Fearless Like Us (Like Us 9)

Emotion stronger than arousal clouds the air, pierces my lungs, and sends me.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

“Banks,” she breaths. “Kits.” We let her say our names.

I can only handle entering Sulli for one quick pump. Akara does the same. Muscles flexed, I’m burning with emotion and need.

Standing so close to Akara, our bodies brush and touch and I don’t fuckin’ care. Sweat is slick. Heat engulfs. Feelings surge.

One solid thrust and then his turn.

One more for him and then it’s mine.

She’s shaking.

Quivering.

Trembling.

Sulli is overcome in this moment, and I’m way too close to the edge.

“I’m gonna come,” I whisper to Akara as he passes me on our switch.

He nods. “Me too.”

I take a deep breath and fill her again. Not all the way. But enough. With a few more thrusts, Sulli twitches, and her body arches up. She contracts, and light reaches my eyes. Fucking… The crescendo to her pleasure wraps tightly around my length, pulsing against me. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

Christ.

Breathing hard, I leave Sulli so Akara can release.

She’s coming down from her orgasm, sensitive as hell, and he’s tender with her as he takes his moment to reach a climax inside her.

She shudders, twitching again like she’s reaching another orgasm with him.

Goddamn.

I slip my boxer-briefs on, and after they’re done, I help Akara with the rope. When she’s untied, she lets out a deeper breath. “Fucking whoa,” she tells us. “That was…fuck.”

I smile.

Akara smiles.

“You enjoy that?” I crawl onto the bed next to her and plant a couple light kisses at her neck. She snuggles into me.

Akara kisses her ankle.

“Yeah, I really fucking did.” Her eyes flutter a little. Spent.

Akara climbs into the bed on the other side of her, his arm draped around her waist. She grinds back into him until he shifts even closer.

She mutters, “I never wanted it to end.”

Akara and I share a soft look. Neither did we. Outside of this room, back in Philly, we’re gonna meet some type of hell.

We all know it.

“Sleep,” he urges.

She lightly strokes our legs with her ankles. “But I want to…stay awake…and hear you guys…talk…about me.” She yawns.

We laugh.

“FOMEFT hitting you?” I ask her.

“Hard.” She tries to open one eye. Maybe because the one thing we’re holding fiercer to right now is our bond together. The three of us.

“Then we won’t talk about you,” I tell her. “We’ll save that for when you’re awake.”

“Just this once,” Akara adds, giving me a look. Yeah, we’re not going to be able to keep that up for forever.

“Deal.” Even as she starts to drift off, even with this deal, she fights sleep. Like she’s immortalizing us, these feelings, so no one will rip away what we found. What I feel for Sulli is cemented so deep inside my unholy soul.

The world will have to bring me to my knees to take her away from me.

46

SULLIVAN MEADOWS

New Year’s Eve.

We’ve neither confirmed nor denied the leak, which has only fueled the speculation and attention that rages down on us. Fucking chaos. It reigns supreme outside the penthouse. Ever since we returned from the lake house yesterday, news vans and paparazzi have been camping outside the high-rise. With telephoto lenses, cameras upon cameras, and feverish eyes, like vultures waiting to dig into a carcass.

While I watch, I’m dreaming they’re not here for me. They’re staked outside to catch a glimpse of Moffy and Farrow and their squishy-cheeked, blue-eyed baby.

But I can only fool myself for so long.

All my roommates have already left for New York, where Aunt Rose and Uncle Connor are throwing a gala for friends & family. Akara enforced a “staggered” departure.

And I watch each of my cousins leave.

I watch the paparazzi stay put.

Waiting.

For us.

Scuffling back from the expansive window and Philly skyline views, I grab my footwear and go to the velvet couch. While I’m sitting, I stick my feet in sneakers, and I reach down. My hands tremble as I tie the laces. I swallow my anxiety, and I hike up my dress a little more.

The emerald-green razorback dress hugs my athletic frame, and I figure I need proper runaway shoes in case shit hits the fan. Shit meaning the hot steaming spotlight on me. I’d like to fucking bust the bulb to that thing.

But I don’t know how.

My fingers slip off the lace.

Banks squats down. “I’ve got you,” he says with deep confidence.

My heart soars out of my chest as he ties my sneaker. “I’m not used to being the one that needs all the strategies just to walk out the door.” Sure, we had to have plenty of strategical entrances and exits during the FanCon Tour. But that was different.

This is my normal life.

It’s supposed to be at least.

Akara touches the mic at his ear, and then his eyes dance over to me. “It should be better once we’re at the venue, Sul.”