“Sunday. Why?” I ask, taking another bite of the shortcake, which I have to say, turned out perfect.
“We should go to Smith’s Farm.”
“The amusement park?”
“Yeah,” he says. “We usually go at least once every summer. It would be good to go now before it really starts getting crowded.”
“Good idea,” Shane says.
When I hesitate, Devin asks, “Do you like to ride roller coasters?”
“I think so, but I haven’t been on one since I was in eighth grade.”
“Really?” Shane says. “The park is less than an hour away.”
I drag my spoon around the bowl, gathering up another bite of my dessert. “I went on a school field trip,” I explain. I had a great time that day, but it’s no surprise that my mother never took me back. The thought of her going there is so unimaginable that it’s laughable.
Jade’s not big on amusement parks, so I’ve just never gone as an adult. It’s not the kind of place you go by yourself.
“Well, you’re definitely due for another visit,” Khalil says, like the matter is settled.
I should probably say no. I’m having a hard enough time getting through a dinner without lusting after these men; spending an entire day with them can’t be a good idea. But it does sound like fun, and the two margaritas I’ve had agree that I should go.
“In the meantime, who’s up for darts or billiards?” Khalil asks.
Shane and Devin tell him they’re in, but I opt out. “I’m going to read tonight,” I tell them. “One of my favorite authors just put out a new ebook, and it took some willpower to cook dinner rather than dive into the story.”
Khalil gives me a smile. I’m not sure if the others read much, but I know he understands.
What he probably doesn’t know is that my other reason for skipping games tonight is that I need time away from the men and all of their testosterone. Or maybe it’s their pheromones. Whatever it is, there’s definitely some sort of chemical reaction going on that’s making it hard for me to stop thinking about their bodies and how much I want one of them on top of me.
Also, I’m still tipsy from the margaritas. Drunk and horny is a perilous combination, and if I start playing games with them tonight, I might do something I regret, like suggesting another round of truth or dare.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I stand up and start clearing plates.
“We’ve got it,” Marcos says, putting his hand on mine when I try to pick up his dish. “Go read your book.”
I end up reading for hours. I lose track of time, actually, and realize how late it is when I hear sounds in the hall of the men going to their bedrooms.
I made it all the way to the bad part of the book, the part where everything seems hopeless and I wonder if things will actually work out. But I trust the author, and I know I have a happy ending to look forward to. It’s a hard place to stop reading, but my eyelids have been drooping for the last three chapters.
Despite how tired I am, when I finally put my phone down and close my eyes, my mind won’t rest. First, it replays the hottest scene in the book, in which the main character asked men she trusted to put her in restraints, blindfold her, and use her body as if she were powerless.
In real life, I detest feeling powerless, but something about the way it was presented in the story made it really hot. The woman felt free when she was blindfolded, relieved of any burdens or expectations. She could simply be, and feel, while knowing she was truly safe and cared for.
So now I’m picturing it, imagining that I’m the one who’s experiencing it, and my helpful brain is subbing in Khalil, Shane, Marcos and Devin for the men in the book.
When it becomes clear that sleep is not going to come until I find some release, I reach into my shorts and rub the ache between my legs.
It’s no wonder I’m worked up; I haven’t had sex since Khalil found me in Marcos’s bedroom. That would be a long time for me under normal circumstances, but here I am living with four handsome men, who, either knowingly or unknowingly, are tormenting me.
Like Shane with that whipped cream tonight. Lord. He knew his tongue was getting me worked up.
And Marcos pressing against me at the stove. What the hell was that?
With my head halfway in the fiction I just read, I slide my fingers inside my panties and dip into the wetness there. I stroke over my clit and ahh – I’m wired like a powder keg ready to go off. A moan escapes and I quickly bite my lip.