Page 31 of Me Three
I turn to Ev who looks at me, and he says, “Take it?”
“Next time?” is all I can say.
Ten
Tru
Just found out there’s a Magritte exhibition in Virginia Beach on Friday. Do you want to go?Everett sends me a message on Wednesday morning.
Naturally, our shared night has been all I can think about. Especially since my ass still hurts from having both of them inside me.
The way they looked at me, the way they looked at each other, the way they looked with my lipstick all over their bodies. But also the way they made me feel, too. Encapsulated by their warmth, the object of their affection. Wanted and needed in equal measure. All sensations I’ve tried to convince my body and heart I can live without.
Every time I close my eyes, I go back in that room, feeling Carter’s weight on me, Ev underneath, and both of them filling me up like I’ve never been filled before, stretching me like I’ve never been stretched before, fucking me like I’ve never been fucked before.
It’s hard to concentrate when all I want is to curl up back in that room and keep going until we can’t get our dicks up anymore. And even then, we can just cuddle up and make out, and that sounds hot, too.
Really? What a coincidence. I have a project on him due in two weeks, so that would be great, I reply to his message and look at my canvas while waiting for his response.
The dark tones aren’t dark enough, but the skin tones are getting there. I always hated how other artists can finish a painting in a day or two, but it takes me weeks to finish and be happy with anything I make.
My current painting is supposed to be a moment shared between three people, but up until yesterday, all I seem to be able to produce is a mass of beige in the middle of some browns and nothing resembling anything remotely sexual.
Now, it’s starting to look like shapes. Like the arms they’re supposed to be. I know I should probably start on my Magritte project, or any of my other stuff if I don’t want to be late, but fuck me if I can’t concentrate on anything else. And something tells me I won’t be able to until I finish this painting.
Awesome. It’s a date!The reply comes, and I read it over and over again, my lips can’t help but form a smile.
You know it, I reply. Then, I add,Will Carter be coming too?
The answer comes only seconds later.
No. He’s not very artistic.
Fair, I reply.We could grab some dinner together afterward or something?
Yeah, that’d be nice, he replies.
Bonus points if he wears his sexy lingerie.
The dots on the bottom of my screen bounce, stop, bounce then stop again until the message arrives and I’m unable to take my eyes off my phone.
Carter won’t be there, it says.He doesn’t do dates.
I don’t know why the message hurts as much as it does, but I feel it in my chest, niggling at my throat like there’s something lodged in it.
Cool. But he can always join us in bed after, I type.
I wait for the response, but instead, my phone rings and Ev’s name flashes across my screen.
“Did I say something wrong?” I ask as soon as I pick it up.
When Everett doesn’t laugh, I grimace. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.
“I didn’t mean to—” I start saying.
“Don’t-don’t worry about it. Like I said before, he’s got issues. What I want to know is are you interested in me… without Carter?” he asks.
“Oh,” I say because it slips my mouth before I can stop. “Yes. Of-of course.”
