“Show me?”
Kemper shrugged. “We’re still working on the best course of action.”
“So you’re going to ignore me? You don’t want to have sex with me now that you know I’m a sex addict?”
“That’s not it, baby,” Kemper said, brushing her silken hair away from her face. “We’re just not sure what we can do to help you.”
“What if I tell you whenever I have particular cravings?”
“That might work,” Kit admitted. “I still want you in therapy.”
“I’ll go,” she said. “I promise.”
“Okay,” Kit said. “That’s a start, I suppose.”
“And I’ll submit to you whenever you like, Master.”
Kit sat on the edge of the bed. He turned to her, and shaking his head, he said, “We can’t move forward with your training until we talk to a therapist.”
“When will we do that?”
“Tomorrow.”
“And I have to wait for you to fuck me until tomorrow?”
Kemper shrugged and looked away. Apparently, this was on him. Kit cleared his throat and considered the final question from the paper he no longer needed now that he’d asked the majority of them. “Do you love me? Do you love Kemper?”
Her gaze bounced between them. “Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. I’ve never been as happy as I’ve been here.”
“Is it because of the money?” Kit asked, wondering if that’s why she was so accommodating.
“No,” she replied. “The money is nice, but I’d rather have the men.”
“Are you certain?” Kemper asked, pressing the issue, too.
“I’m positive,” she said, rising to her knees and rubbing her chest against Kit’s back as she massaged him.
In a matter of minutes, he was under her spell. Her hands raked over his buttons, and she peeled his shirt away from his skin. He wiggled away from his jeans, only slightly aware of Kemper undressing behind them.
Then, he towered over her and whispered against her lips, “I want you to make love to me, Holly. Don’t fuck me. Make love with me. Show me I can be in your life today, tomorrow, and a year from now. Make me a believer.”
She framed his face and kissed him then, her lips dragging over his. They kissed for what seemed like long, agonizing minutes. Slowly, her hand crawled toward his cock, and he flipped over, allowing her full access to guide him when she was ready. Once she seated herself over him, Kemper joined them, his foot landing next to Kit’s hip.
Her expression changed to one of compassion, a soft look of love settling in her eyes as she lowered her pussy to his cock. He deeply penetrated her and pushed up on her middle, helping her arch for Kemper’s first thrust.
When her pussy tightened around his cock, he knew Kemper was buried to the hilt, his penis locked in place. And that’s when they rocked her, slow and easy, until her body took on a staggering beat all on its own.
Chapter Thirteen
They didn’t believe she could differentiate fucking from loving. She could. She knew she could. She felt loved. She felt beautiful, sexy, and wanted.
She’d never felt any of that before. No other man made her feel what these two men allowed her to feel with them.
Her wet pussy closed around Kit’s dick as he pulsed inside her. Kemper’s cock pressed higher, slipped deeper, and she tried to clench and close around him. She wanted to hang on to this feeling, the slow strokes, and the loving hands.