Page 35 of Vegas Daddies

Good question.

But also a question I cannot answer.

All three reached spots inside of me I never knew existed.

They’re all talented too. There’s Lifesaver. Let’s start with him. He was the most talented, circling his hips in motions that stimulated several different triggers inside of me, all with one thrust—I suspect that has something to do with his PhD in medicine and his therefore complex understanding of female anatomy.

Brander is the girthiest. And he put most of his soul into it. So much that at one point it felt like the length of his dick was wrapping around my spirit and holding it close.

Match was the one who found my G-spot the quickest. Today, I keep seeing visions of his silver hair flopped over his face. During the deed, all I wanted to do was run my hands through his curls, but the other two had me pinned down.

“They’re all good.”

“Come on.” Tammy rolls her eyes. “They’re not here to get offended.” She sips peach iced tea through a straw and returns her attention to me. “There has to be one.”

“There’s actually not. Gosh”—I recline in my seat—“I’ve never felt this…liberated before. How have I lived twenty-two years of my life without experiencing an orgasm?”

We earn ourselves a strange glare from the elderly couple sitting at the next table.

Rachel doesn’t break out in giddy squeals like Tammy. “But this is how rebounds are supposed to make you feel. They’re short-term. Honey,” she says, a look of pity drooping her bottom lip. “I hope I’m wrong, but come next week you’ll be over it and spooning the full-fat ice cream on the couch watchingFriends.”

My eyes wander up to the ceiling. How do I tell them that this isn’t a rebound? That I’m promised to three crazy hot outlaw bikers from this day until my last?

“Yeah.” I push the iced latte away and look into Rachel’s eyes. She’s the one who’s gonna need the most convincing. “About that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“You’re pregnant?!” Tammy bursts out, eyes wider than a fucking owl’s.

“Jesus.” I wince at the thought. “No. Absolutely not. They kinda…left their mark on me.”

“Fucking hell.” Tammy sits back from the table and rolls her eyes. “I always knew bikers were into kinky shit. It’s the price paid for their good looks.”

“They didn’t piss on me.” Rachel flashes me a disgusted look. “They…”

My friends both stare at me. Suddenly it feels as though I’m speaking to a whole auditorium of people. My heart thumps in my chest. They’re not gonna approve of the nonconsensual tattoo, but an oath was sealed when we all graduated from college.

Never break the triangle.

“We’re sort of…promised to each other for the rest of our lives.”

Tammy blinks. Keeps blinking. Is she trying to comprehend what I’m saying, or is a loose eyelash irritating her eye?

Rachel bites down on her lip. “What do you mean?”

“They tattooed their names on me after we got married.”

“About that,” Tammy says. “Update, please? Did you engage in conversation last night about the annulment? Or was it just sex?”

“A mixture of both.”

“So you’re getting it annulled?”

“One thing at a time.” Rachel leans forward. “Let’s go back to the tattoo. Please tell me you’renotremoving it yourself, with your own hard-earned cash?”

I bring the iced latte back into my hands to give my fingers something to fiddle with. They have my best interests at heart, I know, but the questions feel like verbal attacks. “Yeah…” I trace my finger around the green Starbucks logo. “I won’t be getting it removed.”

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