Our Love Story

Someone captured Ethan holding my hand on the beach at sunset, another of Enzo painting my toenails, another of all five of us taking terrible selfies with a selfie stick.

But even that clip is perfection.

All of it is.

My vision is a blur by the time it ends—all I see is love.

Love as deep as it is wide, just like Enzo’s mom taught him.

I pull them into a hug because sometimes there are no words.

They know I love the video because they’re all smiling like lovesick fools. But that is why I’m so crazy about them. They aren’t interested in hiding how they feel about me.

And I certainly have no interest I hiding how I feel about them.

After Mason hands me a tissue, he asks if I’m hungry.

“I can fix you something to eat before we go if you are.”

I shake my head. “No, I couldn’t eat now. Besides being an emotional wreck at the moment, I’m a little jittery about the trip.”

“You’re going to love Tahiti,” Enzo says, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my neck. My mind instantly goes to my memory of him and me last night. Enzo drew me a bath and we made love in a candlelit bathroom, rose petals in the tub. It was luxurious, to say the least.

See? Good memories are taking place of the bad... my future will be nothing like my past.

Since our first time together, I’ve been sleeping with the guys one by one, our bodies memorizing each other’s, and I’m learning that I’ve only just begun to understand what sex is all about.

But I like what I’m learning.

“I just can’t believe you’re actually taking me,” I say shaking my head.

“Enough with that,” Mason says. “We aren’t going anywhere without you. You are ours now. Our virgin.”

I bite my bottom lip, blushing. Loving the nickname for me, their virgin, but also knowing I am anything but.

“Well, I’m excited too,” I admit. “I’ve always dreamed of going to Tahiti.”

“And next... we will go where the wind takes us,” Noah says. “That’s the beauty of our job, we get to go to exotic locations, make amazing videos and now, spend our time with the most beautiful girl we’ve ever known.”

“I love you,” I tell them.

They pull me into their arms, and I resist reaching for the waistband of their pants, taking hold of their cocks, and giving into another group sex session. They are delicious but lengthy. Every time we start, we know the day––and night––is lost. And right now, I know we have a plane to catch.

“I better step away from you before things get out of control,” I say, laughing.

Noah wiggles an eyebrow. “We can get out of control once we get on the plane.”

I shake my head but know it’s the absolute truth. “That sounds perfect.”

The guys step back, adjusting themselves, and I feel so beautiful, so wanted, so adored. All four of these men get hard just hugging me.

I don’t know how I got so lucky.

How this fairy tale became my life.

But it did.

These men have proven they will do anything to protect me, and in return, I will love them with all my heart.Chapter 20ChloeBy the time we land in Tahiti, I’m exhausted. The flight from Jamaica was long and I didn’t get much sleep. Yes, perhaps the guys and I overdid it a bit, but it’s hard to pace ourselves. This relationship is still so new and there is so much unchartered territory when it comes to these men and me. And our bodies.

So, since we had a very long flight we had to take advantage of it. But it’s left me a little weak at the knees and slightly worn out.

As I disembark the plane, the fresh air of the tropical island overwhelms my senses. If I thought Jamaica was sex-on-a-beach romantic, it has nothing on Tahiti. As we jump in a Hummer and drive toward our lodgings, I see nothing but turquoise water, lush green plants, and a sun shining so bright I squint to see the road ahead of us.

“Here, take these,” Mason says, handing me my shades. I kiss him on the nose as a thank you and slip them on.

“Much better,” I say as Noah pulls into the resort where we’ll be staying. Getting out of the car, a bellman helps unload our bags and tells the guys that their sports gear is set to be arriving later this afternoon.

A woman in a sarong hands us tropical fruit cocktails, and I drink mine with a smile, taking in this exotic locale where I’ll be spending the next few weeks. The guys, though, all politely decline the alcoholic beverage. I try not to roll my eyes at their health-nut inclinations, and while I could be the supportive girlfriend who refuses in solidarity, I’m not quite that resolved. Instead, I grab another glass and take a sip.