Page 47 of A Fool's Game
I can feel my tip hit the back of her mouth, feel it touch the top of her throat, and I look down to catch her gaze. She’s insanely beautiful and ravaged, mouth hanging open helplessly as my thick cock fills her.
I’m going too deep. He’s pushing her too hard. I open my mouth to tell him to stop but instead I come, hard and fast, the pleasure like lightning taking my body in an electric storm.
Gem’s eyes are glossy and bright, locked on mine as she watches me empty into her mouth, my spasms driving myself impossibly further in a way I couldn’t prevent if I tried. As the pleasure passes through me, I hear myself scream but it sounds like someone else. I can no longer feel the weight of my body on the soft mattress, as if I’m hovering inches above it.
My senses snap back online the second my orgasm passes, and I reach up to bat Taylor’s hand out of her hair, taking my own grip and pulling her head off my cock. Gem coughs and sputters a bit but she's smiling so I smile, too.
“Fuck, that was insane,” I say and she nods.
For a moment, it’s just our little world. Gem and I locked in a gaze that’s still taking my breath away.
I should have known better than to think it was over, though.
Taylor reaches down and around her, capturing both of her hands and placing them on my chest. She lets her head dangle right above mine as she rests at least half of her weight on my ribcage, her hair creating a little cave where I look at her and she looks at me.
And Taylor fucks her.
He was being rough before, but he’s gone off the rails now. He holds her in place by the hips to counter his thrusts, but her body still shifts forward and back in a heaving motion with his assault. I reach up to hold her breasts as they swing, her pointed nipples twisting between my fingers as she bites her lip and moans.
“I’m going to come,” she whispers, just for me, and then she does, her face twisting spectacularly as her back arches.
Taylor reacts to her spasming pussy by coming himself with a massive roar.
I can’t help but watch him, his own lip clasped so tightly between his teeth that he might actually draw blood. His broad, muscular chest flexes as he grips her hips harder and pours himself into her.
When I catch Gem’s gaze again, she’s transformed. Her eyes sparkle with wetness and magic, cheeks flushed from her orgasm and all the heavy breathing. I reach up to brush her hair out of her face, tucking it behind each of her ears.
Taylor’s still behind her, sitting down on his heels now, keeping her hips close, and his dick buried.It feels like an eternity that we rest that way. The three of us locked together in a veil of breath and sweat and hormones.
Finally, Taylor pulls out and climbs off the bed,crossing the dim room to the open bathroom door. Gem curls to her side as I roll to face her. She wraps her arms and legs around me, trapping me in a cage of limbs I’d happily live in for eternity.
Taylor’s shadowy figure returns, and I see him clean her up from behind without trying to move her. Then he lays down and takes the place of her big spoon.
I curl closer to Gem’s front, inhaling the sweet smell of her shampoo, trying to lose myself in her. But Taylor holds her just as tightly, my arms pinned between her back and his chest.
And I want to hate it.
I want to pull away, to get some distance.
But I don’t.
Chapter 17
Taylor
Ilay awake for what feels like hours, listening to the two of them breathe, before sliding out as quietly as I can and collecting my shorts.I’m sure no one can hear me, but I still take care to avoid the squeaky spots on the narrow staircase up to the attic room that I’m finally starting to think of as my own.
Neither Gem nor I were completely sold on the idea of moving in together, and getting an apartment this close to the school would have been impossible anyway. I was staying over most work nights after our first year together to avoid my two-hour commute from Bainbridge Island, and we were both feeling confined from the loss of personal space.
I know Gem needs her own room, her own quiet place to retreat, and I’m the same way. Even if we could have convinced the other girls to let me move in, that small bedroom, already cramped with Gem’s every worldly belonging, would have been the end of us. Luckily, the twins stepped in and offered me the cat room.
Whatever cat the small, low ceiling, A-frameroom was named for was long gone by the time Gem and I dragged brooms and Windex up the tall staircase to clean out years’ worth of dust and cobwebs. I scored a twin size futon, and she relocated a large, round hat box from somewhere else in the house to serve as a table for my phone and water glass.
Over the last two years, it’s gained some personality. I have a few pictures of Gem and me, of my family, of the view from the ferry ride on a sunny, foggy day. Gem installed a wire wrapped crystal hanging over the head of the futon to help me with grounding, inspiration, and good luck, of all things.
It’s a far cry from where I imagined myself five years ago, at the height of my ambition, when my own restaurant downtown was so close, I could almost claw my way to its heart with my tired, bandaged fingers.Walking away from that opportunity was like leaving a pile of money in a burning room to save an injured child across the hall.
But maybe money’s a bad example.
