Reawakening (31 page)

Like Blake saying
fuck her, now.

Of course, once she was lax and dazed and leaning back into Jamie—strung so tight behind her, so tight—she knew what he meant. He didn’t mean—
I’m going to come in her pussy now, then you get to have a turn.
He meant the other thing, the thing she’d thought about while pretending that she wasn’t really thinking about it. Or the thing she’d thought about while touching herself because really, it was the hottest thing she could imagine them doing together.

And it definitely washed away all those tangled thoughts she’d been having earlier. Nobody could have tangled thoughts when Jamie made a little frustrated sound and Blake snapped, sudden and sure—

“Use the stuff on the dresser. Come on. She wants it.”

She tried to think what he meant by
stuff
then went red all over. Of course she’d understood immediately what Blake meant but even so. Baby oil made it real. As did Jamie saying,
do you? Don’t…you don’t have to.

She thought about the size of him. Christ he felt immense in the other place, never mind her ass. And Blake seemed so swollen and thick inside her, as though any second he was going to burst and really Jamie had better hurry up and do it before that happened.

Because she could see in Blake’s face—it was important somehow, that they shared her like this. She thought about how Jamie had been the one up until now who’d pushed and suggested and said come on, buddy. And it was as though Blake was saying…she didn’t know.

Like he was saying
come on, buddy
.

It wasn’t even like a share thing, either, she didn’t think. There was no sense of herself as a thing they were portioning out between them, no leftover unease or weirdness. It just felt like something possibly glowing and good between all three of them, something they could all be a part of with no trouble at all.

Listen to him
, she thought at Jamie, and his hand was suddenly on her shoulder again. Strong and firm and good, as though maybe he’d heard what Blake was saying, and understood. She hoped he understood.

The slickness she felt him striping down her back…that suggested he maybe understood. He just ran it all the way down her back to the curve of her ass, everything all slippery and tugging at her still swollen clit, the hot bloom of her sex.

She clenched around Blake without meaning to and heard him gasp gutturally. It made her want to look at him and see his expression—probably tense and bright with pleasure—but somehow her eyes had screwed themselves tightly shut and didn’t want to open.

She could feel Jamie’s breath on the nape of her neck, hot and shaky. It excited her even more than his fingers sliding between the cheeks of her ass—maybe because he was out of control. She could tell he was. His touch was almost rough and too eager, pressing against that tightly clenched hole before she was ready for it.

Though most of her suspected she’d never be completely ready for it. She wanted to tell him—
no one’s ever had me there before
—but that sounded stupid and gauche and it didn’t contain all the things she actually felt. How hot her body burned for it, for him to fuck her there hard and not care. If she said it, he might not do it. He might get a hold of his control and shut right down, then watch as Blake fucked her until he came.

And that…no. Not right now. She wanted him to have her, and tried to push back against him to tell him as much.

It was still a shock when he slid one finger inside. She found herself suddenly falling forward right on top of Blake, but that was okay because Blake put a hand in her hair and said
you okay? It’s okay.

She tried to answer that she was, but couldn’t. Mainly because Jamie was groaning and groaning even though she knew he hardly ever made noise when it came to sex, and it was plunging her deep into a great pool of arousal. Her sex pulsed hotly, over and over, and the feeling only intensified when he slid his finger back and forth inside that tight channel.

But it didn’t stop there. Her mind wouldn’t let it. Her mind wanted to send her images and ideas that her body couldn’t cope with, like—
maybe he can feel Blake, through the thin barrier of me. Maybe he’s kind of stroking him, and that’s why Blake has his eyes shut tight with his teeth in his lip like this and, God, God I’m sweating. I’m shaking.

She thought of the Jamie she’d experienced before, when they’d last had sex—but couldn’t see that Jamie here. That Jamie would have stroked a hand down her back and steadied her, calmed her, but this Jamie was quiet except for the groans, and maybe too far gone.

He pushed against the resistance to get a second finger inside her, and she couldn’t even complain about it. It felt as good as much as it burned, and she found herself begging for his cock before she could get a hold of herself. She said words that made her hot with shame, like fill and my and ass, then dirtier, filthier. Words that sounded sticky on her tongue—
come in me, come in me, God, come all over my body.

But they cut some things loose inside her, and they cut some things loose in them, too. Two sets of hands tightened on various parts of her body, then she felt him pressing there, massive and hot and not like a finger at all. God no, nothing like a finger.

He was going to hurt her—there was no way he couldn’t—and for a moment, real fear spiked in her blood. Just before he got her by the hips and slid all the way in to the hilt, smooth as silk and twice as easy.

He didn’t even have to say anything. No
relax, baby
, or anything like it. Her body just relaxed all on its own, and took him in as though it had been craving this all along—this feeling of almost choking fullness, this pleasure with the barest hint of pain just at its edges.

She laid against Blake, trembling. Couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t even try looking at Jamie. The good glowing thing between them was there, but it was purely in the tension between bodies, the sense of them all being one push and slide of flesh, and oh, it was sweet. She could feel every pulse in her body right between her legs, expanding and expanding. Her clit felt huge and swollen, her pussy and her ass so small. So driven down to nothing.

It was unbelievable. Beyond that, past that. Her fingers twisted in the covers either side of Blake’s shoulders, but she couldn’t make a sound.

Jamie made the sounds, instead. It was almost like a sob, when it came out of him—so much so that she could hardly believe he was the one making it. Then even stranger, it was Blake who asked the questions. Blake who talked on and on, the way Jamie so often did.

