Tate

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I woke up with a dry-mouth and far less of a headache than I’d anticipated. Usually, after a night like I’d had, I’d be disoriented for a minute, trying to figure out where I was and what had happened and all that.

Not this time.

For some reason, I woke up totally lucid, and I remembered everything.

Like…everything.

Including being in the lake, splashing around, which had turned into an epic water fight, and then somehow I’d ended up tangled up with a hard male body, and at first I’d assumed it was Corin, but then as grabbing and wrestling and playing had turned into something decidedly else, decidedly more, I’d realized it wasn’t Corin.

It had been Canaan.

And I’d kept going.

Yeah, I’d been drunk, really drunk, and so was he. So was Corin, so was Aerie. We were all wasted, and that kind of stuff happens when you’re wasted, right?

Shit.

I kept my eyes closed and pushed those thoughts out of my head—I wasn’t ready to process that stuff yet.

Instead, I focused on my present circumstance: naked, wrapped up in a quilt, with Corin behind me, spooning me.

And there was something large and hard and thick and hot wedged between the cheeks of my ass. One of his hands was resting on my hipbone, and the other was nestled between my breasts…and I was clinging to that hand of his with both of mine. His mouth was pressed against my shoulder blade, and his chest was rising and falling evenly, heavily. He wasn’t quite snoring, but he was making an adorable little noise in his throat on each exhale, and something about that noise, the vulnerability of it, the cuteness of it…it just hit me right in the heart.

I’d slept with Corin.

Like, slept slept. All night. And now I’m waking up with him.

Another first for me. I wondered if it was a first for him, too. I hoped it was; I wanted this to be as special for him as it was for me.

My bladder was telling me I’d have to get up soon, and my mouth was telling me I needed a drink, but I was too warm, too comfortable, and too happy in this moment to bother moving. So I didn’t. I just stayed there, drowsy and contented, trying to ignore Corin’s erection. Which…wasn’t easy, not with it being as huge and prominent as it was, and not placed where it was, wedged tight between my butt cheeks.

I heard Corin sniff and then sigh sleepily. His hand tightened on my hip, and his other hand flexed between my breasts. His feet wiggled, twisting and stretching, and then his hips flexed a little.

“Mmmm.” His voice told me he was awake, but barely.

“Hi,” I whispered, as quietly as I could.

“Hi.” He was more awake now, and I think he was becoming aware of the intimacy of our position.

“Sleep good?” I asked.

“Best night of sleep ever.”

“Me too,” I said. Then, after a long pause, I huffed a quiet laugh. “Someone else is awake.”

He pushed his hips into my butt, grinding against me. “No kidding.”

“Again, I wish we were alone.”

“Fucking hell, T. Me too.” He shifted his hand so he was cupping my breast. “I like waking up like this, though.”

“Me too, Cor. A lot.”

His lips brushed the shell of my ear. “I want you to know something, Tate.”

I twisted to lie on my back, tugging the quilt up to my chin, meeting his intense brown gaze. “What’s that?”

“That was the first time I’d ever just slept with anyone.”

My heart leapt. “Me too, actually. I was just thinking about that, before you woke up.”

He propped his head on his hand. “Yeah? What were you thinking?”

I lifted one shoulder. “Just that…” I trailed off, unsure of my next words.

God, how much did I tell him? How deep was I willing to go?

Fuck it. Right? I mean, this opportunity may never come around again. If this was just physical chemistry, if we ended up going our separate ways again, our friendship was very definitely never going to be the same. So what did I have to lose by being honest with him, especially if our friendship was already permanently altered in some way or another?

Not a damn thing.

What did I have to gain by telling him what I’d been thinking?

A lot.

The possibility of finding that person I’ve been waiting for, hoping for—that person I could trust myself to. Was it Corin? I had no way of knowing that. But the happiness I felt just in waking up in his arms? That was a pretty strong signal that the possibility at least existed. Which we’d never really be able to explore if we were both tiptoeing around our feelings and keeping things to ourselves.

I was about to open up with all this, when Corin started talking. “I’ll tell you what I’m thinking first, if it’ll make it easier for you,” he said. “I’ve never slept with anyone, not like this. Which means I’ve obviously never woken up with anyone like this. And…it’s intense, T, the way I feel about this. Like, it’s not just about how much I like waking up with a seriously fucking sexy woman naked in my arms— which is pretty goddamn epic. It’s…it’s that it’s you. It’s a feeling of…I’ve never felt this happy to just…to just wake up.” He chuckled. “Even with a hangover.”

I sighed in relief. “Thank god you said that, Cor. Because that’s how I’m feeling.”

