Chapter 15

15

T he moment right before a first kiss is one of my favorite parts of the human experience. Hearts racing. Held breath. Flushed cheeks. Anticipation buzzing in the air like electricity. Dylan draws the moment out in an exquisite form of torture. Fingers sliding into the hair at the base of my neck and tugging gently. His nose skimming along my jawline. The puff of breath against the shell of my ear. A trembling palm cupping my cheek. His thumb sweeping over my cheekbone, my eyebrow, my lips. He leans forward, his hips pressing me into the wall.

"Dylan, please."

"Let me enjoy my last first kiss, Isla."

I want to protest, insist that he can't possibly know I’m his last, but the fire burning for me in his eyes holds me captive, flames licking over my body, branding me. He tilts my face, brushing his lips over the corner of my mouth.

"Do you feel it?" He presses his forehead to mine.

"Like fate is holding her breath, waiting?" I whisper, my voice shaky.

"You two need to move it along,” a deep voice says, pulling us back to reality. Dylan takes a step back, turning to face the police officer. Heat rises like a tsunami, turning my cheeks crimson. The police officer winks at me, tipping his hat before continuing on his way.

"Oh my god. How embarrassing." I cover my cheeks with my hands, utterly mortified.

"We’ll have a good story to tell our kids one day,” he laughs, raking his hands through his hair.

"Dylan!"

"I'm teasing, Freckles." His eyes dance, the sun turning them amber. "Come on, we only have a couple of hours left."

My stomach twists. A couple of hours isn’t nearly enough. "Why don't we stay in the city tonight? As long as we leave early, I'll be back in time to open tomorrow."

"You’re sure?"

I study him, hearing the hesitation in his voice. "Are you trying to get rid of me that quickly?" I tease.

"I don't want to put you in a situation where you feel something more is expected of you."

"You’re the sweetest, Dylan. Thank you." He smiles, his hand enveloping mine as we head to the next pub.

The World’s End is ancient and dark. The calendar hanging just inside the door is jam-packed with events—everything from live music to karaoke to board game nights. We sit in a private corner booth with a clear view of the stage, where a DJ is busy setting up.

"Are you familiar with any of the hotels around here?" Dylan asks, handing me the menu.

"My friend owns Dores Inn, which is right on the banks of Loch Ness. They rent out a couple of rooms on the side. I can text her and see if she has one available."

"One?"

Oh god. Now I'm the one that's making him feel like I expect something from him. "If–If that's okay with you?" I stammer.

"Sharing a hotel room with the girl of my dreams? How will I ever survive?" He rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips .

Good beer and better conversation flow for hours until we find ourselves ending the night on stage singing “Islands in the Stream” at the top of our lungs. It’s perfect.

The room at the inn is tiny, but perfect for one night. While I’m washing up, Dylan makes himself a spot on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” I protest, weaving my hair into a loose braid.

“I can’t control myself in my sleep, Isla. I won’t take the chance that we wake up in a compromising position without meaning to.”

I swear, I fall a little more every time he opens his mouth. I turn off the lamp and strip down to my bra and panties, shivering as I slide between the cool sheets. The only light in the room is a sliver of moonlight slicing across the ancient floorboards.

"How does it work exactly?" I ask, the darkness making me brave.

"How does what work?"

"Sharing a woman. Do you take turns?" I hold my breath while I wait for his answer.

"That depends on the woman and what she wants."

"Oh." I was hoping for more detail.

"What do you want, Isla?"

“What are my options?" I stare at the ceiling, my heart beating like a base drum.

"You could schedule us in. Each of us gets a different night."

"That sounds awful." I think I hear him sigh with relief, but I can’t be sure.

"The other option is we share a bed."

"But how does it work, exactly? The three of you are brothers, which is vastly different from the relationship Charlie and the guys share."

"It just means that all of our attention is focused on you all of the time. "

The idea of six hands and three tongues focused on me has delicious heat suffusing my body, settling between my legs.

"What goes where?" I croak, sliding my hand over my breast and squeezing, desperate to relieve the ache. "I'm not a prude, but I've never..." I trail off, not sure how to say what I mean.

