Blind Date (A Why Choose Romance)

CHAPTER THIRTY

ETHAN PAULSON

I’m not playing that game.

The guys would jokingly call me Captain America, and when Lewis, the most romantic one among us, carried Kay into the bedroom and left the door open, I did feel too pure and innocent for the setup.

I wanted to get up and shut the door. Giving them privacy was my first instinct. I’d never actually been in the same room as two other people who were fucking, if that was what they were going to do, so a part of me was curious.

Ty and Jake both sat back and stretched their legs out, grinning, looking smug and perfectly relaxed about the whole thing.

The three of us remained where we were, and from the noises alone, it was obvious what was happening in the bedroom.

Ty rubbed his crotch with the heel of his hand.

And I felt a mixture of embarrassed and turned on and fucking confused about the etiquette of being in that situation.

My mind raced, and I didn’t like where it went.

I couldn’t deny the sound of two people enjoying themselves in that way in the next room certainly turned me on. I’m only human. But I did like this, and it wasn’t what I anticipated. Three of us sitting around like we were in a waiting room ready to be called in when it was our turn.

Sorry.

No.

I wasn’t playing that game.

When I seduced a woman, it had to be the whole thing from start to finish.

I still thought our group could work, but perhaps on a one-man, one-date night basis. I didn’t want to listen.

Just as I was about to stand up, make my excuses, and leave. Jake stood up. He jerked his head and whispered, “Come on. Lewis will need a hand.”

Curiosity won out over better judgment, and I trailed into the bedroom behind Jake and Ty.

It didn’t look as if Lewis needed a hand. It seemed to me he was doing a grand job with Kay on her back, clawing at the sheets and his bare butt in the air and face up against her treasure trove. Jake and Ty started to peel off their clothes, nevertheless.

I saw no reason for me to join in, but also no reason to leave.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

KAYLA MARTIN

Who’s in control here?

From the minute they turned up uninvited in the middle of the night and declared their intentions, they had me as malleable as bread dough in their hands. I’d have done anything with them. For them. I felt liberated.

It turned me on to think that the other three could hear Lewis and me and that the bedroom door was open. It pleased me even more to see them trail into my room. It was like every one of my deepest, dirtiest desires might be about to come true. And those fantasies involved a lot more than just having sex with a group of men.

I was in charge of my life most of the time—the boss in my kitchen and in my own home. I wanted to give up control and let them take charge.

I loved the fact that three guys had entered the bedroom and seen me naked, vulnerable, and about to come. If that fact didn’t tip me over the edge, when they proceeded to take off their clothes too, revealing perfectly toned athletic bodies and huge erections, I just lost it, writhing under Lewis’s tongue. At the same time, his fingers fucked me to heaven.

Suddenly I was surrounded by naked, horny men who wanted me. And I wanted to serve them in every and any way they wanted. Letting them fuck my mouth, my pussy, and my ass in any way they liked.

Lucky for me. The guys seemed to know I wanted them to take charge.

“Come on up on your knees, girl,” Jake said, and he helped me into the position on all fours, so I only imagined and hoped they intended to take turns taking me doggy style.

Tyler guided my mouth to his cock, and I was vaguely aware of movement and murmuring behind me, but I couldn’t make out what was being said or what was going on.

It didn’t matter, and the fact that I could trust them like this felt great.

I simply enjoyed Tyler’s cock filling my face while aware that three guys behind me had a full-on explicit view of my turned on, and very wet pussy. I had no idea what would happen next. It thrilled me.

Then I felt fingers. Finger underneath me. Finding my nipples and squeezing them. More fingers feeling their way. Finding my sensitive clit and doing the same. Rubbing, plucking, teasing, pinching.

So many hands.

But they took their time.

They’d do things to me almost to the point at which I could take no more.

And then they’d stop, move away, and stroke some other part of my body.