His hand traced over my stomach, his fingertip circling my navel, then sliding up to my diaphragm and between my breasts. “I want to wake up with you like this…a lot. And I want to wake up with you like this in a situation where we can just…”

“Indulge?” I suggested, tracing the grooves of his abs. “Do whatever we want, for as long as we want to?”

“Exactly.” He hesitated. “You know how we woke up.”

I snorted gently. “You mean, with your dick between my ass cheeks?”

“Well, yeah, more or less, although I was referring to the more general positioning. Waking up spooning like that…”

I caught what he was getting at. “I’ve never spent the night with anyone, never woken up with anyone…and no, I’ve never had sex like that with anyone.”

“It’s like you know what I’m going to say without me having to say it,” he muttered, laughing. “Neither have I. And now I’m…intensely curious.”

“Me, too,” I whispered, giggling. “But we can’t. Not here.” I brushed my hand down his torso and found that he was still rocking a mammoth hard-on. “Jesus, Cor. You’re still hard? Are you going to be okay? I know I left you hanging last night even after promising not to.”

“I’m naked in bed with you. It’s not likely I’ll get so used to that anytime soon that I’m not gonna be hard as a fuckin’ rock just being naked with you, even if we’re not doing anything.” He sighed. “But yeah, I’ll be fine. It wasn’t your fault those two came out when they did.”

“Don’t all guys get morning wood every morning anyway?” I asked.

“Usually, yeah. This one is especially bad because I was hard for so long last night without getting to come.”

I wanted him, so bad. Wanted to touch him, feel him come, get his hands on me, his mouth on me. I glanced at the bed, and saw that Canaan and Aerie were both still sound asleep, Canaan snoring and Aerie doing that huff-snurk thing she’s always done.

“And when you wake up like this when you’re alone, what do you do about it?”

He shrugged. “Depends. Sometimes, I go jerk one out, but usually I kind of just ignore it until it goes away.”

This wasn’t what I’d been expecting. “Really?”

He laughed. “Yeah. In the morning, it tends to last a while, so jerking morning wood can be a somewhat lengthy process, and I don’t always have the patience for it.”

“So if we were to have morning sex, at some point…” I said, trailing off so he’d finish my statement.

“It would probably last a really long time, and be really, really intense.”

“God, I can’t wait.”

“I’m just conjecturing, though,” he said. “That’d be another first for me.”

“Same here.” I smiled at him. “One thing I was thinking before you woke up was that I really want to have all these firsts with you. Sleeping together, waking up together…morning sex together…I want to have as many big firsts with you as I can. I like sharing that stuff with you.”

“Me, too.” Corin chewed on his lower lip for a second. “Which is funny, because I’ve had a lot of hook-ups in my life, you know? Like, in high school Canaan and I got around a lot, you might say, and then we lived in LA on our own when we were seventeen, and then we went on tour, and that only sort of picked up for us, right?”

I rolled my eyes and turned my head away, irritated. “All right, Don Juan. You don’t need to brag—big numbers aren’t really going to impress me, okay?”

“No, no, that’s not my point.” He cupped my cheek and turned my face toward his again. “My point is that for all that, I’ve never really been…ummm…adventurous, I guess I’ll say. Things have been straightforward, and somewhat limited in scope. So…my point is that I’ve actually got a lot of firsts to share with you, despite having had a lot of hook-ups.”

“That’s oddly sweet,” I said. “I mean, I’m not sure how I feel, now, about you having had a lot of hook-ups.”

“You knew that about me back in the day, though.”

“I know, and it’s not like I’m exactly a slouch in that department either, whether in high school or afterward.” I shrugged. “But now that we’re…I don’t know…exploring things, I guess, I just…”

“I’ve got no intention of going into details or anything, because I’m not like that. It was never about racking up numbers, okay? But I get what you’re saying. Things are different, now.”

“Right. They’re just different.”

Corin reached down and adjusted himself with a hiss and a wince. “Shit, man, this thing just will not go away.”

I lifted the quilt and peeked down, and saw that he was still hard as a fucking rock. “I feel like I should take pity on you.”

“I wouldn’t mind a little pity, right now.”

I grinned at him. “I have an idea.”

He quirked an eyebrow at me. “If it means you taking pity on my poor aching boner, I’m up for just about anything.”

I laughed. “Well, you’re certainly up, that’s for sure.” I tilted my head toward the door. “Let’s sneak outside. Keep the quilt wrapped around us so we don’t get cold, and I’ll see what I can do about your not so little situation, there.”

“Sounds good.”

So we carefully crept to our feet, keeping the quilt wrapped around our shoulders, and snuck to the door. Corin stood by the door, waiting as I visited the bathroom quickly to relieve my aching bladder, and then when I ducked back under the blanket with him, he gingerly twisted the doorknob, eased the cabin door open, and we tiptoed out into the hazy gray of early dawn. Mist clung to the ground, and the air was chilly but not cold, there was dew on the leaves and the grass.

