For the longest time, Donovan just stands there. There’s a storm cloud in his dark eyes. A debate going on within himself.
But my body is humming, and I want this, so badly, but…
I know it’s crazy, but somehow, it won’t feel right without Donovan there, too.
It’s the three of us. It’s always been the three of us.
Then he comes over and sits down on the ottoman across from us. He takes the bottle of red off the table and fills up his glass.
“One more glass,” he says.
My legs are tangled up in Jason’s, and I reposition myself so I’m sitting up, half in his lap. “Truth or dare, Jason,” I say.
He pushes some of my hair back from my face. “Truth.”
I glance between the two of them. “Have you guys had another threesome?”
Donovan nearly chokes on his wine.
“No,” Jason says. “You’re it.”
“Okay…have you thought about having another?”
“I’d be down,” Jason says. Maybe too quickly?
“It would depend,” Donovan replies, cagey, his eyes on his glass.
“On what?”
Those dark eyes meet mine now. “On whether or not you were the third.”
I grin. “Aw. You guys know how to make a woman feel special. So I’m your golden goose?”
“We had something special. Some chemistry you can’t make up.” Jason lifts his hand. “Hold on—why am I talking past tense? We have something special. Still.”
Since he’s opened that can of worms, I find myself nodding in agreement. “It all feels…so familiar. I feel like just yesterday, you were showing me around your boat.”
Donovan and Jason exchange a look, as though they’re telepathically passing information.
I narrow my eyes at them, trying to read their expressions. “What?”
“Show her,” Jason tells Donovan.
Donovan shakes his head. “We’re definitely not drunk enough for that.”
“Show me what?”
“No. Another night.”
“Donovan,” I whine. “Please?”
Donovan lets out a huge sigh. “Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself.
We’re not exactly in any state to drive, but apparently, where we’re going is in walking distance.
The night is bitterly cold, but the red wine and Donovan’s dinner have both warmed my stomach and my blood.
Of course, it also helps when, halfway through our walk down the empty road, Jason slings his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his body heat. He starts singing nineties songs, loudly, badly, and I do my best to join in.
Okay, maybe I’m a little tipsy.
Donovan walks us to the Hannsett Island Marina. Which…talk about memories. We walk through the parking lot and down the gravel pathway.
It looks strange in the dark. Eerie, almost. It hasn’t changed at all since I left. There’s the restaurant to our left—different name but same building. The pool we used to hang out in. The laundry room we used to get high in. There is a row of boats lined up along the pier. They look bright in the moonlight, like swans on the water, lazily bobbing.
“It hasn’t changed, has it?” I ask.
“What’d you expect?” Donovan asks. “Flying cars?”
Valid. Valid point.
There’s no one here at night. There probably hasn’t been anyone here all winter. The marina takes a particularly steep dive after tourist season. Which…it’s pretty obvious why.
It’s fucking cold. Not exactly “boating weather.”
“Where are you taking us?” I finally ask, because I have to tuck my fingers into my sleeves to keep them warm.
“Almost there,” Donovan says.
I don’t know where I expect him to bring us—the dock master’s office? His old trailer behind the pool? Do they still have the trailer—?
He guides us down the second pier, and we walk to the very end of it. The cold has frosted over the standing pier lights. The last ship bobs lightly in the water. It’s modest compared to the yachts and expensive fishing boats. It’s a quaint sailboat, all open wood, and well taken care of. The sail cover is white, tight, and clean. The steering wheel is covered as well, and it looks pretty battened down for the winter.
“Here we are,” Donovan says, coming to a stop beside the boat.
I blink at it. He’s standing next to it like he’s proud. “Did you…buy this?”
But there’s that amused Mona Lisa smile. He says, “Check the name.”
I do. On the back in precise, black lettering, it says, DOCK BUOY.
And then I see it. I recognize this boat. I gape.
“You did it. You fixed it up.”
“It took some doing, but…yeah.”
