Page 50 of Avalanche
Okay. Okay. I’m going to fucking do this.
“Eddie.”
Lily smiles across the room at me the moment I enter. She’s sitting on the bed with Matty on one side and Antoine on the other, while Liam is sprawled out across the lower half of the mattress, taking up as much space as humanly possible.
I blink at them in surprise, then push the door shut behind me. “You’re not fucking.”
Lily laughs, that breathy, raspy laugh that goes straight to my cock each time. It’s a laugh that whispers at dropping off wind-whipped cornices and floating through powder, of staring back at a sun-sparkled mountain and seeing your own tracks curving behind you like art.
“No, we’re not fucking.” She straightens her legs, nudging Liam over to make space for me. “Come hang out.”
“Hang out,” I echo.
I’d been sure, as I rushed through my freezing cold shower, that I’d come in here to find everyone mid-orgy. A pile of naked bodies, writhing in ecstasy, with Lily in the middle and me completely forgotten.
Her smile widens, making a dimple appear in one cheek. “I mean, we could do that too. If you want.”
She blushes and the words are a little breathless, but that doesn’t stop her from staring straight at me as she says adds: “You know, fucking.”
Poor Matty is bright red beside her. Shirtless too, his suit discarded across Lily’s dresser, so there’s no hiding the flush that brands his neck and shoulders. I feel strangely grateful at the sight of it—not him being shirtless, but him being embarrassed. Maybe it’s a bit dickish of me, but it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who still feels uncomfortable by this whole thing.
Even if I want it. Which, yeah. I do.
My gaze drifts to Lily’s bare legs, those miles of honed muscle and that soft curve of thigh peeking out near the edges of her sleep-shorts. To her slender arms, still faintly golden with the last vestiges of her tan, and the scooping neck of her tank revealing the tops of her breasts.
My legs move before I can think about it, bringing me around to Matty’s side of the bed.
“Sure,” I tell her, trying to sound nonchalant. But my heart is hammering like a rabbit on the run as I throw myself onto the bed. “Let’s hang out.”
The next few minutes are a blur, a whirlwind of me quietly panicking in my own head while trying to engage in conversation, trying to ignore Liam’s occasional jibes. Of holding her hand as I lay belly-down on the mattress, of tracing the shape of her knee with my fingertips and meditating on the shape of her smile.
And then suddenly I’m kissing her.
I’m not sure how it happens, exactly. Or why. But somehow she’s pulling me towards her, guiding me like her own personal puppet with the gentlest of touches until I’m climbing over her, my knees between her spread thighs, my hands finding her waist, my lips against her own.
Her hands tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck, no longer gentle, but demanding. Pulling me down onto her as she slides beneath me on the mattress.
My hand slips up her tank top, sliding up soft skin to cradle one breast, thumbing a taut nipple. She moans into my mouth, and the sound of it vibrates through the very core of me, down my spine, pushing wildfire in my veins.
That sound, it’s like dynamite detonated at the top of the mountain. I’m helpless against it, caught in the rushing avalanche, flying even as the world explodes around me.
Time stops. Then speeds up. Then slows.
I’m peeling off her top, trailing kisses along her stomach, the underside of her breasts, engulfing one nipple and then the next in my mouth, teasing one then the other with my tongue. She arches beneath me, her knees spreading wide, her little panting breaths coming faster and faster.
I love that sound. Love knowing that I’m making her do that. For me. She’s doing it for me.
Not them.
My eyes flick up as I remember that the other guys are here too. And Matty. This is supposed to be his special night.
Reluctantly, I pull back, breathing heavily as I lift up and look around.
Antoine and Matty are kissing, both of them still sitting at the head of the bed, their torsos forming a sort of archway over Lily. She lays back on the mattress, staring up between them, her chest heaving and breasts marked from my kisses.
Liam is nestled face-down between Antoine’s spread thighs, so it’s pretty obvious what’s going on there.
But Matty and Antoine?