"Fucked three guys at once?" Dylan finishes, his voice husky, the rasp tugging the thread of desire tethering us together.

"Yes, that," I whisper.

"It depends..."

"On what?"

"God, Isla, you're going to be the death of me."

I hear his zipper, and the butterflies in my stomach go wild. I force myself to stay still instead of crawling to the end of the bed to see what he's doing. Instead, I slide my hand down over my stomach, running my fingers lightly along my slit over my underwear.

Dylan clears his throat. "It depends on if you like to be fucked in the ass," he says, his voice strangled.

"That's still only two holes." I bite back a whimper as I press my fingers on either side of clit, rocking my hips.

"One of them stretches, Isla."

I push my underwear aside, sinking two fingers inside me, wondering how it would feel to be filled like that. For all three of them to be using my body to find release. I squeeze my eyes closed, too turned on to care about the moan that slips from my lips or the creak of the bedframe as I dig my heels into the mattress.

"Isla." Dylan whispers my name, his voice breaking. I open my eyes to see his shadow standing at the end of the bed.

"Dylan!" I shriek, pulling my hand away and clamping my legs closed. My gaze drops to the movement of his arm. I reach over and turn on the lamp, feeling like I may die if I can't see all of him. My breath catches in my throat as I watch him slide his hand up and down his cock, pre-cum glistening at the tip, begging for me to taste it. His gaze pins me in place, forcing me to make a choice. Shut this down or see it out. I hold our eye contact as I pull off my panties, barely able to breathe. I prop myself up against the headboard, my legs glued shut.

"Open them, Isla. Show me what you like."

Oh god. Is this really happening? I watch his hand twisting over his cock, his thumb sweeping over the head, then dragging down to pulse where the shaft and head meet. My knees fall open.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he groans, the muscles in his abdomen clenching. "Show me how you touch yourself."

My breath shudders out of me as I slide my fingertip down my slit, then back up, circling my clit. I push two fingers inside, feathering them over my G-spot, my vision going fuzzy.

"Good girl,” he rasps, jaw clenching, nostrils flaring.

I hold my hand out to him, daring him to come closer.

"That's a bad idea, Isla," he pants, his gaze focused on the moisture dripping down my fingers.

"It's the best idea," I promise. I bring my hand toward my mouth, but he grabs my wrist first.

"Mine,” he growls, sucking my fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue over and between them until he’s consumed every last drop. There's nothing quite like watching your man's eyes roll back when he tastes you for the first time–that visceral reaction with no pretense. His muscles ripple, control fracturing. "Isla." He falls to his knees beside the bed, looking up at me, only a sliver of his iris showing.

"We haven't even kissed yet," I whisper, my body moving without my permission until my ass is at the edge of the bed, not even a foot separating his face and the apex of my thighs.

"This will be the best first kiss of your life. I just need your permission first." He presses my knees wide, his moan ratcheting the tension higher. "You're so goddamned beautiful." His cheek scrapes along my inner thigh as he pulls my legs over his shoulders, a shaky breath puffing against my sex. "It's your call, Isla."

"Yes. Yes, Dylan. Kiss me." He doesn't waste a single moment, pushing my knees up toward my chest and licking me from asshole to clit in one long, velvety swipe.

"Fuck!" I bite the base of my thumb, my back bowing. "What is it with you guys and my ass?" I gasp, nearly melting off the bed as he feathers his tongue over the puckered skin.

"With three of us, every hole gets equal treatment." His lips vibrate against my skin, driving me wild. I push my fingers into his hair, pressing my hips into the bed until his tongue centers on my clit. Keeping my grip tight on his hair, I rock my hips against his mouth. Two fingers nudge at my pussy, slowly working their way in. The first brush of his fingers against my G-spot has me jerking in his arms. He presses harder, curling his fingers into my inner wall.

"Dylan, stop! That always makes me feel like I'm going to pee."

He stops immediately. "You just went pee, remember?"

"Then why does it feel like that?"

"Because the same muscles are involved. You need to stop thinking and just let yourself feel. It will be amazing."

