, causing Tristan to step in.

“You got this, kid. Kiss her right where I showed you last time.” Tristan even moves two fingers to the top of my folds spreading me like the petals of a flower so that my pearl piercing is evident to all four of us. “Tongue it like you do her belly button and nipple piercings.”

And then, in Noah’s first ever foray into oral gratification, he drops his mouth over my clit.

I feel the warm moisture of his tongue as he licks me, clamping his soft lips around my tenderest flesh and against the unforgiving surface of that white pearl. As his licks and kisses become sucks and nibbles, Jackson and Tristan move in and out of me.

They build up to a simultaneous rhythm that has my musician fucking my ass while my chef hits the G spot deep within my core. With Noah accompanying them as they coordinate their motions nearly flawlessly, my first orgasm lands on me like a fucking atom bomb.

“Oh, oh Jesus... Oh, oh my God. Oh sweet baby, oh...”

I’m not even making sense as the waves of euphoria radiate through my body, my three men making it ridiculously easy for me to climax. Jackson is biting the shell of my ear, his guitar-string roughened fingertips buzzing over each nipple as he cups my breasts and thrusts.

Tristan is thrusting right along with him, thumb skittering along my toes as the other plays with my knee pit—a recent discovery as an erogenous zone for me. Noah worships my clit and folds with his mouth, his close proximity to where Tristan and I are joined a turn-on for him. I know this, and so do the others, because Noah confided in us yet again.

This has caused some of my mens’ casual glancing touches to evolve into lying right against one another while sleeping or hanging out on the lounger. I don’t know if this will ever evolve into me meandering in someday to see one of my guys fucking the other, but if it does, I’ll just find it sexy as hell.

When you’re in a loving relationship as a foursome that welcomes any and all combinations, everything’s good.

In truth, it’s far better than good.

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