41. The Party Crasher

Briar

My belly tightens once, twice. A familiar pressure that tightens. Pulses. Turns into a thrilling ache in my core.

A tantalizing promise.

Yes, please, yes.

I want this so badly. It feels so good. Everything. All of this. Hollis fucking and stroking. Rhys tugging my hair and squeezing my breasts. It's all so much. My mind is short-circuiting. My body is buzzing. It's like liquid silver and gold flowing through my veins. Colors burst behind my eyes.

But I can't stop watching the man in the chair. Gavin's fist is a blur, his hand flying over his hard length as he watches one man fuck me, the other man play with me.

I am the center of their world, all three men, and I am utterly overwhelmed.

Pleasure hits me like a tidal wave, and then, I shatter. From the center of my body out to my fingers, to my toes, to the ends of my hair, I break in bliss.

And it's spectacular here on the other side. It's like sex and magic and starlight all crashing into me. I'm floating on endorphins as adrenaline and joy spin inside my body. I'm so high on this sensation that it takes a few beats for me to fully realize Hollis is still fucking me.

His fingers dig into my hips as he drives into me on a savage grunt, jerking, shuddering, then unleashing a strangled, "Coming."

Seconds later, I swing my gaze back to the new guy, who's gritting his teeth as his fist flies. His eyes squeeze shut, then he spills all over his hand.

It's the hottest thing I've felt. The hottest thing I've seen. I'm surrounded by my guys coming.

Except Rhys.

My lovely, cheeky, thoughtful Rhys who's gotten zero attention for his beautiful cock tonight. The second Hollis pulls out, I move to my knees, grab Rhys's hips, and jerk him toward my face. "Give it to me," I urge.

He's as helpless to the lust as the rest of us.

"Take it," he says, feeding me his cock.

I open wide and let him fuck my mouth, knowing it won't take long till he's coming down my throat.

His hands rope through my hair, and he pumps. I nearly gag, but I nod for him to keep going, and he gives another thrust, then groans.

I taste his release—salty, musky, and all for me.

And when he eases out and comes down, he dips his face and kisses my mouth. He's tender—reverent even.

When he breaks the kiss, I look up at him and say, "Thank you."

My throat tightens with unexpected emotion. It's silly. Really, it is—to feel this overjoyed about something as meaningless, in the scheme of things, as an orgasm.

And yet I feel this wonderful connection with my body. Like my body is doing what it's supposed to do—playing nicely with my mind.

Not fighting it.

I swallow past the knot of emotions in my throat, fighting off the threat of happy tears. I'm not going to cry because I came. Deep breath.

I take another, then turn around to a woozy, happy Hollis and say, "Thank you too." My heart beats faster as I look at both of these men who were so determined to turn me on and send me over the cliff.

They made it happen even though tonight, it took a village. It took all of them to break my brain. To overwhelm my too busy mind. To shut off the noise.

I dare to look at Gavin again, and he's still breathing hard in that chair. "Umm…thanks for letting me crash your party," he says as he shifts around, probably looking for a tissue.

Yeah, I guess we all need to clean up. I look away, giving him what little privacy there is in this home to find one.

"Glad you got the hint," Hollis says to him as I hear the rustle of a Kleenex box.

"Took him long enough," Rhys remarks, then gives all his attention to me. "Let's get you cleaned up, love. You worked hard tonight."

Hollis soothes a hand up my back. "You did so good, baby."

"I feel so good," I say, my voice breaking for a few seconds.

I take another breath and stave off the flood of feelings, standing, looking for my clothes, something to cover up, to clean up. "I should shower," I say, then my stomach rumbles. "I guess I'm hungry too."

"We'll take care of that," Rhys says, and as I grab my sweatshirt and skirt, Gavin strides over, jeans buttoned, tissue tossed.

"Can I take her to the shower?"

He's not asking me. He's asking them. And there's something so respectful in the question. He's the welcomed party crasher, and sure, he swaggered in and hit the ground running. Now, he seems to sense he shouldn't just barrel into this new scene like a bull in a china shop.

Rhys smirks.

Hollis laughs, then says, "You're asking the wrong person."

There's nothing stoic in Gavin's expression anymore as he turns to me. The softness of his mouth shows real vulnerability. So does his tone as he asks, "May I?"