In to Her

I take Logan’s cock as deep as I can. Deep enough to trigger my gag reflex when the tip of his head bumps up against the back of my throat.

But Logan is there to pet my wet hair and murmur encouragements. Things like, “You got this.” And “Yeah, I like that.”

And AJ fucks me slow. Or rather, lets me fuck him slow. Lets me find my own rhythm and set the pace. Lets me rise and fall on my own good time. Lets me lead.

So it’s nothing like it was downstairs. Which was rough, and fast, and desperate. Or even like it was in the bedroom. Which was a whole lot of kinky play with orgasms as the only goal.

I lose myself in the blow job. Sometimes even forgetting to fuck AJ. I close my eyes and just exist in the peaceful dream-world of slow sex.

But eventually Logan pulls his cock out of my mouth and AJ stands up, taking me with him. His large hands grip my ass as he walks forward and says, “Stand up and face Logan.”

So I do that. Automatically. No questions in my head to stop me. No second thoughts. Nothing but obedience.

Because I’m tired of being in charge. I’m tired of making decisions. I’m tired of life and I need someone to step in and just… tell me what to do. Just get me through things.

And these two seem more than willing to pick up my slack.

So I turn to face Logan and find him smiling. Which is a nice look for him. Even though I have no idea who this man is, I’ve seen enough of him today to understand he is hard.

Not the same way AJ is, either.

AJ is clearly the muscle of this team. A huge man with cannons for arms and a wide chest that, when he wraps his arms around me, feels like protection. And AJ is a joker. A guy who likes to laugh and smile.

Logan feels like the other end of the spectrum. Hard in a different way. Hard like a man who has to make big decisions. The suit, the frown, the almost-always squinting eyes as he evaluates things and comes to conclusions.

So this smile is good. It says a lot. It says, I’m having fun and fun isn’t something I usually have. It also says he wants more. More of me, at least.

Which I’m willing to give.

Because why not?

And let’s face it, he’s handsome. His hair is darker when it’s wet. And his body, while also muscular, like AJ’s, is different. Angular and cut like a sculpture. The low light in here catches all the lines of his body. The shape of his thighs and the hills and valleys that accentuate his six-pack abs.

I smile back at him. A real smile too.

“It’s my turn, I guess,” he says, grinning just a little wider.

And I know what that means. They’ve been fucking me different ways for hours now but Logan and I have not yet been face-to-face while he was inside me.

Fingers don’t count.

But something inside me likes this. And even though I just smile at him—and am still smiling now—it changes. Not the smile, exactly. The pleasure behind it.

It morphs into something, dare I say… real?

I admit, I get a stab of guilt deep inside my heart over that realization.

Because I smile all the time. I smile to customers, and vendors who deliver my alcohol. I smile at the locals who come in to check up on me. I smile at the TV every now and then. When I find a show that can make me forget who I am and what I went through.

But they are all fake. Every single one of them for the past year has been fake until right this second. Until this hard, angular man showed me something I’ve missed dearly.

Logan found his own joy in me. And even though it hurts so bad—to think of another man finding that kind of joy in me—I can’t afford to not appreciate it.

So I hope I’m forgiven for what I say next. Because I say, “It sure is your turn. I hope you make the most of it.”

His wide grin goes wider. His gray eyes shine with light, even though he is a dark man and everyone in this bathroom understands that.

AJ comes around behind me, leaning his back against the shower wall. The water is still luxuriously hot—thank you, brand-new tankless water heater—and the glass walls go all the way up to the ceiling so it’s literally a sauna in here. The air is thick with steam. Water beads up on our bodies, a combination of the still-raining shower head and various spray nozzles strategically positioned around the large enclosure, and the sweat that pours out of us like regrets and the repercussions of bad decisions.