Something twists in my chest. This was the boat we hung out in as kids. The boat I lost my virginity in. And like all of us, it’s grown up. I’m…touched. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Donovan sticks his hands in his pockets. Shrugs. “I would’ve. If you’d come back.”
“I’m sorry…I didn’t know…”
“Don’t,” he interrupts quickly. “It’s not for you. It’s for me. That summer meant a lot to me. It’s just…a reminder. Of a time I was young and dumb and really, really happy.”
Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the salt in the night air. There’s a lump in my throat. Thick emotion. “I think…I need that.”
“Need what?”
“A reminder.”
Donovan and Jason exchange a look. Can they talk telepathically? The jury is out. Whatever the look meant, they seem to come to some kind of agreed decision, because Donovan touches the railing and asks, “You want to see the inside?”
Donovan goes first, and then he takes my hand to help me over the railing.
He had a padlock on the cabin door, and it takes him a minute to punch in the combo and open it up.
I have to duck so as not to bump my head on the cabin door coming down.
“I winterized it, so it’s pretty much out of commission until the summer,” Donovan says as he descends the short staircase. “But you can get the idea.”
“I’ll just have to come back so I can see it in action,” I say. If I’m being honest, I don’t see myself coming back to Hannsett Island anytime soon if I can help it.
Then again…the chance to see these two again might be worth the trip.
Donovan disappears into the darkness to flick on the lights from the switchboard and—
He’s certainly cleaned the place up. Cherrywood walls. Dark navy cushions. A polished wood table, short shelves with mason jars, bottom shelves for the booze. An old-fashioned oil lantern hangs in the center, which I bet looks beautiful when it’s lit.
The tour is short, but Donovan gives it: the stovetop to the left compromises the “kitchen,” and then there’s a pull-out navigating table. The cushions that surround the table serve as the sitting area. The mast sinks through the center of the sailboat, and behind it sits the v-berth, where he fits storage. Then in the rear of the boat is the bathroom or “head,” which adjoins the main cabin.
The main cabin is almost entirely mattress. There’s a narrow strip of walking room between the bed and the wall, so we walk along it in a row—Donovan, me, and Jason.
Donovan opens a small closet and pulls out a space heater. He plugs it in on the floor. “It’ll take a minute, but then it warms up fast.”
“It’s amazing,” I tell Donovan. There’s a small oval window above the bed, and I can see the water through it.
I stumble backward, and Jason catches me. “Whoa there, Trouble,” he says.
“Sorry…”
Am I? When I turn to face him, it’s only blue eyes I see.
Donovan stands again, and I can feel him behind me, too. There’s no room in this cabin…but maybe that’s what I like about it.
There’s a shift. I don’t know what it is—maybe there are memories in the wood of this ship, creeping back into our veins. I can hear my breath—and theirs. The energy between us fizzles.
My heart hammers in my chest. I’m swaying—or maybe that’s the boat?
“Is this okay?” Jason asks, his fingertips brushing my cheek, coaxing me closer. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He kisses me. It’s gentle and deep. Donovan’s hands take my hips, and I lean back into him, encouraging. His lips tickle my throat. The scruff from his jaw feels rough on my skin.
This feels both incredibly familiar and incredibly different. Same guys, same situation…but they’re men now. Not boys. I feel it in Donovan’s stubble. Jason’s muscled chest. The boldness of each deliberate movement.
They were fumbling, exploring touches before. Now, they’re confident. Hungry.
For me.
It’s enough to make a woman’s head spin.
I grab Jason’s shirt. “I think we’re all…wearing too many clothes.”
He grabs his shirt from the back and rips it over his head. “Better?”
I run my fingers like water down his chest, the ripples of his abdomen. “Much.”
Fair is fair—I pull my shirt off, tossing it to the side. The fabric flutters around me as I shuck it gracelessly. My bra comes next, freeing my breasts, and I let it fall to the floor.
