Page 16 of Four Times Forever

"But what if they do?" He lowered his voice, glancing behind him at Ryan.

"They won't. Now can we please not talk about this?" I tugged his face toward me and brought my lips closer to his. He obliged me with a kiss, lacking passion, and I deepened it until he yielded, gripping my hair in the process. I reached for his cock again. He paused me.

"What are you running from?" he asked.

"What?" I stuttered.

"I want you. I know you want me. But this desperation, that look in your eyes just then... you don't believe her, do you?" He asked, brows going up into his fringe.

"Of course not." I scoffed. "She's just in shock. Okay? And yes, I'll admit it. My mother waking up and accusing you guys, Ryan's outburst, the fact that she called me a whore and was still defending Terry..." I sighed. "I just want to forget about it all, and my pussy is throbbing, and you guys all do such a great job of making me feel good. Please. Don't stop." I reached for his hand and put it between my legs. "Don't you feel how badly I need you? We could all do with some sexual healing, don't you think?"

The glaze left his eyes and they went dark as his hand made contact. I gasped as his fingers went deep, and he fell into me, kissing my breath away and finally letting his pants fall. He pumped me with his fingers, all three of them, stretching me for him, and I rode it with the desperate need to hear nothing but our breaths in tandem, think nothing, only feel.

On my knees, my hand in his hair, I climaxed around his fingers, before pushing him backward and filling my mouth with him until my ears were plugged from the blood rush and the taste of him. I took him deep into my throat until it was hard to breathe, and I lost myself into the white escape of pure ecstasy.

I couldn't see anything when he popped my head off him, got behind me, and filled me to the hilt. I cried out, waking Ryan up, who was already rearing and ready to go as if he had been pulled out of the dream of fucking me and into the reality.

Immediately, he came up on his knees and plunged his hard cock into my mouth, the saltiness of him stroking my tongue. He gripped my hair and fucked me hard while Ethan took care with my pussy, and I could never have asked for better medicine as I became nothing but a ball of erotic sensations, flashing through me like lightning, pulsing through me like the heartbeat I needed to stay alive. Unable to swallow right, unable to breathe, I tightened around Ethan's cock, cumming not once but so many fucking times around him, until finally, they both filled me with their delicious loads.

Chapter 12

Lily

In the garden, facing the lake, I brought my paintbrush to the canvas. An instrumental played through my headphones as I attempted concentration. But the gentle music did nothing to decrease the tension. For the first time in my life, I had all this freedom and all this time, and yet I'd never been more uninspired.

The lake wasn't soft and tranquil, but a black hole instead. I should have been happy, but I was so lost. I didn't know who I was anymore. I'd cut ties with my mother because she was still standing by him, and my relationship with my men wasn't all rainbows and happy colors.

The muscles holding my heart up were strained, and I couldn't breathe because I was still fighting against my mother's voice. That's the curse of having parents who should have been there for you but weren't. I read a quote once about how "adult children who blame their lack of success on their parents don't have a right to" or something. The author of the quote didn't respect those types of adult children. To some extent, I agreed. As adults, we're responsible for our own decisions, but who was I to blame for this emptiness inside me, this lack of identity?

I'd spent my whole life trying to be anything other than them and reminding myself that I was more like them every single day. Who was to be blamed for that? I'd sacrificed a lot to take care of my mother for five years, and what had she sacrificed for me? She hadn't stayed with Terry for me and my brother. She'd stayed because she couldn't let go. Who was I to blame for her voice in my head? How could I control it?

Now that she was gone, I should have felt free. Free to focus on the people around me who loved me. But I was still restrained by the guilt that I should have chosen her because she needed me. She was vulnerable. Even with a nurse, she needed someone who understood her, who wouldn't give up on her. But I had.

Absent-mindedly, I brought the brush coated with black paint back and forth across the canvas. I needed to start giving attention to my relationship. My men needed me, and I needed them. Ryan was falling apart in there, and I didn't know what was wrong. I'd left him and Ethan asleep, hoping they could watch out for one another, because my mind was bombarded. My next therapy session was so far away.

My lungs became too large for my chest. I brought shades of gray to the canvas and, like a mad woman, I painted the sky. It wasn't gray in real life, but the clouds in my life were.

Marriage.

What a terrible idea. For now, at least. Ryan wasn't ready to marry anyone.

Hell, I didn't think I was either.

Again, my mother's words were loud and mocking. I had been so excited about the idea. It had brought color to the fog. I guess that was done. If I didn't know who I was and doubted my men because my parents' voices were the most familiar voices in my head, what kind of wife would I be? I couldn't even be there for them when they needed me. This wasn't a fairytale.

This was real life, and I was dead weight in this union.

And what about Ryan? If I was being honest, he was beginning to scare me. If we all got married to each other, would everything change? Ryan's actions could be a precursor for what was to come. As much as I couldn't imagine it, I wondered if Terry was anything like Ryan before he knocked my mother up and got her tied to him forever. Before he married her and knew she couldn't leave him as easily.

I didn't want to see Ryan like that, but how could I not? The others could be better at hiding it.

No, I wouldn't let my mind go there, because if it did, I was in danger. I was helpless against him. Against them. I loved them, and I knew that even if they became Terry Thornbread, I'd probably be Petal Thornbread in return. And that was worse than any nightmare I'd ever had, even after being bashed over the head.

There was still time for us, time Marco and I didn't have because we were both toxic, blind to each other's red flags. But I saw it now, and I could stop it. Giving up on my painting, I pulled out my phone and called that therapist.

"Hey, I know we're not scheduled until next week, but I was wondering if there's any space for men in the Women's Shelter," I asked. "One of my men, I'm afraid he's heading down a rocky path and he needs help."

"Oh, I don't know. It's not that we wouldn't love to help, but we can't risk triggering our temporary residents. How bad is he?" my therapist asked.

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