Page 26 of Filthy Rich Daddies
I shrug, slide onto sofa. “Mom’s bummed I’m missing Thanksgiving. I deployed the ‘finals’ excuse.”
Colin’s head pops up from behind his mystery device. “Technically true. Finals are always around the corner.”
We settle into an easy chat. Atticus asks what classes I’m eyeing next semester. Colin wants to see my data set on population growth curves. Dean listens, interjects with clarifying questions like a venture-capital shark.
It’s odd. I’m used to guys’ eyes glazing over when I talk about my work. But they’re not performing interest. They actually enjoy the nerd shit. It’s intoxicating to feel valued beyond being “the hot virgin,” though theydefinitelyappreciate that too, judging by last night.
A text pings—Arabella again.
Arabella:Still alive?
Me:Thriving. Can’t go into detail, family room.
Arabella:Condoms. Lube. Hydrate. Send gossip later.
I send the ok-hand emoji and pocket the phone.
While the guys debate whether 3-D printed steak will ever taste right—Dean says not unless you print cow gut microbes, but Colin claims flavor chemistry can hack it—I do a quick systems check on myself.
I am deliciously sore in a zillion new places. No complaints on that score. My head is surprisingly clear. Usually, new situations trigger my classic fight-flight treadmill. Instead, I feel anchored. My wallet is soon to be very happy. Last night was my first time having sex withanyone, and I did it with three wickedly experienced men who tag-teamed my body like an improv troupe showing off.
I want more. Not just the sex—though, yes—but the banter, the comfort, the sense that these menseeme. That part’s addictive. Which is ironic, because sugar arrangements are designed to avoid strings. I’m supposed to enjoy the spoiling, clock out, and return to everyday life. Except “everyday life” now feels grayscale compared to this IMAX.
I’m going to crash hard after this. I know it. The high is too high not to crash. Arabella will be the perfect person to help me come down safely.
We pivot to planning the rest of the long weekend. Tic suggests a private museum tour, Dean floats the idea of hiring the test kitchen for a molecular-gastronomy demo, and Colin is looking up obscure diners for tomorrow’s breakfast.
“Tomorrow evening I need a three-hour block to study,” I say, surprising myself with the responsible voice. “If I bomb O-chem my GPA tanks.”
Dean nods approval. “We can set you up in the library nook. Flashcards incoming.”
Atticus raises a brow. “Our job, then, is to relax you sufficiently so the enzyme pathways stick.”
My cheeks warm. “Pretty sure last night set a high bar.”
Colin grins. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
The energy in the room changes, and their eyes are on me. It’s strange—almost as if there’s a pulse in here that we all feel, but can’t see. Their eyes go predatory, like a jungle cat ready to pounce.
My heart speeds up, and my body aches for them. I’m sore, there’s no way around that. But a little pain has never stopped me before. There’s really only one thing left to say.
“Show me.”
Colin stands, taking my hands in his. He guides me to the room with the big bed, the other two stripping as they follow. When we reach the edge, he kisses me and bites my bottom lip before playfully shoving me onto the bed.
I roll across it, searching for the middle, but Dean is there, naked, his bare cock against my ass as he spoons me on my side. He grinds on my cheek as if seeking release, like last night on the balcony. He murmurs in my ear, “So soft.”
Tic climbs on the bed in front of me, all day-long stubble lips and hands everywhere. It’s a hell of a sandwich to be in. His hands travel between my thighs, fingers too deft on my clit already. I can’t help but grind against him, searching for pressure, for pleasure.
That’s when Dean’s fingers sneak into my pussy from behind.
Having the two of them go at me like this makes me rock back and forth. I can’t tell which I’m searching for more—something on my clit or something deep inside. I’m slippery and swollen and so sensitive I might die.
Tic wriggles down the bed and lifts my thigh up to replace his fingers with his tongue. It’s enough to make me explode, and I’m so close. And so exposed. I don’t know what it is about that last part that gets me. I’m not body shy, but being fully exposed to these men turns me on in ways I don’t understand.
One of Dean’s fingers slides out of my pussy and into my ass, and I jolt from the overload of it. I never knew I’d be into that, but oh my god, it feels so good that my eyes roll back.
“Think she’d like a good spanking?” Colin asks out of nowhere.