"You promise I won't pee on you?"

"I promise. And even if you did, I'd be lying if I said that didn't turn me on." His wink has me melting back into the bed. I pull his head back between my legs, whimpering as he drives his tongue into me. He flattens one hand over my stomach, feeling every little jerk and gasp as I fall apart.

"I never want this to end," he whispers, slick lips moving against me, teeth scraping over tender flesh.

"Dylan, please," I beg, writhing against his mouth. He pushes two fingers into me, slowly sliding his tongue back and forth over my clit as he massages that spot inside me. It feels so fucking good. The urge to pee comes back, but I ignore it, focusing on the way his tongue is worshipping my clit, how his fingers stretch me, the way his hand holds me in place while he's eating me out like he's a lion and I'm his prey. Ecstasy batters me from all sides, stealing all of my other senses. My vision goes black. There’s a high-pitched ringing in my ears as he drags me higher, forcing my body to do things it never has before.

"That's my girl. Let go. Feel," he urges, licking me once, twice, and then fitting his lips over me, sucking my clit into his mouth and increasing the pressure inside me.

"Come for me, Isla," he rasps, his voice like sandpaper. With the next pull of his mouth, I explode in his hands, waves of ecstasy wracking my body. I scream his name as my back bows, my thighs clenching around his head. He follows my lead, not letting up until I'm lying there boneless, my chest heaving.

Dylan stands, wiping his dripping face on his shirt, looking down at me with dark eyes. "God, your tits are fucking gorgeous. I'm sorry I didn't pay them any attention." He leans over me, his cock trapped between us as he pulls the cup of my bra down and drags his tongue over my nipple.

"Let me get you there." I rake my fingers through his hair, moaning as he draws me into his mouth.

"Tonight is all about you, Isla."

"Dylan, you'll be miserable."

"It's worth it." He moves to my other breast, palming and squeezing it, fluttering his tongue over my nipple until I'm pushing up for more. I make a split-second decision, hooking my heels around the back of his legs and pulling, his weight falling on me as his knees buckle. His grunt turns into a groan as I rub my clit against the underside of his cock.

"Kiss me, Dylan."

His lips crash against mine, his control splintering. He pushes his tongue into my mouth, moaning as I angle my head and deepen the kiss. He rocks his hips, his cock sliding in my moisture, riding up and down my slit.

"Fucking hell, Isla." He pulls away, chest heaving. "You must think I have the control of a saint." I wrap my legs around him, digging my heels into his ass, refusing to let him go. "Open your eyes, Isla. I want you looking at me when you come, know whose cock you're rubbing yourself on and how fucking crazy you make me."

The second our gazes lock, he drops his weight on me, his cock sliding between my lips, the ridge of his head catching on my clit. One wrong move and he'll be inside me. I sob his name as he pulses over that swollen bundle of nerves, fracturing me into a million pieces. Need flares in his eyes, desperation lining his face. His balls tighten against my pussy, his body trembling with restraint. The shadow of indecision disappears, our mouths meeting in a war of teeth and tongues. One more thrust and he surrenders, hips spasming against mine, hot cum spurting onto my stomach.

He peppers kisses along my collarbone as we come down from the high.

“That was so hot,” I pant, trying to catch my breath.

“Just wait,” he chuckles, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I prop myself up on my elbows, admiring his ass as he walks to the bathroom and returns with a warm washcloth.

"Sorry," he murmurs, gently wiping my stomach.

"Why are you sorry?"

"The mess."

"What if I told you I would rub it in like lotion if it were socially acceptable?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Then I would say that's hot as fuck." He tosses the washcloth into the bathroom sink and then hops in bed with me, shivering as he wraps his arms around me. "I'm glad that was my last first kiss because nothing will ever top that." He tucks his face into my shoulder, his breath tickling the nape of my neck.

Tears prick my eyes, the corners of my mouth pulling up into a tentative smile. Maybe–just maybe–this will actually work. Could this be it? My forever? I fall asleep to dreams of extra large beds, tangled limbs, and lazy mornings filled with coffee and laughter.