And it was like Jason could read my mind, his blue eyes filled with pain.
“Because you loved it Katy,” he said then, his voice a hoarse rasp. “You were with Brent and you loved it. I could hear it in your cries, I could hear it in your pants, your everything, and I couldn’t take it because … I wanted to be your first,” he said brokenly.
The admission blew all resistance out of me, the fight draining from my body. I took a deep breath before exhaling, heart pounding in my throat. Because here we were, back to square one, my “brother’s” stark admission that he wanted me, that he’d lusted after my curves, that knowing I’d been with our guardian had driven him over the edge, made him so desperate, so angry, that he’d only come back once he was sure he wouldn’t pound down the trailer walls.
And to be honest, it was good that Jason took his time because Brent and I hadn’t finished in the shower, the big man had carried me into his bedroom, sopping wet, and we’d explored a bit more, me sitting on his face, him lapping at my folds until I came again, hard, my creaminess gushing all over his chin, streaming down his cheeks to coat the coverlet. There was no penetration that second time even though I’d begged him to put it in, positively pushed my pussy against his pole, trying to catch his dick tip in me. But Brent had chuckled deeply, slapping me on the ass, giving me a last lick on my snatch and telling me that I’d be “too sore” despite my protests.
The memory made me cheeks flush once more, body growing hot, soft with need once again. But there was still this problem with Jason, this messed-up situation on our hands. So I shot him a quick look, my gaze gentle.
“So what’s next?” I asked softly, my voice conciliatory. “What do we do next?”
Jason let out a masculine harrumph, a deep-throated moan of disgust.
“Either I move out, or I cut off my dick …” he began.
“No!” I cried, a small palm flying to his strong forearm, a fluttery touch against his hardness. “No, don’t go, that’s not necessary.”
We both looked at my hand, how it was so tiny, so white against his thickly muscled forearm.
“What do you want me to do then?” Jason ground out, eyes burning into mine, body tense. “There’s nothing else I can do,” he said, shaking his head furiously, voice thick, eyes dropping to look down, away, refusing to meet mine.
And I felt hope well in me then, a great cresting of need, a desire to be together.
“Well maybe …” I began.
Jason didn’t look at me, still gazing out the window, his body tense with power and energy, despite his refusal to answer.
“Maybe,” I swallowed, continuing once more. “You could share?”
The big man’s head whipped around then.
“Share?” he rasped, disbelieving? “What do you mean, share?”
I colored, flushing once more, my nipples growing tight.
“I mean,” I said hesitantly. “There’s only one of me, and two of you, but I’m okay with you know … sharing.”
Jason just shook his head at me.
“What the fuck makes you think that either Brent or I would be okay with sharing?” he ground out. “I don’t share, and I know Brent fucking doesn’t either.”
I shook my head determinedly this time.
“It’s my body,” I said softly, taking a deep breath, “and if both of you want in on the goods then you’re gonna have to share,” I said firmly.
There was no sound from Jason this time.
“Have you told Brent this?” he asked slowly.
I took that as a good sign. Jase wouldn’t have asked the question if he wasn’t okay with it himself on some level or another.
“No,” I admitted, shaking my head. “No, because this is all a surprise,” I said slowly. “I mean, I only lost my virginity yesterday and now … I had no idea that there were two men interested,” I finished.
Jason snorted then.
“Really, no idea?” he drawled, eyeing me up and down, letting his gaze trail over my generous breasts, my tiny waist and wide hips. Oh god, I’d felt sassy this morning, my first day as a non-virgin, and had dressed sexier than usual. Instead of my regular jeans and loose t-shirt, today I was wearing a tight baby tee with a denim skirt that was perfectly fine when you were standing. But here, sitting in the cab, the skirt had pulled up so that the fabric just brushed the bottom of my pussy, my generous thighs on display, creamy, white, spread against the leather of the seat. And oh god, if you looked closely, you could even see the fabric of my tiny pink panties, peeping out just a bit. Flushing, I squirmed, trying to pull down the skirt, which just made it worse. If anything, the fabric inched up more, displaying more of the panties and the tiny damp spot right between my legs.