Wild Like Us (Like Us 8)

One day soon, I’m going to give out a final rose to only one man, and it’s not fair to the guy I pick or the one I let go to be attached to both. But with what happened tonight—feeling like I lost Banks and Akara—I just want to hold onto each of them.

So maybe I’m fucking selfish. Maybe I’m doing the wrong thing and this’ll come back to bite me later on, but tonight, this feels like the best, most right thing I could ever do.

None of us stop.

I run my fingers along their lengths, feeling the fabric molding them.

Their breath comes heavier.

Akara’s thumb still circles my nipple like Banks’. Softly, Akara whispers, “You’re still shaking, Sulli.”

“I’m still cold.” I take a breath. “And now other things too.”

Banks strokes my hair out of my face. “What kind of things?” he asks, taking his hand off my boob the same time as Akara. Like they’re planning this. Coordinating and in sync. Too many times, I’ve caught them speaking to each other through their eyes.

Bodyguard talk. Most in security have the speak-through-eyes talent, but I think the closer they are as friends, the easier it is and the more I see them do it.

Without their touch and with the air hitting my exposed skin, I shiver more. What kind of things? “You do know virgins can get horny, right? I’m not immune to nipple flicking. That kind of thing.”

My hands rest casually on their packages, and I feel their dicks twitch at my words. I can’t help but smile. Wind pounds at the tent, and a chill snakes through me along with the gathering heat between us.

“So you’re horny,” Banks says huskily.

My pulse drops to my pussy as if complying with his words. His eyes set on me in a way that steals my breath. He’s older. More experienced. I’m sure he’s aroused plenty of women. I’m not his first, even if he might be mine.

“And you’re cold,” Akara adds. Cold sounds more like ready on his lips. His gaze makes me feel utterly naked like there’s no sleeping bag on top of my waist. His playful side has switched off in favor of something more serious and sensual.

“Really horny. Really cold…both those things, yeah,” I manage to say. Probably ineloquently. How does one wax poetic soliloquies at a dreamy moment?

I have no idea. I’m not perfect with words. I’m just untamed feelings.

Not in my head enough to even be embarrassed, I just say what I’m thinking. “I feel like my skin has been shed over and over tonight, and I need warmth and something or someone to hold it together before it reaches the bone. I just…I want to be touched. Like really touched.” My voice comes out choked at the last part.

They both slide closer until their bodies are flush against mine. I almost turn on my side, but Akara puts his hand on my abdomen to stop me. “Stay right here,” he whispers into my ear. His forehead pressed against my temple. “We’re going to touch you, Sulli.”

Very softly, Banks asks, “How far have you gone with someone before?” His deep voice is one of the most soothing sounds in the night. Lulling me into comfort, into those feathers. A loving, protective embrace—what I’ve always wanted in carnal moments like this.

And it’s not just here once.

I feel it twice.

“Just kissing,” I say in a single breath. “That’s all I’ve really done with someone.”

They nod, and they share another look. Maybe telling each other to be careful with me. Maybe just recognizing that being touched is big and new for me, and I want it. God, do I fucking want it and them and their hands and overpowering, tremendous, can-barely-breathe affection.

Banks blows his breath into his hand, warming it before he lets his palm travel down my inner-thigh. He pulls my thigh back against him. Akara does the same with my right thigh. They spread me open.

My heart beats loud in my ears, and Banks plants a soft kiss at my neck. Akara’s lips trail up my ribcage to my breast. His tongue teases my perked nipple. Fuck yes, yes, yes. They both knead the flesh at my thighs, near my heat but not satiating that spot. My need grows, and I writhe.

I squirm, feeling wetness gather. My back arches for them. Wanting more touch, more warmth, more emotion and feeling. No emptiness. No loneliness. No nothingness.

My hands have slipped off their dicks, and I go to reach for Banks’ head. Anything to hold onto. Swiftly, Akara snatches my wrist midair. Clutching it tight, he pulls my hand above my head.

Banks watches my lips as they part in an aroused breath. And then his warmed fingers slide underneath my panties. Yes.

And between my folds. Slowly, he slips a finger inside of me, pumping in a come hither motion. Feeling him there, the fullness, the pressure, the sensation—I dizzy and buck up again. He watches my movements like he’s studying my reaction, my arousal, and he discovers a sensitive spot, creating mind-altering friction—my legs twitch.