Saving Savannah

“All the time in the world,” I said.

Our girlfriend’s expression went even more wanton and devilish. She turned, shook her ass our way, and sauntered straight toward the back room of her shop.

“Then let’s go see who comes out on top,” she winked seductively over her shoulder. “Three strong warriors, or one very wicked witch…”

Forty-Four

SAVANNAH

It was the night to end all nights. Incredible company. Gorgeous weather. A perfect storm of fun and laughter, of drinking and dancing and messing around, as we let ourselves slowly unwind from a long, hard week.

Not to mention I was still throbbing, from our time together, in the back room of my shop.

We’d taken the edge off there, and in record time, too. There was something about dressing up that really did it for me. And based purely on how fast the guys finished, I’d have to say my sexy witch costume was doing it for them, as well.

In less than twenty minutes I’d taken on a viking, a gladiator, and a highland swordsman — in that order. Hey, when it rains, it pours. Sometimes life gives you lemons, and other times it gives you three crazy hot, totally ripped boyfriends hellbent on screwing you senseless before they take you out for a night on the town.

And nothing turns heads more than kissing three separate guys on the same dance floor.

It was wild, it was crazy, and it was by far the most daring display of PDA I’d ever accomplished in my dating life. But no matter how many sideways glances and looks of astonishment we garnered, I found that I didn’t care. I filed any potential ramifications in the ‘I really don’t give a shit’ folder, especially after a few cocktails and a night of hot, sweaty fun.

I still couldn’t believe I was their girlfriend, though.

The whole thing made me giddy, just thinking about it. Me, and three different guys. Three beautiful, won

derful men dedicated exclusively to our four-way, committed relationship.

Three boyfriends… all for me.

Damn.

It seemed almost a logistical impossibility. As intimidating as it was ludicrous.

And yet, was it really? I mean, weren’t we already doing it?

In a way, that’s probably what normalized it for me. That we’d been going on the better part of a month, with all four of us getting along famously. There’d been nothing but fun. Good times. Hot sex. And with all three of the guys, not even the slightest hint of a scrap of jealousy.

And believe me, I’d looked.

In my eyes, jealousy would be the ultimate deal-breaker. Not because of the drama involved, but because the very last thing I wanted was to come between three best friends who were more like brothers to each other.

So far though, they’d been happy. Excited. Thrilled to share the one thing in their lives that was apparently bringing them the most joy. And as selfish as it seemed, I loved that their focus had been all about me.

By the time the night was over, we were spent and exhausted. We’d run all around Salem. Crashed another party on the way to the first, and had stopped for drinks at two bars along the way. Zane misplaced his axe hours ago. Erik’s breastplate hung sideways, by only one strap.

It was time to go home. Or rather my place, actually, because it was closest. But first…

First, we were absolutely starving.

Roman led us to a quaint little diner, still lit up despite the late hour. We took a booth. My legs thanked me the second my ass hit the seat…

“I gotta hit the head,” said Roman.

The others grumbled their agreement, getting right up after sitting down. I had to laugh.

“I thought only girls went to the bathroom in groups?” I teased.

Zane chuckled and spun away. Roman playfully flipped me off.