The chill makes my nipples harden. I reach behind, and my fingertips find Donovan. I’m blind with him behind me, but miraculously, I feel my way around. First: warm skin, his drum-tight stomach. And down, I find his belt. It’s clumsy work, but the leather yields to my fingertips and pops open. I press my palms to his abdomen and run them underneath his pants. I feel the heat of his skin, the sloping V of his abdomen, the small, wiry curls. His erection is insistent, and it brushes against me, but I don’t touch him there. Not yet. I’m teasing him—and myself.
His breath shudders against the back of my neck, and his teeth graze the skin there. I feel his arm wind around my chest, and his hand grips my throat. A gentle reminder that he’s in charge. Jason’s lips tease, but Donovan’s mouth claims, and I gasp, dully aware that the suction of his mouth is going to leave a purpling bruise tomorrow.
My back arches and twists, unintentionally pushing my chest forward. Jason helps himself to my breasts. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, and then the next, as he undoes my pants. His lips—and my pants—drop lower as this mountain of a man sinks to his knees in front of me.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” Jason murmurs. He nuzzles against my thigh. His breath between my legs makes me buzz. “You smell delicious, too.” He gives me a kiss at the top of my thigh. His bright blue eyes meet my gaze. “Can I lick you?”
Sweet boy. I smile and push my fingers through his jet-black hair. “I’ll hate you if you don’t.”
He kisses my sex and I clench. One sweet kiss, then another, and then I feel it…the warm wetness of his tongue, mapping me out.
I moan and arch into his mouth. A hand snakes around my middle—Donovan’s. His leather bracelet is rough against my pelvis when his hand slips between my legs. His fingers work me, holding my lips apart so Jason can get deeper. Everything feels so much more intense now, lighting bolts of pleasure rocket through me with every lash of his tongue. I whisper and my knees buckle. Donovan is holding me up, though, his hand tightening at my throat, and I’m completely at their mercy.
“Do you like the way his tongue feels on your pussy?” Donovan asks in a low growl.
“Yes…” Even I’m appalled by the desperation in my voice. “Feels…so good…”
Jason is licking me like a man starved. His tongue swirls my nub and dives deep inside of me. He’s buried his face between my legs, and the sharp slope of his nose bumps against my sensitive clit.
“Don’t let her cum yet.” Donovan’s voice is husky at my ear.
My thighs tremble when Jason pulls away. I whine. “No…why…?”
Donovan chuckles. “You haven’t earned it.”
I bite my lip. “Well, you know what they say…” I twist around and cup the sizeable bulge in Donovan’s pants. I squeeze, just enough to hear him sigh. “Once a spoiled brat…always a spoiled brat.”
“Get on the bed,” Donovan demands. And—has he always been this bossy? I don’t think so. But I like it…
I scoot onto the bed. I’m completely naked now, and all theirs.
Jason gets to his feet, unfurling like a long plant. But before he can completely, Donovan takes the back of his head and draws him closer. “I want a taste.”
Then he sucks Jason’s bottom lip. His tongue reaches out next, swiping inside Jason’s mouth. Jason is lust-drunk and needy, and he’s practically swaying on his long limbs, a small moan falling from him as Donovan drinks in every trace of my arousal.
When he pulls back from Jason, Jason looks dazed, and I have to squeeze my thighs together to keep myself from soaking the duvet.
“Fuck,” Jason says with a laugh. “I need you. Both of you.”
Jason climbs into bed with me—no, more like flops into it. We roll into each other, skin finding skin. His laughter is contagious, and before long I’m giggling against him.
“This is new,” I say and place my hand on him. He’s surprised me with a tattoo. A dove swooping across his rib cage. “I like it.”
He grins. “Good, because it’s not going anywhere.”
I kiss him. He tastes like me—and like Donovan. It’s intoxicating.
“I need you inside of me,” I whisper against his mouth.
“Yeah…”
We roll around, but this time I pin him underneath me, straddling him. I kiss his lips once more before shifting around so I’m sitting in his lap.
Here, I can reach down and take him in my hand. He’s so hard, and huge. Bigger than I remember. How did I lose my virginity to this?
“Hold on,” Donovan says. He vanishes into the bathroom for only a moment, and when he comes back, he has a condom between his fingers.
