Banks cracks a smile, his eyes saying words he once told me: Hell have mercy on my soul.
Yeah, the dirty response is right there, and I just say it, “Depends on how much you like sucking popsicles, string bean.”
She slugs my arm.
Pain shoots through my elbow, and I wince for real.
“Oh fuck—I’m so, so sorry, Kits.” Her hands fly to her mouth, then hover over my elbow I’m favoring. “It was just instinct—like I was on automatic. I didn’t think. Fuck.” She groans at herself.
“It’s okay.” I fling a strand of her hair at her face.
Amid her dirt-splotched cheeks, she turns an embarrassed shade of red.
Banks checks my elbow bandages. “It’s not bleeding.”
I slip him a thanks through my eyes.
He nods.
“Maybe you should recheck?” Sulli asks Banks. “Give it a closer fucking look?”
He does, more for her peace of mind. “He’s good to go.”
“But where will I go?” I tease and throw off my baseball hat.
“To hell, probably,” Banks quips. “See ya there.”
We smile, and our eyes plant on Sulli as I say, “Are we going to drag her down with us?”
“Only if she wants to go.”
Sulli is still hyper-focused on my elbow. “How can you guys crack jokes right now?” She doesn’t give us time to respond. “Does your arm hurt more, Kits? Be honest with me.”
“Not much more than it did, and hey, you’re the one who threw out the first joke.”
Her face twists in confusion.
“Popsicle dicks,” I tell her.
“I was being serious.” She wipes a smudge of dirt off her cheek. “You can’t deny that your dicks won’t freeze if you take bottled water showers out here.”
Banks runs a hand across his jaw. “I didn’t deny a thing.”
She holds onto her arms and shivers. She’s cold. I’m about to go really serious and stop the chatter, but she continues fast, “There’s enough warm water if we all just take a shower together.”
Shower together?
I didn’t think we’d go in that direction. My lips flat-line, and I look over her shoulder to Banks again. His eyes are on me.
A thousand questions spinning between us. Can we all three take a shower together? Yesterday, I would’ve probably said no.
But I’m spent. Exhausted. Emotionally, mentally, physically. I want the warm shower. I want Sulli to feel solid. I want Banks to not think about his brother he lost.
I want to shed the night. I want it gone and soaked in the water that falls to the earth.
“As friends,” I say.
“As friends,” Sulli nods and looks to Banks.
“As friends,” he agrees.
I watch as Sulli pulls the Camp Calloway tee over her head. Banks steps out of his pants, and I make quick work shedding my clothes. Until I’m in boxer-briefs like Banks, and Sulli stands in panties and a sports bra. All of us bandaged up. She stares down at her chest for a second, thinking something, and then suddenly, she tugs up and shimmies off her sports bra.
Her nipples are hard in the cold. Shit, I love her tits. She turns quickly to the makeshift shower. The sack of water still hangs from the tree branch. All three of us are shivering and gather close underneath the plastic spigot. She stands between us, facing Banks.
My pulse races. Does she feel more comfortable with him seeing her tits than me? Maybe because he’s already seen her naked while they were kissing. Yeah, maybe?
I shrug the thought off as I reach up. Pulling the string that opens the sack, a stream of water pours down on us.
Water is warm for point-five seconds, quickly chilling as soon as it hits my skin.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” Sulli curses and bounces on her feet. “It’s cold.” Her breath smokes the air.
“Let’s get this over with quick,” Banks says into a cringe.
After passing around a bar of soap and rinsing, we last less than a minute under the water before we’re darting out from the shower and into the tent.
No time to build a fire.
Sulli dives underneath a sleeping bag. Not crawling under, she uses the fabric more like a blanket. Her body trembles harder from the cold. Teeth chattering. Banks zips up the tent while I switch on a lantern dangling in the center of the tent, and I crawl to the right of her. I’m shivering, but not full-body shakes like Sulli here.
