9
“Jesus Christ,” Gavin muttered, as Erin’s inner muscles finally stopped clenching against his fingers. He started to remove them, gritting his teeth as those same muscles fluttered softly and Erin moaned once more.
Oliver had risen at the end, wrapping his arms around Erin, who’d gone completely slack. Meanwhile, Gavin remained there, on his knees on the floor, trying to wrap his head around what he’d just experienced.
“Motherfucker,” he murmured, as Oliver helped Erin to the bed. She was conscious but sort of out of it. She fell to the mattress like a sack of potatoes. Gavin watched it all, even though it felt as if he was having some sort of out-of-body experience.
Once Erin was settled, Oliver returned, reaching underneath his upper arm, helping him to stand.
“Incredible, wasn’t it?”
Gavin thought that might be the understatement of the century, but he didn’t have enough blood pumping through his brain to do much more than curse. “Son of a bitch.”
Oliver laughed. “Imagine how good that’s going to feel when it’s your cock instead of your fingers.”
Gavin shook his head, unable to let himself go there. If he did, he’d come in his pants like an untried schoolboy right this second.
Oliver directed him to the bed. Erin lay sideways on it, naked, her lower legs dangling over the edge. Her face was flushed, her beautiful dark hair spread out like a halo around her head. Her eyes were slitted open, her chest rising and falling rapidly, as if she’d just run a marathon.
“Erin,” Gavin said, suddenly concerned he’d gone too far. He’d taken Oliver at his word, trusted him when he said she liked it rough. Gavin’s sexual experience with his male lovers had always followed that same line—there was nothing he liked more than a good hard fuck.
“Take off your pants, Gavin,” she said, her voice hoarse from her earlier cries. “It’s my turn.” She pushed herself up on her elbows, her expression the epitome of impatience.
Gavin hesitated, still uncertain, until Oliver slapped him on the back. “Get moving, bro, or I’m going to steal your spot.”
“You might try,” Gavin taunted as he unbuttoned his jeans, then slid the zipper down. Erin pushed up until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. He took two steps, coming to a stop right in front of her. She reached out to grab his cock, licking her lips, her intent clear, but Gavin grasped her wrist.
“Erin, wait.”
He knew the second the words left his mouth it was the wrong thing to say. He’d seen the brief glimpses on her face tonight that said she was still afraid he’d come to his senses and realize he was truly gay, not bi.
Hell, he still harbored his own fears about that, though Erin was doing a pretty good job of wiping those doubts away.
“No,” he said. “I don’t want to stop. I just…” He ran his hand through his hair, trying to find the words. He’d never struggled to tell his previous lovers exactly what he wanted from them sexually. Though he knew that was because in the past, his emotions had never been engaged. Fucking was just that—fucking. It was easier to make demands, and to follow commands, when the sole purpose was finding sexual completion.
Sex was simple when the only thing either partner cared about was getting off.
Tonight…with Erin…it all mattered too much.
“Say what you want,” Erin said.
Gavin glanced at Oliver, who’d removed himself from the picture again. When they’d discussed how they hoped tonight would play out, Oliver had insisted that, for this first time, it should be just Gavin and Erin. His foster brother had reasoned that he’d already had sex with both of them, and they needed a chance to get to know each other—sexually—without him in the way. That had made sense this afternoon when the conversation had just been a hypothetical.
Now that they were here, it was harder to draw a box around each part and call them separate entities.
“I’ve had blowjobs before,” Gavin said. “I’ve never…”
Erin ran her hands along his thighs, then glanced over her shoulder at Oliver. “Guide us through the next part.”
Oliver nodded. “Crawl into bed, Erin.” As she shifted on the mattress, he pulled the covers down for her. Then he shook his head at Gavin, clearly annoyed. “Shit, man. Take those damn jeans off.”
“I will if you will,” Gavin said.
Oliver wanted to reject the request, but Gavin knew what he wanted, what he needed. If Oliver was serious about it being the three of them from now on, then dammit, there was going to be three of them in this bed tonight.
“Ollie,” Erin whispered. “Hurry.”
Gavin shrugged his jeans off, placing one knee on the mattress, making it clear the next move was Oliver’s.
Oliver pulled his shirt and lounge pants off, his cock thick and hard.
Yeah. Just as Gavin figured. Oliver would have suffered in silence the entire time.
“Get in the bed,” Gavin said.
Oliver grimaced. “You’re not changing the game plan,” he insisted. “At least not all of it.”
“Is this game plan starting tonight, or should I just go on without you two?” Erin asked, drawing her fingers over her bare stomach and then lower.
Gavin grasped her hand just before she reached her clit. “Bad girl.”
“Oooo,” Erin said. “I like that.”
Oliver sighed. “You tapped into that little kink of hers quick.”
Gavin glanced up at Oliver and grinned. “She likes to be punished?”
“Flip her over, spank her ass. Find out just how much.”
“Goddammit,” Gavin murmured, even as he did exactly as Oliver said. Erin didn’t even bother with the slightest token of resistance. Instead, she did most of the work, twisting over, coming up on her hands and knees. Little minx even wiggled her bare ass impatiently.
Gavin ran his hand over her smooth, silky-soft skin, loving the way his touch caused her to