We stood on the porch, breathing in the clear, cool dawn air for a moment, and then Corin glanced at me. “Now where? The dock?”

I shook my head. “Nah. Too far, and I’m too sober to make that trip naked and barefoot.” I glanced at the truck, the windows dewed over. “Backseat of the truck?”

Corin nodded, grinning. “Sounds good.”

We tiptoed down the porch steps and across the cold hard dirt road to the truck. It was unlocked, and we climbed into the backseat, which involved a lot of giggling and laughing and muffled squeals as the quilt shifted and bared our skin to the cold air, until we got settled on the bench with the quilt around our shoulders and draped across our bodies to keep the cool air at bay.

We were pressed against each other, our skin warm, a heady contrast to the cold in the cab of the pickup. I leaned against Corin, touching my lips to his cheek.

“So.” I palmed his deliciously hard abs. “How’s your situation?”

He kissed my forehead, and then my temple, his arm going around my shoulders, tucking me into his side, my head now resting on his shoulder. “Still a situation.”

“Yeah? So…you still need a little pity?” I rested my hand on his warm thigh.

He laughed, nodding, his chin scraping the top of my head. “Yes, Tate, I still need a little pity.”

“Well then, pity you shall have.” I grasped him, stroking him. “I’m not going down on you, though.”

“No?”

“Nope. I’ve got morning breath something fierce, and I’m thirsty, and I need coffee…” I let the quilt drape open a hint, enough that I could watch my hand sliding. “And I’m just not in the mood. Sorry.”

He shrugged. “You touching me is more than enough.” He glanced down, watching me touch him. “For real, just this? Just your hand on me feels so fucking good.”

“So if I just used my hand?”

“This is your pity-party, babe. Do what you want.”

“You have anything for clean-up?” I asked.

He leaned forward and opened the console between the front seats, and came up with a stack of paper napkins, the kind they stocked at the bar. “Sure do.” He closed the console and set the napkins on it, and then sat back against the bench.

“Besides,” I said, “I also just kind of want to watch.”

“Watch?”

I opened the blanket a bit more, giving us both a better view of my slowly gliding fist. “You, when you come. I want to see the whole thing.”

“Oh.”

“In high school, I went right from second-base messing around to having sex,” I said. “There wasn’t a lot of in between. So…I don’t think I’ve ever just…” I shrugged, trailing off.

“Ever what?” I think he just wanted to hear me say the words.

I rolled my eyes at him. “I’ve never given a guy a handjob, okay? Is that what you want to hear me say?”

“For two people who have had a lot of sexual partners, we sure are having a lot of weird firsts together,” he said. He sucked in a deep breath, and let it out shakily as his hips began to flex. “Because I’ve never received one either. Not, like, just that, from start to finish.”

“It always seemed like…there were just better ways to get to the finish,” I said.

“Right. I’m usually way too eager to actually get down to the really good stuff to be content with something like this.” He hissed between his teeth, throwing his head back against the seat back. “Jesus, Tate. You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

I tilted my head to one side, smiling coyly at him, eyes wide, eyebrows lifted. “I am? What am I doing?”

He growled. “You’re drawing it out and you know it, you saucy minx.”

He wasn’t wrong: I was making this as slow as I possibly could. Just one hand, sliding down agonizingly slowly, twisting on the way up, maybe squeezing the tip a little, then sliding back down even more slowly than the last time. Drawing it out, like he said. Just watching my hand traveling up and down his big beautiful cock. I was enjoying the sight of his abs flexing, his sharp, hard hips pivoting, his muscular thighs tensing. Watching his jaw clench and release, his eyes close and then flutter open to watch again. He was just…so fucking sexy, I couldn’t handle it. And when he got all excited and had to hold back his orgasm, he was even sexier. The sight of Corin struggling to hold back was wildly erotic, to me. His face tilted up, his expression desperate, determined, and fierce, his cut, corded muscles bulging, his breathing heavy and ragged.

I wasn’t sure why I’d never done this before, but I felt stupid. Because this was fucking amazing. I could do this to him all damn day and never get tired of it, never get tired of watching him, feeling him, touching him. And knowing when I was done with him he’d almost certainly find a way to make me feel as good as I’d made him feel. That only heightened the enjoyment. Anticipation of him coming, anticipation of him making me come? This wasn’t sex, but it was pretty damn amazing.

“Tate…” he groaned. “Fuck, baby.”

“Good?”

“So fucking good.”

I leaned closer to him, palming his cheek to tilt his face to me, and I kissed him. His tongue slid against mine, and I tasted him, not caring about morning breath on either of us, not in that moment. It was just too intense a kiss, too deep, too wild, too hot; and, I realized, it was our first kiss.

