Page 44 of Love Bitters

"No," I tell him breathlessly. "Please, Wes."

As if I’ve cut the only string holding him back, his hand goes to the button and zipper on his pants. Never in a million years did I ever think the sound of a zipper would turn me on so much.Trying to help, I bunch the fabric of my skirt at my hip, and his hand returns to skim up the inside of my other thigh from the back. Without a single stitch of clothing being removed from our bodies, he simply slides my panties to the side before slowly working his way inside of me. My heart beats against my chest in a heavy rhythm as my body adjusts to his size. After not having sex for months, the feeling is enough to leave me breathless.

Adjusting my leg, he throws it over his own before pulling almost entirely out and quickly pushing back in. He works slowly as though he's stopping to enjoy the passion of the moment, and I'd fully support this were it not for the fact that he's now got me so worked up I feel like I could fall apart at the seams at any second. Reaching behind me, I pull his lips to mine once more. As soon as our tongues begin their dance, he picks up the pace, moving fast enough to have my breasts bouncing at every thrust. Then, in true Wes form, he moves the hand grasping my hip for leverage down between my legs where we're connected. Those fingers slip between my folds again, working a magic that has me gasping for air while calling his name at the same time. When I finally go over that edge, my body clenches down tightly on his cock and takes him with me. I never noticed before, probably because we used condoms a lot, but as he cums, his cock jerks inside of me, making me want to start all over.

He must feel it because he softly chuckles into my shoulder before muttering my name with a groan. "I think I lied," he says, still smiling. "I definitely miss this more. Waking up to you in my arms and making love to this sexy body."

I hum in agreement as he slips out of me. He leaves my leg thrown across his, and I don't bother to move it either. Pulling my shirt down my shoulder, he peppers every inch of naked skin he can reach with small kisses. Then his hand goes back underneath my shirt, caressing my belly instead of reaching for my breasts again. We lay like that for several minutes, neither of us willing to break the spell, his hand continuing to rub circles on my belly until it pauses, and I feel him take a deep breath.

"I have one more question for you," he states calmly.

In my post-sex bliss, he can ask me anything he wants. Oh, who am I kidding? He could ask whatever he wanted whenever.

Just as he goes to ask, the door slowly opens. Thatcher's head pokes through the crack, and a variety of emotions war on his face before it settles on lust. But I know I saw anger there before, so we need to have a chat sooner rather than later, him and me. His eyes fall to where my legs are still parted, and he can no doubt see the evidence of what just transpired. It doesn't help that I know for a fact Wes hasn't tucked himself back in his pants yet. That was one of the rules between the three of us, though. No hiding, so we don't bother trying to cover anything up.

Thatcher clears his throat before he says, "Thought I heard you guys talking and just wanted to check if Im was hungry or needed anything."

What I'd really like is to invite him to bed with us, but we need to have that talk first. Plus, now that he mentions it, I am starving.

"I am hungry, actually. Could I make a peanut butter sandwich?" I ask.

"You don't have to ask," Thatcher says.

At the same time, Wes murmurs, "You should make it for her and bring it back."

Knowing Thatcher, he’s likely considering Wes's suggestion, but I don't give them the option. "That's okay. I've got to get up and pee anyway."

Thatcher gives us a short nod before ducking back out of the door and shutting it behind himself. I let out a sigh, getting out of bed. We've for sure got a long conversation ahead of us. One that I think I'm more nervous about than telling the five of them about the baby.

Leaving Wes to fix himself up, I adjust my clothes before heading out to the bathroom. After I do my business and make my way out into the living room, I find the other four, plus Wes now, in various states of preoccupation. The latter is the only one with his gaze focused on me. Thatcher and Murphy are intently watching some game on the TV, beers in hand. Ollie's laid back with his head in Evan's lap and his phone in front of his face. Whether it's work stuff or social media, one can never tell with him. As per usual, Evan's nose is in a book. He glances up over his glasses and sends me a soft smile that I feel down to my toes.

I return it before changing directions toward the kitchen. It feels super weird to be back here just helping myself to whatever after so long, but if I ask for anything like a guest, it'll just make things awkward. Pressing down my anxiety, I gather the bread and peanut butter and set about making my sandwich.

I just about jump out of my skin when Murphy's voice fills the space. "We've got some of those little protein peanut butter balls too, if you want." Without waiting for my reply, he moves around me to reach to the top shelf and pull them down.

"Thanks," I tell him as he hands them to me. "I had some of these a few weeks ago but can't seem to find them in the store now." What I don't tell him is that I ate that first container in one sitting because they were more delicious than Penelope's shake. Nor do I betray my inner chunky heart and say how happy I am that he's giving me some. As it stands, I'm barely able to finish my statement on a soft breath of sound because, as he hands them over, he steps close enough for us to be in each other's space. According to the stereotype, one would think that Ollie and Evan would smell the best out of the five of them, but it's not true for me. Since knowing him, Murphy has always worn this cologne that's spicy with a hint of fruit. It's the oddest of combinations, but it works. Definitely on him. The scent clogs my brain and sends my thoughts straight to the gutter.

Leaning down close enough to my face that it has me hopeful for a kiss, he murmurs, "I'm glad you're back."

Then he leaves me standing there blinking rapidly with my pulse racing, holding my stupid sandwich in one hand and the container in the other. What I really should've done is tossed them and grabbed handfuls of his shirt, forcing him into a standoff for a kiss. It's what I would've done before. Why in the hell am I making this so weird now? It's a terrifying thought because what if we can't go back to the way it was before I left? What's even worse is wondering if that'll be my fault too.Ridiculous tears spring to my eyes again, but I try to fight them off. I think I've met my quota for mental breakdowns for the day.

Setting my spoils on the counter, I close my eyes to gather my wits before going into the room where any of them will see through me and make me cry anyway by asking what's wrong. A hand at my lower back has my face jerking to the person at my other side.

Murphy's hand helps guide my body until I'm facing him then his other comes up to cup my cheek. There's an expression on his face that's difficult to read, and I can't tell whether it's happy or sad or content. It kind of reminds me of the first time we were together in the cabin. Almost like he can't believe we're here right now. All of that flies right out the window, though, when his lips slant down over mine. As embarrassing as it is to admit, a tiny squeak of a sound slips from my throat, and I literally swoon into him. I'd always laughed at those girls in the stories. Like, who the hell swoons? Me, that's who.

His strong tattoo-covered arms wrap around me while he smooshes us as close together as we can possibly get. My hands travel up the front of his shirt, and I'm surprised to feel much harder muscle than was there before. It's clear Thatcher isn't the only one who's been hitting the gym. Our lips part at almost the same time, and his tongue slips inside. I've just had sex with Wes and not even twenty minutes later I'm ready to throw down right here with Murphy. I must say, even coming from this relationship before, that's a record for me.

Luckily, one of us has some kind of self-control, and he pulls away slightly after a few shorter pecks on my lips. Then, without speaking another word, he grabs his beer off the counter and leaves for real this time. I'd be offended were it not his way. A man of few words, that one. Either way, I for sure don't feel like crying anymore. Rubbing a hand up the side of my face, I marvel at the rollercoaster of emotions I've managed to go through in a matter of minutes. It's official. Pregnant people are absolutely bananas. I'm sure Jolene and Abi are just going to love this revelation. I'm curious as to which they'll find more amusing, that or the fact that I'm back to having these five men in my life again.

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