She groans out. “Why is it so fucking frigid?”
Banks lies down to the left of her. “Because mermaids don’t swim in ice.”
“That…we know…of,” she chatters, then blows out a breath. “I just want…to get…fucking…warm.”
“How are your popsicle nipples?” I ask her as I slide underneath my sleeping bag. Our legs skate near each other, and I can feel her goosebumps and prickle of hair.
“Probably harder than your popsicle dick.” Her green, green eyes descend to my crotch.
Shit.
Blood pumps through my body, muscles flexing, and I start to warm.
Banks fixes the snagged chain of his dog tags and tells me, “Sounds like a bet.” He has to know I’m seconds from sliding my hand over her tits, so I’m surprised he’s playing into this.
I don’t want any of it to end. “Definitely does,” I agree.
Sulli turns her head to Banks. “My nipples are way harder than your dick too.”
He eyes her chest, covered by a sleeping bag, and she eyes his crotch like she did mine.
For some reason, I don’t mind that she’s including him. I prefer it, even. Why? How? Maybe because in the quiet seconds between our easy banter, we’re just three people laid vulnerable and bare. Dirt washed off, cut open, and even as exhaustion pulls us, we choose to stay awake and bathe in the comfort of our companionship.
“And if they’re not harder?” Banks asks. “What do we get?”
Sulli shifts, her heat beginning to radiate towards me, and most likely him too. While she’s lying on her back, we’re lying on our sides. Facing her.
She keeps having to turn her head from side-to-side to look between us. “What do you want?” she asks.
Banks meets my gaze. “What do you want, Akara?”
Her.
But I don’t want to have sex with her from a bet. It’s not going to mean anything. “Bragging rights,” I say. “What do you want, Banks?”
“Bragging rights sound good to me.” He looks down at her. “And you, mermaid? What do you want if you win?”
“Bragging rights. Always.”
Banks takes one edge of her sleeping bag, and I take the other. We pull it down, exposing her bare breasts. She intakes a shuddered breath at the cold, and her pink nipples are perked.
This isn’t like the shower.
We’re not just friends here.
A tangible pulse beats in the air. Hums between the three of us. We’re less thoughts than we are feelings. All instinct and gut—and right now it’s telling me to keep going. To not let this night end, despite the lines we cross. The boundaries that blur.
It doesn’t much matter.
We neared death. We’re alive.
Isn’t that enough? What else really matters but us? Right here. Right now.
25
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
I’m still shivering, but I can’t decipher whether it’s the cold anymore or their eyes on my naked chest. They take a long time just staring, and my breathing deepens as I look between their heady gazes.
My body squirms with overwhelming desires and needs.
And then they both touch me at the same time. Akara’s thumb glides over my right nipple, while Banks’ presses down on my left. Oh fuck, the pressure and sensitivity feels amazing. A breath catches in my throat, my limbs vibrating with pleasure and something deeper that I can’t pinpoint. The something deeper that I feel—I sink into, like soft feathers nestled and cuddled around me.
Don’t forget the bet.
; Don’t forget the bet!
I hear the loud chant in the competitive part of my brain. Right. I have a fucking job to do.
Reaching out a hand to Banks and Akara, I fumble against their bare thighs without looking. Trying to find their dicks.
Banks is first to help me. He takes my hand and places my palm on top of his boxer-briefs. My fingers curl around his rock-hard shaft. Fuck, he’s much harder than my nipples.
Akara clasps my right hand and slides my palm up to his thigh, then his crotch. His bulge is beyond firm. I stroke him twice, and his muscles contract.
What would they feel like inside of me? Is it so different from a toy? Just imagining them so close, my pussy throbs. I shouldn’t picture both, should I?
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.
“Oh fuck,” I curse, about to cover my eyes but my wrist jerks in Akara’s hold. He keeps my arm pinned, and I drink in the way he has me. The way they have me so completely in their care. Being able to open myself and give myself to people I trust is more freeing than I ever realized.