He pressed against me, cupping my cheek, fingers feathering in my loose hair, pulling me closer. I stroked his hot, straining cock steadily now, moaning as he kissed me back, deepening it with each passing moment, until the kiss was all consuming and there was nothing but the kiss…

…and my hand, gliding smoothly and slowly up and down his gorgeous cock.

Finally, Corin broke the kiss with a curse, his hips pivoting, grinding into my touch. “Fuck, Tate, fuck…I can’t last much longer.”

“Good. I can’t wait to watch you come all over my hand.”

“Goddamn, when you talk dirty like that it makes it even harder for me hold out.”

“Yeah? You like it when I talk dirty? It turns you on?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

I kissed the side of his jaw, breathing a laugh. “God, you’re easy to please.” I quickened my pace. “All I’ve got to do is tell you how much I like the feel of your big cock in my hand, and you get turned on.”

“It’s that easy, babe.”

“I can’t wait to feel you come. I want to watch your cum spurt out and get all over your cock and on my hand, and on your stomach. I want you to come everywhere. Make a big old mess for me, baby.”

He groaned. “Oh fuck, so close, now.” He forced his eyes open and twisted his head against the bench, glancing at me sideways. “Put your other hand on me. Massage my balls.”

I gave him what he asked for, cupping his tight, heavy sac in my palm, gently, gingerly, carefully massaging them.

“Oh fuck yeah, just like that.”

“You like that?” I asked.

He groaned and laughed at the same time. “You have no idea how good this feels.”

“Better than a blowjob?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said with a laugh. “Not sure there’s anything better than a blowjob, but this, Tate…goddamn, what you’re doing right now is up there with the best things ever in my whole life.”

He was still holding out, groaning, tensed, hips flexing, muscles hard.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Corin,” I murmured to him. “For real. I’m getting so turned on, right now, doing this to you, watching you. Seriously. I can’t handle how sexy you are.”

“Oh Jesus, fuck…you’ve got a handle on me, that’s for sure.” He flicked his eyes open and met mine. “You’re the sexy one, Tate. I couldn’t even make up a fantasy about a woman who looked as incredible as you.”

“Oh stop,” I teased. “But don’t actually stop. I’ll take all the flattery you’ve got. I don’t mind.”

He laughed, and then groaned. “You’re ruining me, Tate.”

“Ruining you how?”

“Nothing will ever compare to the way you’re making me feel right now.”

“Until we finally fuck each other, you mean?”

His gaze was hot and intense, his brown eyes fierce. “Somehow, honey, I feel like when we finally fuck, it’s going to be a hell of a lot more than fucking.”

“I think so, too.”

“I know so.” He hissed, and his hips began pumping harder as he lost the fight. “Kissing, going down on each other, all this? It’s not just foreplay, or messing around. It’s…more.”

I felt his words in the pit of my stomach, in the center of my heart, in the depths of my soul. It wasn’t that they were elegant or eloquent words, obviously not—it was that he meant it, and that I felt the same way, in a way I’d never felt with anyone before.

“A lot more,” I said.

“You ready for this, Tate?” he asked, his eyes cutting away from mine to his cock. “’Cause it’s happening, any second now.”

“I’m ready,” I said, putting both hands around him now, and pumping his length in a slow, steady rhythm. “Give it to me, Cor.”

He twitched the edges of the blanket aside, groaning. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Here you go, Tate. All for you.”

“You’re coming?” I asked. “Right now?”

He was groaning, grinding into my hands. “Oh fuck, right now, right now!”

I met his eyes, and I saw the moment he finally let himself go, when he could finally hold back no longer. His mouth fell open and a breathed curse—“FUCK!”—fell from his lips with a heavy sigh, and he thrust into my hands once more.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. I didn’t think it out, didn’t plan it, didn’t even know it was on the table as an option—

I sank down, hunching forward, both of my hands clutching his cock, stroking hard, jerking swiftly in short, sharp movements around the base.

My lips closed around him, taking that beautiful plump pink crown into my mouth.

“Fuck…Tate!” This was a raspy gasp of utter shock, and intense, overwhelmed bliss.

God, he tasted good, felt good, and was so perfect. So amazing. God, this wasn’t real, was it? I got to do this? I got to taste this incredible man’s cock? So fucking good. He held utterly still as I sucked the cum out of him, swallowing for all I was worth as he came and came and came, coming so much it went beyond my ability to keep up, and I had to break the suction and open my mouth to gag and gasp and swallow a breath of air, but he was still coming, and it shot onto my tongue in a thick tangy salty hot pool. I buried him in my mouth, stroking just beneath my mouth with both hands, not taking more than an inch or two of him, to just beneath the ridge of his circumcision.

