Page 76 of Vegas Daddies

Reaching the bathroom, I discard what’s left of the lingerie and crank the faucet. Boiling hot water falls down from a square shower head. It’s a large space. More than big enough to accommodate four people.

“Are you coming?” I call.

Several pairs of footsteps bang up the stairs.

Then three black-leather figures slip in. Start removing their clothes.

Panels of sculpted torso emerge. All three of them sport impressive six-packs.

Compared to them, Levi is nothing.

And Rachel was wrong. A week has passed and I’mnotbedridden in my pajamas, snotting into tissues, binge-watchingFriends.Showering with three bikers is quite the opposite. Levi has seldom frequented my mind since they entered my life, and when hedoes,I’m not dwelling on the good times. I’m thanking God and all his angels above for sending me that message the night of the Bachelorette. It set me free.

If I was married to Levi, the female orgasm would continue being a fantasy—I wouldn’t know any different. I’d be bulk-buying E.L. James’ books from Amazon and reading them in secret to live vicariously through very lucky female protagonists.

If Levi and I were still together, I’d still be in denial about the G-spot’s existence.

Still think that it’s normal for a guy not to go down on you.

To not worship the ground on which you walk.

All of their dicks spring out of their pants. Hard. I step further into the shower and run my hands through my hair, accentuating the body I know all three of them are desperate to touch.

One moan is all it takes before they’re hopping in after me and their hands are roaming everywhere. One could call it invasive having three men showering with you, because three is a crowd—Rachel would think so, probably—but to me it’s the biggesttreat. The least I deserve for being captured by Russians for most of the day.

“All things considered,” Lifesaver says, “you were fucking sexy up there today.”

“You were, darling.” Brander slips a finger between my folds and massages. “I didn’t know you could move like that.”

“Neither did I.” I start to snort but the sudden clit-press turns it into a moan.

Slapping my hand against the cool tiled wall, I relax into all three of their touches and shut my eyes. Monogamy’s biggest downside is that a person only has two hands. Fingers can only be in so many places at once.

Three bodies means triple the pleasure.

That’s six hands.

Match squeezes my breasts, flicking my nipples to turn them even harder, and Brander squats down between my legs to observe my pussy from below deck. One hand wraps around my thigh. The other strokes my clit. Lifesaver, pressing me harder against the tiles, inserts two of his fingers inside. He uses his spare hand to slap my ass at any given opportunity, avoiding the tattoo that’s still healing.

“How are you feeling, princess?” Match asks.

“Like I want…all of you inside of me at once.”

“Here? In the shower?” Lifesaver says.

“Uh-huh.”

Damn. Who knew cold tiled walls could be such a turn-on?

Lifesaver presses me harder against the wall, and warm sensations tingle down my spine. The two practiced fingers pumping in and out of me get faster. Already, I feel my walls start to contort. My grip on the boys’ shoulders starts to weaken.

It’s too much. Their three, hot, writhing bodies. The wet skin-on-skin. Lifesaver’s hooked fingers thrusting deep inside. The clit-nipple stimulation from Brander and Match.

I squeeze my eyes shut. It feels like I’m fighting the fucking laws of physics. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“What do you want then, darling?” Brander asks.

Lifesaver’s fingers exit my pussy. All hands disappear.

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