Page 77 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

I feel alive. Electric. Noah doesn't break the kiss except to pull his shirt off. He undresses, and while I'm still tied to the spreader bar, he enters me slowly, still caressing my tongue with his. He pumps, shallowly at first, and I squirm. My full body high has dissipated and now all I want is an orgasm. As if he knows just where my brain went, his fingers come down and in circles, rubs my clit. Gentle at first, so slippery from all the sex and fluid, but he finds the friction and I cry out with every pass.

"You're entitled to your privacy, Lucy. You don't have to tell us every time someone hurts your feelings or makes you upset. We want to know, but we won't pressure you. But today was different. I don't want to see you like that again. You nearly passed out when you got home. I was so worried."

"I'm sorry," I croak. "I'm not used to sharing my stress."

"I know, baby. I forgive you."

"I won't do it again," I swear.

"Yes, you will. And it's okay. I love you anyway."

He keeps fucking me while we stare into each other's eyes, and when the pleasure builds higher, his fingers work faster, and then it's there, set off like a firecracker, bright and intense, consuming and tracing every nerve pathway in my body. Starting at my clit, the orgasm explodes out of me and I can't contain my scream. He doesn't relent the pace, and after his own body pulls taut and he grunts and comes inside me, he quickly pulls out, then furiously works my clit, never relenting.

It starts again, this strange feeling, and urge to release, almost like I need to pee. But the pleasure is too big, too full. He keeps his fingers flat and keeps rubbing, faster, stopping only once to slap my clit, then rubs again, up and down, side to side, and though I never stopped coming, it erupts out of me. I squirt all over myself and him, crying and coming, shaking, my body and brain emptying of every single thought.

We fall into a panting, sweaty silence. I think I laugh. I think I'm crying, too.

Noah releases the restraints, and I barely noticed how uncomfortable the position was until I'm able to stretch out again and I moan with a new kind of pleasure. Noah disappears into the bathroom, but I call out, "Shower."

The tub turns off, and I hear the sounds of the shower take its place. "You sure?" He asks when he returns to the bedroom,and effortlessly picks me up, carrying me bridal style into the bathroom.

"I think hot and cold water would be good."

He nods in understanding, helping me into the shower, where he meticulously washes my body and my hair. When he's done, I tug the hair tie out of his, which often sits in a knot at the nape of his neck, and run my fingers through the strands. He lets me wash his hair in exchange, and it feels so relaxing, taking care of each other. I ask him to run the water cold before we get out and it helps wake me up out of the drunken post sex stupor.

I think the cold water helps with the tenderness where Mateo slapped me with the riding crop, too. When we climb out of the shower, Noah insists on rubbing muscle oil into my legs and hips, which will help with bruising. I like the bruising, but I don't argue.

On his hands and knees, with tremendous care, he massages my aches away and I can't help but think:this man. Noah. He's mine. He's… extraordinary. I reach down, and grip the back of his neck, and he looks up, his hazel eyes hitting mine. Crouching down to meet him eye to eye, I kiss him lightly, and lean in to kiss his neck, then whisper in his ear, "I love you too."

He smiles against me, and it's almost better that we carry on the way we were. A little interlude with reverent declarations, weaving seamlessly into our lives.

We find Mateo and Silas in the kitchen making dinner a few minutes later.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Silas asks, a look of concern on his face, in complete juxtaposition with the creature who dominated me in the bedroom.

"I'm amazing."

"We weren't too hard on you?"

"Not even a little. I know my safe word. It didn't hurt… well, it did, but it felt good. It's hard to explain."

"And you don't need to." He kisses me again and returns to the sink.

Mateo wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug, swaying back and forth until we're nearly dancing. Mateo doesn't dance, but here in our kitchen, after what they just put my body through, is the right time to start.

"How are you feeling about what happened earlier?"

"Which part?"

"All that shit she said about you online."

I tense for a second, but find the worry falling away like water off a duck, and relax back into him, hugging him tighter. "I'm angry about it. But less upset. I don't know what the aftermath will be, but I'll deal with it."

"We'lldeal with it," Noah corrects me.

With Mateo still hugging me close, we stop swaying in place and I pull back a little to see Noah and Silas plating what looks like pasta and red sauce with garlic bread.

A month ago, I'd have counted every calorie on that plate.

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