“Mmmmmmm…” My moan was involuntary, tasting him, feeling him in my mouth, the insane eroticism of this.

“Tate, oh my fucking god…Tate!”

I finally straightened, his cock slipping out of my mouth with an audible pop.

“Holy shit,” I murmured, staring down at his still-hard cock, now wet with my saliva and leaking cum over my hands as I milked the last of his orgasm out of him.

He laughed, a sound of something like disbelief. “Holy hell, Tate. How do you do this to me?”

“Do what?”

“Make me feel like…like there’s never ever been anything even remotely close to the way you touch me.”

“Because there hasn’t?” I suggested, hopeful.

He laughed again. “That, baby, is the damn truth.”

I was very, very pleased with myself. I lifted my hand and stared at it, admiring the lacework pattern of his cum on my skin, the viscous white liquid dripping and dribbling. A glance at Corin told me he was still recovering, breathing hard, his eyes narrowed to slits, watching me.

“Tate?”

I grinned at him. “Yeah?”

“Hope you don’t mind me saying this, but…you’re like a cat that caught a mouse, and is very pleased with herself.”

I giggled. “That’s pretty much it.” I showed him my hand. “I was also just admiring how pretty your cum looks on my skin.”

His gaze was hot and full of erotic promise. “There’s more where that came from,” he said. “I can paint your skin with my cum, if you like the way that looks.”

I twisted my hand so the lower edge of my palm was facing up, and licked a droplet away that had been about to drip off my hand. “I have a feeling I’ll be taking you up on that offer, Corin.”

“Yeah?”

I laughed, a low chuckle of arousal. “Oh yeah. And soon.” I reached for the napkins and began cleaning my hand, and then his stomach where a few droplets had pooled. “But not before I feel you inside me.”

He growled as I cleaned him. “Tate, baby, I gotta admit that as much as all this build-up has been incredible, I’m getting to the point that I don’t care where we are or who’s around us. I fucking need you.”

“I’m going crazy,” I admitted. “I need it so bad.”

He was clean, now, and he reached for me, tugging me down so I was lying on the bench, my head pressed against the far door, and Cor knelt between my knees, palming my ass to lift me up. I wrapped my legs around his neck, letting my thighs splay apart, inviting him.

“You need it, huh?” He didn’t waste any time with teasing, instead going right for slow, eager, firm swipes of his tongue against me, the cold metal of his tongue ring driving me crazy. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

I gave myself over to it. “You, Cor. I need you. All this build up is making me crazy. I love sucking your cock and I love jerking you off, and I love feeling your fingers inside me and I really love the way you eat me out. But fucking hell, I’ve never been so desperate for actual sex in my life.”

He didn’t have to tell me, this time—my hands went to my tits automatically, and I played with my nipples until I was thrashing in anticipation, and he was devouring me wildly, pushing me to the edge faster than I’ve ever gotten there and pushing me over, tongue thrashing me into orgasm so fast I didn’t have time to prepare. I just came apart, helpless to stop the scream that emerged.

He milked it out of me, tonguing me to a second climax hard on the heels of the first, and then I couldn’t anymore, not without breaking our agreement and straddling him right here in the truck, fucking us both to another orgasm.

He seemed to sense I couldn’t take any more, and let me back down. “Do you have any clue how hot that is, watching you come?” he asked.

“No,” I answered, whimpering through aftershocks, out of breath. “I’ve never…never watched myself come.”

“Maybe you’ll let me record you coming, sometime, so you can see.”

I found his eyes. “Maybe I will.”

He helped me sit up, and cradled me against his side, and sat together in the truck, gray dawn haze beyond the windows, the air cold beyond the blanket wrapped around us.

After a few minutes, Corin let out a sigh. “So. Coffee?”

I threw open the truck door in answer. “Fuck, yes. Coffee is the only thing that could be as good as the orgasms you just gave me, and those were pretty incredible.”

He laughed as we went back up the steps to the cabin. “I love that you can come more than once, and so fast.”

“It’s mostly you,” I said. “You’re kind of a sex god.”

He chuckled. “I don’t know about that. You’re incredibly sensitive and crazy responsive.”

“Yeah, but you’re still a sex god.”

He wrapped me in his arms and pressed me up against the door, kissing me until I moaned. “Then you’re a sex goddess.”

“I’ll take that title.” I wiped my mouth, laughing. “You taste like pussy.”

“Better than morning breath?” he joked, leading the way into the cabin.

We kept the blanket wrapped around us, closing the door behind us.

Corin stifled a sound, and I followed his gaze.

Canaan was on his back in the bed, but Aerie was nowhere to be found…except for the bump under the blanket, which was moving. Rhythmically. Up and down. Quickly.

Right as we closed the door, Canaan shouted, gasping, spine arching off the bed. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” he yelled. And then he saw us. “Holy shit! Hi…um…hi guys,” he gasped.

