Page 62 of The Rebound Plan

I widen my legs, sinking all the way onto him, and instead of repeating myself, I think of something Russ might like to hear instead. “We shouldn’t be doing this outside. We might get caught.”

Max growls and thrusts his hips up. “Russ will keep an eye out.”

“I’ll do my best,” our audience says.

He sounds so close.

“Hard to tear your eyes away, huh?” Max squeezes my ass. “Maybe I should just share her.”

My pussy clenches down in unanticipated alarm.

He takes that as an endorsement. “She likes the sound of that, man. I can feel it. Come here, touch her.”

“You sure?” Russ is right there, right behind me.

And then there’s a creak, his knee settling down on the lounger, and wild, reckless, foolish heat closes in behind me. He’s not touching me yet, but he’s close enough I can feel his big body. Every handspan that I ogled at the lake, every taut muscle that leaned over me in the kitchen. Right behind me, looming.

His breath washes over my bare shoulder, and then his hands ghost over my arms, my shoulders, barely touching me. I gasp when his fingertips are the first to make firm contact, pressing against my shoulder blades.

Tipping me forward, I realize. Leaning me into my husband, but also tilting my hips and popping my ass cheeks out.

Russ—Russell—is looking down my spine to my bare, spread ass.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re so…”

His fingers trail down toward my , making me tremble. He stops midway down my back, pausing for a beat before he drags his touch back up again, reversing the fiery course, and then he lightly wraps his fingers around my neck, giving me a hand necklace and tipping my head back.

His voice is rough, raspy. “Are you sure you want this?”

I reach back, tangling my fingers in Russ’s surprisingly soft, curly hair. Connecting the three of us. One hand pulling Russ down towards me, the other bracing on Max’s shoulder as he slowly drives up and into me.

Somehow it's a complete surprise, but it's also completely right that it is Russ, who fills in the gap in this final goodbye of my marriage.

“We want this,” I say softly, holding Russ’s concerned but heated gaze.

Max doesn't argue. He's the one who invited him, after all.

Between my thighs, he keeps thrusting, moving in and out of me, but my awareness has shifted away from the steady pleasure there to the terrifyingly uncertain sensations skittering across my skin where Russ is touching me, making everything feel shimmery and surreal.

“You said you’ve done this before, man?” Max asks.

Russ grunts, his attention staying on my face as he answers. “Yeah. There were two guys on my first team who were always, uh… They shared girls. Sometimes we just took turns and watched. Sometimes they invited me in like this. It's all hot.”

I let out a weak, tremulous laugh.

Itisall hot.

I had forgotten how good it feels to be sandwiched between bodies, to have my senses overwhelmed.

Russ brushes his lips over my bare shoulder to the nape of my neck. “Not so big on sharing now,” he murmurs, and it’s so low I don’t think Max hears it. “But I'll make an exception tonight.”

“You ever double penetrated a girl?” Russ and I both tense, and Max laughs. “Come on, hun. You can take us both.”

I moan despite myself at the mental image.

“You’re such a slut, I love it.”

Oh, how I wish that were true. He doesn’t love it, though. He’s going to regret this all in the morning.

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