The monsters are lunging at the bloody heap on the ground. The slurping sounds as they rip and suckle at the flesh echo in the still night. I dare not breathe. I dare not move. I want to do nothing to bring their attention upon me.

But I can’t watch. I can’t watch and hope to keep my sanity.

I take a step back. Then another. A pebble rolls, the tiniest of sounds, and yet they hear it. A pair of heads lift from the feast. Golden eyes fix on me, and the hairy wolf takes a step. I whimper, especially when I see the dark gaze of the other also eyeing me. I see no humanity in the bottomless depths.

Oh, no. I’m next.

I whirl and run. But I am too slow. Too human. They catch me. Shaking me in their grasp. Growling and snarling and…

“Chloe! Wake up, baby. It’s just a dream.”

“More like a nightmare, you idiot.”

Call it what they wanted, I was just glad it wasn’t real. I opened my eyes to see the very normal gazes of my lovers peering down at me with concern.

Pete, while scruffy and in need of a shave, didn’t sport great big canines. Anthony’s eyes blazed, but with a blue light, no sign of pointed incisors.

I wasn’t in bed with monsters. And the sooner I realized that, the faster I’d hopefully heal. Or so the psychiatrist I later saw twice a week claimed.

The rough pads of Pete’s fingers gently stroked the flesh of my arm. “Are you okay, baby?”

No. But I wanted to be. I didn’t reply to his query. I drew him down instead for a kiss. A stiff one initially, as the fear tried to keep its wily claws dug in. However, as the familiar feel of his mouth slanting over mine awakened my body, it also dissipated my trepidation.

I knew this man. He would never hurt me. I opened my mouth and let his tongue in.

On the other side, Anthony pressed his lips to my ear lobe, tickling it and sending shivers to course through my body. I only tensed a little when he moved his mouth to the soft skin of my neck. Thankfully, he didn’t suck at my skin as he usually did, probably a good thing in my still fragile state.

Softly, sensually, with a gentle passion we’d not often indulged in, they made love to me. I could even call it worshipped. I lay between them, an altar of flesh, and using their hands, mouths, tongues, they payed homage to me. Showed me they were capable of great tenderness. I needed that.

I needed them.

Selfish or not, I let them have their way. My participation limited to breathy gasps, the occasional arch of my body, the moisture pooling between my legs. When they both chose to lavish attention on a nipple, I threaded my fingers through the soft strands of their hair, noting the differences in texture as I stroked.

When hands pried my thighs apart, I didn’t peek to see whose cock stood poised to enter me first; however, I guessed it the moment the head speared me. Anthony kept his thrusts smooth and slow, pushing into me deep then withdrawing, while Pete continued to play with my breasts, the rough beard on his jaw abrading my skin, tenderizing it.

When Anthony came, I came with him, my body milking his cock with long, shuddering waves.

And then it was Pete’s turn. His thick endowment stretched the trembling walls of my channel, and I gasped, my hips arching. Wet, so very wet. I ached for more and he penetrated me with ease. Took up a cadence that pleasured me.

They wanted more from me, though. To my shock, I felt a tongue against my clit. I opened my eyes to see Anthony leaning forward, lavishing my nub with attention.

Dear gawd. How incredible. Sated once already, I couldn’t resist the erotic pleasure of having my pussy fucked while my clit got sucked. A second orgasm coiled within me. My breathing quickened, shortened until I fairly heaved to take in air. I couldn’t help but watch the erotic tableaux, both my lovers intent on my body. One thrusting, the muscles in his body rigid and slick with sweat, while the other, his slender fingers holding me decadently parted, let his tongue dance upon my most sensitive part.

I don’t know what I yelled when I came, but I’m sure it left their ears ringing.

When I regained enough of my wits to notice my surroundings, I found myself in a manwich, Pete to the left of me, Anthony to the right, and there I was, stuck in the middle of the two.

It made me think of a slogan I’d seen on a T-shirt when the government first began to tout the benefits of polygamy.

Two’s a couple, three’s the law.

Ready or not, and despite what I’d once thought, I had two men in my life. Men I loved. Men I trusted, yet didn’t. A life that frightened, and yet left me feeling alive. Did I know what the future would bring? No. Did I fear it? Damned right. But I couldn’t hide from it. I, Chloe, defender of the innocent—until proven guilty—would embrace my new life. Even if it killed me. And to those who wondered, I’d finally begun an infamous bucket list.

Item number one: Live each day like it might be your last.

Morbid, which is why number two was: Never skip dessert. Bring on the cheesecake.