The blankets kept moving, and he grunted, and then finally the bump traveled up toward the head of the bed, and Aerie’s face emerged from underneath the blankets, her hair an explosive mess of blonde tangles around her face.

She blinked at us, wiped her lips with the back of her wrist, and then flopped down onto the pillow. “You two have the worst timing,” she complained. “Who’s making coffee?”

“Um.” I glanced at my sister, and then Canaan, and then at Corin. “Us, I guess.”

“Both of you?” Canaan asked, eyebrow quirked.

“Sure,” Corin answered, leading us toward the sink.

I was feeling flushed from the orgasm, giddy, and on top of the world, if a little weirded out about catching the end of Aerie going down on Canaan. Corin was rinsing the pot and filter basket out, and I was rummaging in the cabinets for filters, and somehow, without bumping into each other or fumbling, we managed to make coffee together, our movements in complete synch.

When the coffeemaker was gurgling, we turned around to find Canaan and Aerie sitting up in the bed, side by side with their backs to the wall, feet sticking out the end of the bed, both of them watching us. Aerie had the sheet tugged up around her chest, and Canaan had it covering his waist.

Corin and I just stood in the middle of the room for a minute and then, with a glance at each other, we moved together to sit on the bed next to Canaan and Aerie, keeping the blanket wrapped around us.

“So, about last night,” Canaan started.

“NOPE,” Aerie and I said in unison.

“Not ’til after coffee,” I added.

And so we four sat in silence, watching the aged black Mr. Coffee machine slowly gurgle and glug as it filled the pot. When it was finally done, Canaan laughed.

“So…the coffee is done,” he said.

“Well, duh. Thanks for that brilliant observation, Captain Obvious,” Corin mocked.

Canaan reached past Aerie and me to whack Corin, only his forearm gave my tits a sturdy whack too.

“Hey, watch it!” I said, clutching the girls.

“Sorry,” Canaan said. “My point, however, was that the coffee is over there, and we’re over here.”

“And not a one of us has a single stitch of clothing on,” Aerie added.

“And there aren’t enough blankets and sheets to cover all of us at once,” Corin said.

I sighed. “Yeah, well…after last night, is there a point to modesty?”

“I thought we weren’t going there ’til after coffee?” Canaan asked.

“We’re not,” I answered. “I’m just pointing out that after strip poker and skinny dipping together, it’s kind of stupid for us to suddenly be all like ‘no, don’t look at my privates!’”

Corin laughed. “She’s got a point.”

Aerie sighed. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” She glanced at me, and then at Corin beyond me, and then at Canaan beside her. “So…we’re just gonna get up, stay naked, and get our own coffee?”

“Yep,” the other three of us said, in unison.

Aerie frowned. “Um, first, though—neither of you boys have an erection, right?”

“Not anymore,” Canaan and Corin said, again in synch. And then they reached out and tapped knuckles, laughing.

Aerie and I just exchanged eye rolls.

“Okay, so who’s going first?” Canaan asked, after a long pause.

I huffed. “Oh my god. This is dumb.”

I tossed the quilt off and tried not to feel self-conscious about myself as I traipsed across the cabin to the kitchenette. For such a short walk—maybe a dozen steps total—it sure felt like it lasted forever. I was hyperaware of my body, of the way my ass jiggled, the way my tits swayed and bounced, of my hips, my thighs, even the sway of my back. I felt all three sets of eyes on me as I made that walk, and I managed to make it to the kitchenette without turning and diving back into the comfort of the quilt. Once I was committed, though…it was a rush. My heart thumped and my nerves jangled, and as I took step after step, my confidence increased.

After all, my sister has seen me naked on a daily basis, and Corin obviously liked the way I look, and it’s probably a safe bet Canaan did too…so what did I have to feel self-conscious about? And besides, I knew I looked good. I worked my ass off to look this way, to be in this shape. An hour in the gym four days a week, no matter where I am, plus thirty minutes of yoga every day, the occasional jog on the beach, healthy eating…I’m a model, which means my body is my product, so obviously I’m going to take really good care of myself.

Which means…I look damn good.

And I have zero reason to feel self-conscious. Especially around these three people. At one time, these three human beings were the people I was closest to. Aerie still was, and Corin was fast becoming more important than ever, and Canaan was…Canaan; I’ve shared a lot with him, and I haven’t forgotten how close we used to be—it’s just weird being naked around him.

But after last night…

Nope. Not going there.

Not yet.

I reached the kitchenette, finally, and located the mugs. I poured myself a mug, and turned around to lean against the counter, one leg crossed over the other, mug in one hand, toying with my hair with the other. Not shielding myself, or covering up.