He unwraps it for me. What a gentleman.
“Thanks.” I take it and shift back, Jason’s thickness against my pelvis. I roll the condom over him and give him a couple of strokes to secure him. He moans in response.
I take him between my legs and ease Jason’s cock inside of me. He fills me. Stretches me. A delicious, beautiful ache. As I slide down it, I fix my eyes on Donovan.
He’s watching me. Watching us. His hand reaches inside of his open pants, and he strokes himself.
I reach out and tug at his pants. He finally kicks them off and gets into bed with us.
Donovan is naked now, except for the chain around his neck with two rings, and the leather cuff he keeps wrapped around his wrist. There’s something about that I find unbearably sexy. Something about the way the cuff bobs up and down as he strokes his impressive length makes me throb. I fuck myself on Jason’s thick cock, head dropping with a moan. His hand settles on my hip, but he’s not guiding me. It rests there, encouraging, as he lets me take him at my own pace.
“Let me,” I tell Donovan.
His eyes narrow. “Let you what?”
“Suck you. Please.” My mouth is dry for the want of it.
His jaw slackens. Then he positions himself in front of me and slips his hand to the back of my head, cradling it. “Come here…”
I like the way his fingers feel in my hair. He holds the long strands back as I bend to kiss the head of him. I have to get on my hands to keep Jason inside of me, all while pleasuring Donovan, too. He’s a beautiful man—thick, hard—and the tip of him glistens, leaking with want. I take him in my mouth, tasting the heat of him, the salt of him, and I trace my tongue deliberately over his veins. He throbs in my mouth, and I can hear him moan—or is that Jason?
We’re tangled together, all three of us. Pleasure ebbing and flowing in waves.
I love this—crushed between them. The conduit of their desire. The two strong, strapping men are sighing, twitching, moaning my name.
And God, it feels good.
I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. I’m humping Jason like an animal, grinding him deep inside of me as I make sloppy work of Donovan, licking, sucking, swirling. The heat between all three of us is building to a peak.
Donovan’s grip tightens in my hair. He reaches his hand between my legs. I’m sopping wet; I can feel my slickness against his fingers, and he finds my clit and begins flicking it mercilessly. His voice is a thick, low growl when he murmurs in my ear, “Cum with me.”
I can’t stop it. A loud whine escapes me, and everything in me gets tight, so tight, until—
I explode around Jason. My orgasm throbs through me, hard, with pleasure so intense I grip the blanket as I ride it out.
Donovan fills my mouth, the sweet salt of him, and I find myself dizzy as I suck, and pulse, and drink. My entire body feels like a heartbeat; even my skin feels like it’s throbbing.
When he starts to soften in my mouth, he slips his hand on my jaw and removes himself from me. Then he kisses me, heatedly. I’m putty in their hands, putty in his mouth.
I can feel my clit still jumping against Donovan’s fingers. He’s not slowing down. “Ready for round two?”
“Two?” I echo, my voice hazy.
“That was mine,” Donovan says in my ear. “Now you have to cum again. For Jason.”
My thighs won’t stop trembling. Jason’s grip tightens on my legs, and he takes a handful of my hair. He lifts his hips to fuck me now, taking me the way he wants it. I’m still half in the throes, and every thrust from him makes me see stars. I can feel his breath on my back, a steady beat.
I’m so sensitive, and Donovan’s ministrations feel so good, they hurt. My breath catches in my throat, and I reach up and grip Donovan’s shoulders so tightly, I’m sure my nails leave marks.
I cry out when I orgasm a second time. Jason moans loudly as his own release twitches inside of me.
I have to grip Donovan’s wrist to get his touches to cease. “Please,” I beg. I’m so sensitive, everything in me pulsing, pounding.
“You did good,” Donovan murmurs in my ear—or is it Jason?
I’m swooning. Blissed-out. In my body and out of my mind. They kiss me all over, touch me and hold me, and I wrap myself up in their sweat and their smell as the three of us collapse together.
