Page 111 of Seeking Two Lovers

His slow smirk and the pink once more rising to his cheeks tempted my blood to rush back to my spent dick crushed between us.

Silence settled, but neither of us moved. We simply stared at one another, enjoying the coming down from our climax, the closeness and warmth of being where one belonged.

Eventually, reality settled back in, and the bliss faded from Blaine’s eyes. He gently backed out, leaving my hole sore and gaping.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” He trailed a fingertip through the wetness seeping out of my ass, and I hissed in discomfort as he pushed it back in. “Sloppy and relaxed like this.” He stroked a few times, a groan deep in his chest every time I twitched from him rubbing over my sensitive prostate. “Almost as sexy as when it’s pink, puckered, and desperate for more.”

“Christ, B.” I gritted my teeth, and he finally stopped with the torture, gently pulling his fingers from my sore-as-hell ass.

“How easily you make me forget the real world.” Blaine sat back on his haunches, and I stretched out my legs beside him, not caring that his cum would puddle on the comforter beneath my ass.

I couldn’t fucking move, and the ache in my backside…Christ, so good.

His gaze rolled slowly up over my sprawled form, pausing on my mouth briefly before lifting to my eyes. “Shower?”

“You might have to carry me.”

A huff of laughter left him, pulling my lips up, but both our mouths flatlined in a matter of seconds.

I’d managed to distract him for a time, but the darkness rose through the pleasure in his eyes. “We need to get Sarah out of there, Grey.”

“We’re will,” I stated firmly, conviction in my heart.

Grim determination glinted in his eyes and lined his lips. I’d seen that stubbornness before—it’d been in his decision to leave with me when I hightailed it for the West Coast and sunshine.

I held out my hand, and he twined his fingers through mine even though we’d already silently agreed. “We’re going to see this through to the end.”

“Together,” he vowed, his tone as firm and unyielding as my mind.

32

LILY

A door squeaked open, waking me from my drunken stupor on the couch. I blinked as light flooded the living room from the kitchen behind me.

Sitting up, I peered over the back of the couch, eyes narrowed against the bright overheads. My buzz kept me from focusing for a few seconds.

Haley dropped her bag onto the table, tossing her keys to land beside them.

“How was your date?” I asked even though her scowl stated it hadn’t been good.

“Another asshole narcissist. It’s like I’m a goddamn magnet for the fuckers!” She grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and uncorked it while I considered her sour mood.

Haley seriously couldn’t catch a break. Every time she finally gave into the need to find a real date rather than mere hookup, shitheads came out of the woodwork.

She shuffled into the living area of our open-concept apartment, her hold on the bottle’s neck letting me know we were in for one hell of a night.

“Come here.” I sat and held out an arm, and she sank against my side.

She smelled like lavender, soothing when she tended toward prickliness.

Bottle tipped upward, she guzzled, and I closed my eyes again.

At least the spins had left, so I would be able to focus on her.

“It started off perfect,” she began. “He asked about me, got me talking—and you know I don’t open up easily—then after his third or fourth shot, he turned everything we discussed back toward him. How successful he was, how he had no issues getting hookups… Fuck.” Haley guzzled again, and I ran my fingers through the straightened strands of her hair falling over her shoulder.

“And don’t get me started on his sense of entitlement.”

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