Page 96 of The Doctor's Truth

47

Kenzi

We go back to their place. Between frantic bouts of kisses and touches, the three of us shed our clothes all the way from the living room into the bathroom, leaving little piles like Hansel and Gretel.

In the shower, sand and salt water roll off me. The hot water brings my limbs back to life. My fingers throb as they move from freezing cold to burning hot, sensation tingling through them.

And through me. Jason’s lips on my shoulders. Donovan’s hands on my hips. Cleansing me. Resurrecting me.

We towel off, but we’re still dripping wet when we stumble into the bedroom.

It’s strange—even though we spent the whole night together, I feel like I haven’t seen them in so long. We wear different masks with other people around; in front of Mr. and Mrs. King, the three of us had to be conservative, judicious. Here, in the privacy of our own home, we can love openly. Want openly. Crave each other openly, fully, desperately.

A version of myself that has spent all night caged up inside of me has finally been released.

Jason lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around him as he carries me to bed. He kisses me, and I can taste the abandon on his lips. After tonight’s excitement, he’s a lighter man. Brighter. There’s nothing holding him back.

Donovan comes behind him and kisses Jason’s shoulder. Jason twists his head to catch Donovan’s lips in his own. The sight of them kissing always making my heart flip. But there’s something…different about them tonight. They’re easier with each other. More relaxed. I don’t know what shifted, but I do know it’s a good look on them. I feel a fluttering between my legs just watching them.

“I want it,” Jason murmurs, so quietly I almost don’t hear him.

“You want what?” Donovan pries, encouraging.

Jason wets his lips briefly, nervously. “Uh…you. Inside of me.”

Donovan glances at me. “Do you mind if I borrow your boyfriend?”

He’s being coy. I play into it. I trickle my nails up the nape of Jason’s neck—the way I know he likes it—and I feel him shudder lightly under my touch. “Only if I get to watch,” I reply.

“Even better—you get to help. Pass me a condom and lube. Pretty please.”

I dig both items out of the bedside drawer—a condom and a small, clear bottle. When I hold it up, Donovan nods and opens his palm for me to drop them in.

Jason lies down on the bed, still as a cadaver. He’s quiet. Unnaturally quiet for talkative Jason. Is he nervous? I remember my first time suddenly—how I let Jason take the lead. How Donovan sat beside me, holding me, reassuring me. How safe I felt with my two best friends there with me.

And now it’s my turn to be the rock.

I flop down and snuggle up next to Jason. “Nervous?” I ask him.

He chuckles lightly. “A little.”

“Do you think I’m incapable of being gentle?”

“Yeah. Kinda.”

I slip my fingers through Jason’s hair. “How does this feel?”

He closes his eyes into my touch and hums contentedly. “Good.”

I allow myself a minute to admire Jason’s body—the linebacker’s chest. His skin looks honey-colored under the dim light of the bedside lamp. I trace the black dove ink across his chest and then trickle my fingers down his toned abdomen.

“I’m going to start with my fingers,” Donovan says. “It might be cold at first.” He drizzles lube into his palm, snaps the cap back on, and then his hand slips between Jason’s legs. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Jason responds. Donovan’s eyes lock on Jason, watching his face, and the muscles of Donovan’s arm flex as he inserts a finger in the other man.

Jason’s eyes shut, and his eyebrows knit. His jaw clenches a little.

I nuzzle against his neck and nibble his earlobe. “Relax,” I whisper to him. “Breathe.”

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