I lifted my mug to the others. “Normally I’d pour some for everyone, but in this case, I feel like I made that walk, so the rest of you can too.”

Corin nodded, and slid off the bed and walked this way. I was struck yet again by how insanely hot he was—as he walked, his muscles shifted and his tattoos danced, and his hair was loose and draped around his shoulders, and his cock was long and thick, dangling between his thighs, tantalizing me with promise and visions of what else I could do with that magnificent organ of his. My core tingled and heated, need for Corin renewing and blasting through me. I let it flow through me, and as Corin approached, I let the need shine through my eyes, let him see it in the way I gazed at him.

He poured himself a mug, and glanced sideways at me. “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured. “You look at me like that, I’m liable to drag you into the bathroom and bend you over the sink.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I muttered back, grinning at him over the rim of the mug, echoing my words from yesterday.

He just laughed, and moved to stand on the other side of me so he wasn’t blocking the coffee maker. Aerie got up next, with Canaan right behind her. There was no sense of embarrassment, oddly, more just nerves and the rush. There was also no sense of averted eyes, which made things less awkward in some ways and more so in others. Less awkward, in that we all felt free to let our eyes just wander, rather than a lot of awkward non-staring. More so, in that, well…I was naked in a room with three other naked people, one of whom was my sister, the other of whom I’d been engaging in sexual activity with, the other of whom I’d had a drunken, weird, almost-thing with…

NOPE.

Still not going there.

I let myself look at Canaan—his tattoos had the same sense of meaningful imagery as Corin’s, each one personal, each one a story. He was equally cut, his abs defined and hard, his chest carved, his arms toned. Canaan was leaner than Corin, though—not by much, a difference in bulk that was only noticeable in this scenario—both of them naked and in the same room.

Which—Jesus, it was a lot of gorgeous naked male to take in.

Aerie’s eyes cut to mine as she poured coffee for Canaan and then for herself, and we exchanged a glance that traded a silent ohmygod, they’re so fucking hot! She was as overwhelmed as I was by the eye-boggling amount of cut abs and bright tats and hard muscles and thick, dangling dicks.

We stood in the kitchenette, sipping coffee, trading glances, and suppressing grins at the absurdity of this situation.

Eventually, Corin burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, this is just the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in.”

“It is pretty weird,” Canaan said.

“Not to be too…I dunno, crude or anything,” Corin said, “but I’m not exactly complaining. I don’t think I’ve ever been surrounded by so much female beauty in my life.”

Canaan quirked an eyebrow at him. “The only time that even comes close is that time on the tour bus with the guys from Nitro Punch, but those girls weren’t even in the same universe of hot as these damn Kingsley twins.”

Corin ran his hand through his hair, laughing. “Holy shit, that was quite a night.”

I shot a look at him. “Well?” I demanded, when no details seemed forthcoming. “Now you have to tell the story.”

Canaan and Corin exchanged looks, which seemed to result in Corin drawing the right to tell the story.

“So, we were just starting our very first national tour, a few months after moving to LA. In a new deal, the label had just hooked us up with Toby and Brett to fill out the band. We’d done a few local LA shows; a couple in San Francisco and San Diego, one in Vegas…and things were taking off. Then we got tapped to open, ehhh…half a dozen or so shows for this band called Nitro Punch, a little mini-tour of the West Coast and areas near it, Portland, Seattle, Vegas, Houston. Anyway, Nitro Punch…douchey name, good guys, great musicians. We were all young single rock stars, okay? You have to remember that. So we finished a show in Seattle. Mike, the lead guitarist, brought this trio of girls backstage with him after the show. Not unusual, they’re a pretty big band; he’s a good-looking guy, whatever. I figure he’s gonna take all three of ’em onto his bus with them, like usual. Well, he doesn’t. We all sit in Mike’s green room shooting the shit, smoking some herb and drinking and whatever. One of the girls has her phone go off, and she spends a few minutes texting. And then she was like, ‘I have some friends who really want to meet you guys, but they don’t have a car, so we’d have to go pick them up.’

“She wasn’t talking about just signing autographs, okay? Like, she was basically saying, take us to get our friends, and we guarantee everyone will have a great time. So Mike rounds his boys up, and invites us to go with them. So we’re, like, hell, yeah. Toby and Brett had their own shit going, so we went with Nitro Punch on their bus. The three girls were all pretty hot, in a granola sorority sort of way.”

He took a few sips of coffee, and then continued.

