Page 149 of Piece Us Together

It’s got nothing on how I feel when he slides out of Nolan, takes my aching and soaked cock in his hand, and guides me to take his place inside our boyfriend. I shout, heat zinging through me lightning fast.

I manage a choked, “Please,” as Nolan is pushed down far enough for my cock to bottom out inside him.

Hunter looks over Nolan’s shoulder at me, his eyes glazed with lust and pride. I start to shiver, feeling my resolve breaking apart, feeling my orgasm barreling forward whether I want it to or not.

I whisper, “Oh, no, Hunter—”

He reaches around Nolan, wrapping his hand loosely around my throat, and says, “Go ahead, Maison. You’re forgiven.”

I come.

With their hands on me, stroking, gentle, warm, and Nolan clenched around my cock, and a tsunami of emotion in my chest, and tears trickling down my cheeks, and lips on my throat, and lips on my ear, and whispered words likelove youandgood boyandboth so perfectandlove you two so muchandthat’s itandlet it outandyou did so good, Maisandwe’re so proud of you, kittenandit’s okay, you’re okay, we’ve got you,I feel nothing but safe, so safe, so fucking safe, and forgiven, he saidI’m forgiven, everything is okay now, I was good, I was good for them, I can breathe again, there’s so much relief, and I’m free.

I’m finally fucking free.

There's this soft layer around the world. It's warm. Good. Golden. If I had the energy, I swear I could lift my hand and feel it. A barrier, a protection, keeping the weight of the world from being able to get to me.

I notice things slowly, beneath the layer. I'm somewhere comfortable, somewhere soft like the layer itself. The thing beneath me is cool and dry against my heated skin. Something warmer, something damp, is being brushed against my thigh. There's a weight on my head, moving back and forth with a gentle scrape against my scalp. It feels good. I want to say so, but my mouth feels wrong, upside down or something, not working when I try to move it. That's alright. Words are stupid anyway.Who needs words under this soft, sweet, perfect layer?

Someone outside the layer is using words. They're muffled. Low and soothing, even without making any sense. They're nice to listen to, like background music, like when my mom would hum while she baked.

The warm, damp thing moves over me. I shiver when the air touches the wet places it leaves behind. I don't like that as much. I want it to stop moving. It's making me cold.

Something rumbles against my shoulder. The hand on my head pauses. There are more words on the outside. I think one of them ispouting.I wonder who is pouting. I wonder why. I wonder if they're cold too. If they're being tormented by a mean warm damp thing that leaves goosebumps in its wake.

That rumble is back. Then something soft, even softer than the layer I'm under, comes up to cover me. That's warm. That's very nice and soft and warm.

I think there are more words, but who cares about those when everything is back to being perfect?

Except… there's something not perfect about this. Something is missing. I have to fight to care about that, fight to think about what it could be as the happy haze tries to take over again.

Not something missing.

Two somethings.

Oh.

I blink my eyes open. It's hard to do. They're impossibly heavy, like Keats injected me with his special painkillers and I only have a few seconds before reality slips away. Except, this is in reverse, reality growing stronger with every blink, every inhale.

I see Nolan first. Well, I see his messy hair. He has his head resting just above my belly button, over the blanket that's been pulled up to my chest. I want to touch him, to run my hand over his bare back or ruffle his hair, but I feel… stuck. It's odd, actually, the weightlessness and heaviness I feel in unison. I feel like I'm floating but pinned in place. It's a safe feeling. A freeing one.

“Coming back to us, kitten?”

It takes effort to tilt my chin and look in the direction of the warm, pleased voice. It comes from the same direction - the sameperson- as the rumbling had earlier.Hunter.

I sigh. It's a happy, sated, lovesick sort of thing that ends in an almost painfully large grin and an emptiness in my chest I haven't felt in a decade. “Hi.”

Hunter chuckles. “Hello. We lost you for a bit there, huh?”

“Been right here the whole time,” I mumble, rolling my eyes because he's ridiculous if he thinks I could possibly have moved recently when he and Nolan have fucked the energy right out of me. I might not move ever again. They might need to just forward my mail to Hunter Meridian's bed.

“You're right, you have,” he agrees. He sounds amused. I'm too tired to figure out what's amusing. “Can you take a drink for me?”

I frown as a straw is suddenly placed against my lips. There's an instinct in me to grumble or push it away or tell him no. I can't possibly understand why such a ridiculous instinct would be there. I'm thirsty as fuck, and having him take care of me is like the warm fuzzy soft layer but as a person.

“Woah,” I say instead of drinking.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Woah?”

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