“Is it good?” Blake said. “Is she tight?”

How could he not know? He hardly had any leeway to move at all, and when Jamie rocked just ever so slightly—as though he couldn’t do anything but—they all gasped together. God yeah, it was tight. And hot and slick and shot through with these little pulses of tense pleasure.

“Yeah,” Blake said. “Yeah, go on.”

And she knew he’d done so because he could feel Jamie, through her. Could feel something other than her rubbing against his already filled to bursting cock, until his body went rigid and he panted out his moans, and she knew he was going to come.

It made her want to urge herself against both of them—as far as she was able to—in order to make it happen. Though after a moment of this agonizing rocking and pushing and feeling Jamie’s cock slide and slide into that tight ring of muscle she realized it wasn’t Blake she was trying to push into orgasm. It wasn’t even for herself—though that was definitely coming too.

No, she wanted Jamie to get at it. She wanted to feel Jamie swell inside her, and flood her with his cum, and maybe in the middle of it say all those things he usually did. Maybe if she got him there, he’d tell her
it’s okay baby, that’s it
or
oh you’re so good, so hot and wet
.

Just something, something.

Only the thought of it…the thought of him saying things to her and holding her in just that way, then losing it…it pushed her too close to the edge. She ground herself against Blake’s suddenly jumping cock and that was all it took, just the barest hint of his slick stomach against her clit and something rubbing fierce and hard inside her, and she was the one doing it.

It shoved through her just like before—too much, too much. Blake tried to hold on, but she could feel the wetness spilling inside her and his hands suddenly on her hips, scrabbling and scrabbling.

It was so good. Too good, really. Because only after it was done did she realize she’d missed Jamie finding his pleasure—wasn’t even sure, in fact, if he had. Wished, beyond anything, that she could have seen his face when he got there or just something, something.

Instead, he pulled out of her too quickly and it was a shocking and sudden absence. The fact that the evidence of his pleasure then trickled down her thigh…not really a comfort. Unsurprisingly, not really a comfort at all.

Chapter Sixteen

Jamie was sitting by the window when sleep slipped away from her in the night, though not in any sort of comfortable way. He didn’t look relaxed, half-bare like that with his head tilted against the glass. He looked like he could see something he was longing for, instead. Something as amazing as the great white moon that hung so heavy in the winter-dark sky.

She could see it even from here, casting odd shadows on his shoulders and making his skin a silvery color in the dimness of the bedroom. He looked lovely, and lonely, though she couldn’t quite fathom why. Hadn’t they just done all of that stuff? Been together and formed that good glow?

Though when she looked at him now, she couldn’t tell if all of that had really meant anything. He looked different, somehow, in a way that made her wonder if she’d ever really known him properly. Of course, he always had that look about him—of someone just crouched and ready to go, of someone lean and wired and ready for that terrible war in the future—but there was something more pronounced about it here, now.

She thought of the words
lone wolf
and wanted to laugh at herself for doing so, but couldn’t. Wanted to call him back to her, but couldn’t.

It was all right though, in the end. He didn’t need her to call him back to her, because after a moment of her careful watching he turned, as though he’d known she’d had her eyes on him all along. And he said—

“I’m still here. I ain’t dead.”

She wanted to tell him
yeah, I can tell
, in response to that.
I can tell so hard it hurts. You’re so alive it’s frightening sometimes
.

But somehow she just went with
come on
, and patted the bed next to her. It was still raw in her, all the things they’d done, and she wanted him to come over. No—she
needed
him to come over and put his arms around her until that rawness went away or burned in deeper—whichever felt best, first.

Only he just sort of hummed in reply, and after a minute said something that made her hackles go up—though she wasn’t sure why.

“Do you think people ever really know when they’re happy?”

He was facing her, but she could tell what he was doing—pushing his back against the window. She couldn’t even imagine how cold the glass must have been. “Or do you reckon most of the time, they just make do with satisfied?”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

It popped out before she meant it to. Felt kind of like vomit, coming up. Especially when his eyes went so dark like that—like water over slate—and his next words seemed so…bottomless.

“No, baby,” he said. “I ain’t never satisfied when it comes to you. Even when I’m right there touching you, I want more of you.”

She knew her voice was going to come out shaky, even before she managed to make the words. She could feel that tremulousness right down in her chest, threatening and threatening—even though she’d said the same thing to Blake easily enough. It had come out so easily with Blake.

“I love you, Jamie, I love you.”

She had to say it twice. The first one came out all weird and not like words at all. And he wasn’t saying anything back, either, which made the things he’d said even more elusive. Did he mean that she never gave him enough?

She couldn’t tell, she couldn’t tell. He just regarded her with those water on slate eyes and seemed beyond words.

Then, finally, he went with—

“It’s okay, June-y. It’s okay. Go to sleep—everything’s okay.”

Which seemed at best, complicated. Unfortunately, he also chose that moment to come over and run a hand through her hair. And after he’d done so he laid down next to her, and she forgot almost any worries she’d had. He was right, after all. Everything was okay, when he held her like that, and didn’t let her go.

* * * *

She heard it, and half-dreaming thought of birds, flying. A hundred black wings against the sky, beating and beating and leaving only good things behind—though that was the way dreams usually were. You woke up, only to find that the good thing had become bad and the bad thing had become good and everything was too late, too late.

If the birds were already flying, she was too late.