“So we get on the bus, and I’m thinking, shit’s about to go down. But it doesn’t. We sit on the bus and keep drinking, keep smoking. The girls are just chillin’, talking shit with us, whatever. It’s cool, but it’s not what we were expecting, right? So, then, a good thirty minutes’ drive from the theater where we’d had the concert, we pull up in front of this house on a totally nondescript street in a low-end neighborhood, and we’re in this, like, half-a-million-dollar tour bus. The door of the house opens and, no shit, six women all parade out and onto the bus. And then it’s on. These chicks are already lit, like they’ve clearly been partying hard and are ready to fuckin’ go. The bus pulls out of the neighborhood and hits the highway, and Mike cranks on some music, and that’s when the clothes start coming off.” He laughs, remembering. “We were seventeen, thinking we had the world in the palm of our hands, man. Nine chicks, all college girls, and they had zero inhibitions. Mike pulled out a bottle of water and started squirting their shirts, and it turned into an impromptu wet T-shirt competition, and then the shirts came off, and…yeah. It was a good night.”

Aerie snorted. “I bet it was. How many girls did you bang at once that night, Canaan?”

Canaan waves a hand. “Wasn’t our tour bus, and there wasn’t really space for that. There was just a lot of shenanigans. Dancing, grinding, drinking, body shots, shot gunning tokes, general nakedness and tomfoolery.”

I blow a raspberry. “Right, like two hot seventeen-year-old rock stars are gonna be on a tour bus with nine naked college chicks and not get any action at all? Bullshit.”

Corin snickered. “We got plenty of action, we just didn’t bang any of them.”

“Ah, now the truth comes out,” Aerie said.

Corin shook his head. “Man, by the time we dropped those chicks off, they’d all swallowed so much cum it was unbelievable.”

I choked on coffee and slapped him on the chest. “Corin! That’s horrible!”

He shrugged. “That’s what they got on the bus to do. The girl who’d set it up in the first place showed me the texts she’d sent. And it was, literally, a group thread conversation about how she was with two different bands, and she was gonna go on their tour bus and suck so much cock her jaw was going to ache the next day. Verbatim, that’s what she said. The other girls in the thread were all like, I’m in, I’m in, come pick us up. And the girl—what was her name, Cane? Tiffany? Something like that. She was like, if you get on this bus, you’ve gotta be ready to go down all night long. And she added hashtag ‘sucking rock star cock all night long’. I’m not making this up, I swear.”

Canaan was chortling. “He’s not. I saw the pic. As a matter of fact, I think I took a picture of the thread. If I can find my phone in this mess, I’ll show you.”

He kicked through the pile of assorted clothing until he found his jeans with his phone still in the back pocket. He dug the phone out and started scrolling through photos until he came to the section of photos in question, slowing until he found the right one, and handed me the phone. Aerie looked over my shoulder, and we both started cackling, because as Corin had said, the thread was an explicit discussion of how they were planning to “party with rock stars and suck a shitload of cock,” which is a quote directly from the screengrab.

Which…they did. More power to them? I don’t know. Sure not my thing. Maybe I’ve just met too many famous people to understand the groupie mentality.

Corin, though…that was different. I’d go down on him until I couldn’t physically swallow any more, but that wasn’t because he was a rock star so much as that he was Corin, and he made me crazy. Like, I couldn’t control my libido around him. I have an insane sex drive, so it’s always raging in the background. But when I’m around Corin? It’s like someone threw jet fuel on a wildfire.

Canaan still had his jeans in his hand, and glanced at the rest of us. “So…have we had enough coffee to have this conversation, and do I need pants for it?”

I sighed. “I think we should talk about it now, yes. And I think it’ll be best if we’re dressed, yes. But that’s just me.”

Aerie nodded. “Pants and conversation.” She covered her breasts with her arm, shivering. “And bras, because my poor boobies are cold.”

Corin snapped his fingers. “Shucks. It’s a shame you have to put those beauties away.” He said this looking at me, though.

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not going to just parade around topless for your enjoyment, Corin,” Aerie snapped, stepping into her underwear.

He wasn’t fazed. “I was joking, A, relax.” He quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. “Mostly.”

I glared at him, giving him silent attitude over his comment. “Really, Corin?”

He shrugged again. “What? I’m a straight male surrounded by beautiful, naked breasts. Like I’m going to want them to get put away?”

I laughed. “Good point.” I twisted to face Corin, which meant the tips of my breasts brushed against him. “I’ll parade around topless for your enjoyment,” I muttered for his ears only. “But later.”

“I like that plan,” he murmured back.

“I’m sure you do…horndog.”

“Not denying that title,” he answered, finding his jeans. “Especially when it comes to you.”

Within a few minutes, we were all dressed again, which was equal parts a relief and a strange disappointment.

We all topped off our mugs, and in a silent mutual decision, headed outside. Unsurprisingly, we ended up back on the dock, sitting in a circle with the sun just rising above the tree line.

After a moment of silence, as we drank our coffee, Corin looked at each of us in turn. “So, show of hands, who else feels weird and mixed up about our accidental switch up last night?”