Dwayne's hand is possessive on my hip, sliding down just slightly to cup my ass. "You know how to work this," he says, squeezing.
"You know how to work it too," I laugh, gazing down at the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt, which leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. His pecs are so rounded I could sleep on them like a pillow, and his abs are tight enough for me to wash clothes against the old-fashioned way.
"I don't know how you're hugging her against you like that, all sweaty from training," Donovan says screwing up his nose.
"She loves it, don't you, Maggie?" Dwayne laughs, so unbelievably confident in himself, and why shouldn't he be? He's got the goods to back up his bravado.
I swat his pec, scowling. "You boys all need a shower."
"Why, when you're just going to get us all messy after?" Dwayne leans down, grazing my jaw with his full lips. "We can make you feel good, Maggie. So damned good."
And I believe him. Just that tiny contact has warm heat spilling through me, pooling between my legs.
Past Dwayne, I can see Donovan and Daryl watching their brother intently. Is this what they do? One of them makes a move, and the other two waits to see if they're successful. Or maybe they usually hunt alone. I don't know why I imagine that this sharing thing is something they do on the regular. It's just that Dwayne seems so comfortable, teasing my neck and the sensitive spot behind my ear while his brothers watch.
Two sets of intense brown eyes are taking everything in. Daryl rubs his shoulder absentmindedly while Donovan has his hand in his pocket. They look relaxed, but as my eyes slide down the length of their magnificent bodies, the evidence of their arousal is there in full force.
"So, can we, Maggie? Can we make you feel good? Cos looking at you in this tight little dress has had my cock twitching all day."
"Dwayne. Chill out. Maggie's not into that dirty talk."
"Maggie likes it, don't you? Sweet on the outside and naughty on the inside. All the best girls are."
He whispers so close to my ear that I shudder, and he knows it because I feel his smile against my skin as his hands span my waist. My mouth is so dry with anticipation that I can't speak. Words have never been my friends. Too many times, I've said things that have ended up ruining relationships or wrecking moments. Maybe actions are better. They can't be misconstrued so easily. They put a point across so much better.
I close my eyes and allow myself to relax into the moment. Three men stand waiting to show me exactly what they want from me. Three men wait to prove that they can be what I need and to find out if I can be the same for them. I slide my hands over Dwayne's biceps, feeling the muscles twitch at my touch. He exhales in a rush against my neck, mouth finding mine, and the press of his soft lips is heaven. In the darkness, behind my eyelids, I can escape into a place where I'm not grieving for my father or pretending to know how I'm going to cope with raising a child. I can imagine that the man kissing me knows my heart and loves it and that this is more than just a physical release. I can hope that the dream these men have for a future together could really include me at the center.
As I'm drifting in my fantasy world, Dwayne lifts me, carrying me from the kitchen and up the stairs like a bride. His eyes don't leave mine, chocolate irises almost blackened by pupils wide with lust. I touch his face, the skin of his cheek so soft, the shaven skin of his scalp rough under my palm.
I wonder who he looks like. With sloping almond eyes, broad noses, full lips, and soft brown skin, the triplets could be a mix of heritages. Who do they look like, these beautiful boys with lighthearted souls and bodies made for sin?
Behind us, Daryl and Donovan are silent. There's a tension in the air that maybe they, too, don't want to disturb with chatter. It's an intensity of intention that makes my whole body fizz. Dwayne carries me to a room at the back of the house. I think it's extended because the ceiling, which is high as we enter, lowers to the far side as the roof slopes. There are three beds, all covered with black comforters. The floor is painted boards, and posters of famous ballplayers hang on the walls.
"Welcome to our lair," Dwayne says, lowering me to my feet. As I turn to take in more of my surroundings, I feel his finger searching for the top of my zipper, sliding it down. He runs a finger down my spine, slowly following the route the zipper took, sending sensation careering over my skin. He pushes my hair over my shoulder, kissing the back of my neck slowly. Donovan and Daryl come around the front, Donovan peeling the black fabric over my shoulders and easing it over my hips until it drops in a pool at my feet. Daryl caresses my stomach, my hips, my thighs, mapping all the places I have curves.