I feel like I’m flying.
Like I’m powerful. In-fucking-vincible. Able to transcend time and place and reason.
Akara shifts his own hand off my thigh.
I have trouble trying to see Banks’ reaction and Akara’s. I try to watch both guys at once. My breath hitches as Akara moves his hand up to my pussy. They’re not both going inside me, are they? And then I feel his thumb circle my throbbing clit.
I moan.
Akara curses under his breath.
Banks picks up speed. My legs begin to tremble and sweat builds on my skin. Their kisses return—Akara focuses on my nipples, teasing and sucking. Banks closes his lips on the soft flesh of my neck, then up to my lips. Every sensitive bud, sensitive spot feels lit by these two men.
I’ve never drowned before today.
I’m drowning in them. By them. With them.
A whimper leaves me, and their groans rumble the air. Instinctively, I rock against Banks’ hand while he fills me. Thrusting into him and Akara. I want more pressure. I want my world to be set on fire. I want to forget everything that happened before this tent. I want there to be nothing but after this moment.
Reaching down with my only free hand, I touch the top of Akara’s hand. I touch Banks’ wrist, his fingers lost inside me. They both quicken speed suddenly like they’re racing each other.
“Fuckfuck,” I cry, so wet, almost there, almost there.
Pleasure mounts until my limbs quake, and my whole body tenses in a thundering climax. Toes curl and back arches even higher. I grip onto Banks’ wrist while Akara’s grip tightens on mine. An orgasm ripples through me, and they both slow their movements until I’m too sensitive to touch.
I try and catch my breath.
Banks kisses my lips in one beat.
Akara kisses my shoulder, then cheek in the next. “I’ll be back.” He releases my wrist, and I grab onto the first thing I can to stop him—which happens to be his hand between my thighs. His fingers brush against my palm, and they’re slick with my wetness.
Our eyes latch. “Don’t go,” I breathe.
Banks has
a hand on my thigh still and he pats it. “We’ve got to take care of some things, mermaid.”
“I can take care of you both,” I say in a frown. “Don’t you want me to?”
“This was for you,” Akara refutes.
Banks nods more than once.
Maybe it’s a pride thing. They want to be sure this wasn’t all about their needs but solely about pleasing me. And I get that, but the sun has been down for a while. It’s freezing outside now. “You both can get off here, can’t you? Don’t run off into the cold. Please.”
Akara lets out a breath and sinks back down beside me. I don’t let go of his wrist. “You sure?” he asks.
“Fucking positive, Kits.” I glance to Banks. “You too.”
“Turn on your side,” Banks instructs and helps me roll onto my side. Back turned to Banks. Chest towards Akara. All of us lie underneath the sleeping bags, so I can’t see their movements. But I can feel them shift as they tug themselves.
Not seeing Banks stirs me even more. It feels forbidden, only kept safe in my imagination. I know he’s there jerking off, but I can’t even look at his face while he’s doing it. His building heat warms me beneath the sleeping bag.
I glance to Akara and then he does something unexpected.
He covers my eyes with his palm.
Can’t see him either.
Only hear their heavy breaths. Their grunts.
Feel the shifting of the sleeping bag.
I reach down and start touching myself. We’re all pleasure in this tent.
We’re all alive.
Breath. And body. And life.
26
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
“You need stitches,” Farrow doesn’t even hesitate with the diagnosis once he removes Akara’s bandages with gloved hands and sees the damage to his shoulder blade and elbow. “You should’ve called me last night.”
Tattooed and pierced, Farrow Redford Keene Hale is usually casual and cool, unruffled by little, except when Moffy is hurt. His severity now is a knife to my heart.
Maximoff turns his head from Akara to me. His concern pummels me for the second time. The first was when Banks, Akara, and I showed up at the RV campgrounds carrying all our gear while covered in bandages and scratches. Clearly banged up, we couldn’t hide the cougar attack.
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