Page 15 of Following Their Heart

And then I lose the ability to think, because Shep is kissing his way to the edge of my bra and dipping his fingers under the edge, and Doc is using his open mouth to massage my inner thighs.

“Yeah,” Doc breathes, pausing with his mouth oh so close to my dripping wet pussy. “Take out those pretty tits.”

“With pleasure,” Shep says, and he works the top of my bra down until my small breasts bounce free. With the bra still on, my modest mounds are pushed up and forward, and Shep wastes no time moving his kisses to my sensitive peaks.

“Ah!” I writhe in wordless pleasure as four insistent hands caress me, and two hot mouths center their attentions on my nipples and clit. The pleasure builds then plateaus, builds then plateaus as my guys change up their intensity.

Doc’s lips and tongue are making me wild, and just when I think I’m going to explode, he moves his laving to my outer lips. Shep follows Doc’s lead—or maybe he’s matching the intensity of his nipping and sucking to the volume of my cries.

All I know is, I’m riding the melody of a rising symphony, and I can’t wait for the crescendo. And then it happens. It takes me off guard when Doc latches his whole mouth over my clit and sucks it like he’s trying to draw out snake venom. At the same time, Shep is pulling hard on one of my nipples while flicking the other with spit-slicked fingers.

Incredible heat grips me and makes my body go rigid. My legs clamp around Doc’s head, and my arms crush Shep to me, and my moan sounds like someone has trapped a wild thing in a cage against its will.

And then I’m held between two muscle-bound bodies, and I’m blinking at the popcorn ceiling like an owl.

“Wow,” I say. It’s the only word I can call up at the moment. Small pulses of receding pleasure are still fluttering deep inside my body. My chest is heaving as I try to catch my breath.

The mattress trembles with my guys’ laughter.

“I think we broke her,” Shep says with a smile in his voice.

“No doubt,” Doc replies. “Did that live up to your dream,chér?”

I nod. The movement feels exaggerated and discombobulated. I take a few steadying breaths as the tiny pulses ebb away on a cloud of relaxation. I find my words. “That waswaybetter than my dream.”

I’m chest to chest with Shep, and Doc is spooned up to my back. I kiss Shep, and say, “Thank you. That was amazing.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “It was.”

I search for Doc over my shoulder. He helps by lifting up and positioning his upper body over me. I kiss him and thank him too.

He settles back behind me, but I say, “Don’t get too comfortable. It’s your turn now.” I make it clear I’m talking to both of them as I sit up and begin petting their chests.

They’re so different. The color of their hair is similar, with Doc’s being a shade or two darker, but that’s where the similarities stop. Their chests, as they lie on their backs on either side of me, are a study in contrasts. Doc’s is deep tan from working outdoors without a shirt on, and he has minimal hair, just a dusting between his pecs that picks up in a happy trail near the band of his boxer briefs. Shep’s chest, on the other hand, is ivory pale and covered with brown-sugar-colored hair that is darker than the hair on his head.

Shep’s muscles are like flesh-colored boulders. He built them up in his former career as a semi-pro wrestler, and he’s kept them up with weights and hard work. They make his sturdy six-foot-two frame seem giant-sized. Doc’s muscles are longer and leaner, just like his six-foot-four frame.

They wear their hair different, too. Doc’s is trimmed up neatly and gelled into stylish, mussy perfection. His beard is short and tidy. Shep keeps his long locks up in a manbun most of the time, and his beard looks like birds might have nested in it at one time.

Ready to play, I crawl over Shep and work the elastic loose so his hair cascades around his face and shoulders. The blond waves feel like silk as I finger-comb them. Shep sighs happily, but he says, “I do not need a turn, my flower. I am content.”

“Speak for yourself,” Doc says, and I smile at him.

Both guys get turns being petted. I start with their shoulders and chests and begin adding kisses here and there. Interestingly, Shep doesn’t continue to deny his need for a turn in our game. With his eyes closed and his hands behind his head, he lies back and lets me work.

I’m happy when he doesn’t stop me from peeling his tighty-whities down his thick thighs. He even lifts up to help. Once I have him naked—except for the studded leather bands on his wrists—I can’t help admiring him from his pale feet to the top of his head, and everything in between.

“Wow,” I say, and I kiss his mouth before moving over to Doc.

He smirks at me—all confident and sexy—as I give him the same treatment. Except when I start pulling down his boxer briefs, he’s too impatient to let me take my time. He bows off the bed and shoves them down, letting his penis spring free.

He’s magnificent. So is Shep. Both of them are perfect in their own way, and I’m amazed that I’m this close to two erect penises, and I feel no panic whatsoever. I haven’t been at Eagle Peak very long, but in that time, my guys have earned my trust. I know none of them are going to take anything from me that I don’t want to give.

They’ve healed me. I think they will continue to heal me. And hopefully, I will bring them some much-needed healing, as well.

“DoIget awow?” Doc says with a cheeky grin.

“You get something even better.” I wrap my hand around his length and stroke upward until I reach the head.

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