Knowing she provoked that in him—her, and her alone—made Laura grateful for this time, this cabin, for the fact that all three of them were willing to carve out space for their relationship.
They needed this.
Her mouth slid up from his sac with a warm, wet kiss on his shaft that made him grasp the deck railing and tighten, legs bending slightly at the knees as, she knew, he braced himself for the pleasure she was about to give.
“Five hours,” she murmured. “Plenty of time to recover.” Laura knew he knew exactly what she meant, because the groan that vibrated through him, reaching her mouth as she engulfed him in full, was the sound of a man who could unleash and relax, unfold and de-stress. Most of their sex life involved quickies and halfway blow jobs, everyone eager to preserve the cl**ax for intercourse, which meant this simple act of giving from Laura was simply that. A gift.
And now, in the middle of the thickly filled woods, the sound of birds and leaves shaking in the breeze filling her ears, she could give him complete release. Complete bliss.
Out of the corner of her eye, Laura saw Mike watching with a half-smile on his face, wordless and clothing-less, gorgeous and stately. He sipped from his wine and watched patiently, knowing his turn would come, just as Laura knew hers would, too. Being in a long-term relationship like this—the longest ever for her—meant compromising. Calibrating. Knowing that even if things were out of balance sometimes, in the long run everything would even out.
She took her time, tongue enjoying the exploration of skin she normally skimmed over, his shaft hot and silky at the same time, rigid as a steel rod yet delightfully flexible. Inside her, she knew, it could pump life into her, love infusing her body, release coursing through her like the rush of whitewater rapids provoked by a melting spring thaw. Her own blood began to pulse through her, ripe need gathering at her clit, the soft folds of her labia swelling with heat and want, getting ready for Dylan.
And Mike.
Cupping his balls, Laura found that sweet spot where her finger could apply pressure and—
“Oh, God, that feels incredible,” he rasped.
Victory.
Lubing the shaft with her mouth’s slickness, she pumped slowly, tonguing the cap, the tight tip of her tongue slicking the underside of his c**k right where the shaft ended and the ridge began. She’d discovered this technique a few weeks ago and learned to use it when he or Mike were almost ready to come, the rapid flick of tongue combining with her encasing hand and finger pressure an instant path to—
Dylan’s body tightened with such primal force she nearly fell backwards, the coiled strength in his thighs, back, and shoulders like a nuclear reactor of sexual thrust. His h*ps began to move in bursts toward her, and within seconds he was f**king her mouth, all inhibitions gone.
He’d become a man seeking ultimate ecstasy, and she was along for the ride, mouth and fingers keeping up the rhythm, his hot seed spurting into her mouth as she eased up on the tongue pressure, slowing her wrist movements on his shaft, bringing him down as gently as possible from his cl**ax.
Dylan rested against the deck railing and buried his fingers in her hair as she finally tipped her face up, then swallowed.
He laughed. Mike began a polite clap. “That was quite a performance,” Dylan said as he scooped her up, pressing her into a full-body, vertical hug that—oddly enough—felt more foreign than giving him a b**w j*b outside in the woods. The feel of so much skin against so much skin, outside in the fresh air, and in the daylight—it was a series of incongruities that added up to a shift in her consciousness.
She felt more alive than ever. The taste of Dylan still filled her tongue. She loved it. Loved him. Loved this.
Eyes on Mike even as she hugged Dylan, who slumped against her and whispered a string of dirty thank-yous, she mouthed, Your turn next.
Mike winked. I know. I can wait, he mouthed back.
“I can hear you two,” Dylan announced. “Quit talking behind my back.”
“How can you hear us? We’re mouthing the words!” Laura exclaimed.
“I just can. Call it my superpower.”
Laura gave him a jaunty grin as she pulled back and drank in his beautiful face. “That is not your super power.”
“Oh yeah? Then what is?”
She reached for Mike’s hand, then Dylan’s, pulling them into the cabin. “You’re about to show it to me,” she said.
Mike swept her up into his arms and carried her across the sliding door threshold like a newlywed, making her giggle and squeal.
“Superpowers abound,” he said, setting her gently on the bed.
“Not there,” Dylan said from the kitchen, where he was drinking a glass of water now. Fortifying himself, Laura thought with a grin.
“Where?” Mike asked.
“There,” Laura and Dylan said in unison.
Both were pointing at the Sybian.
“Great minds think alike,” Mike said drolly.
“But first, you!” Laura insisted, at Mike’s side with three steps, hands wrapping around his waist. He eyed the Sybian, then Laura, then shared a look with Dylan she couldn’t quite pinpoint, but which generally meant some mischief was about to unfold.
Good mischief. Sensual mischief.
Orgasmic mischief.
“How about we both get our first orgasm out of the way?” Mike suggested.
“‘Out of the way’? You say that like it’s a root canal,” Laura teased.
“How about we try being direct,” Dylan interrupted. “Laura sits on the Sybian while giving Mike head.”
Stunned silence was Laura’s only answer. Mind-blowingly stunned silence. “You want me to do that?”
Her answer was Dylan’s hungry hands on her, sliding around from behind, cupping her br**sts and tweaking her ni**les to full attention with one little brushstroke. “We do.”
Mike’s only response was a raised eyebrow, a gesture that echoed inside her and made her bloom with heat.
The tidy little ottoman in the middle of the living room was so unassuming that the average person would never—ever—guess the kink hidden within. And that was precisely the point.
Hide the fun in plain sight.
Hide the source of judgment from those who did not—or willfully chose not to—understand.
Mike pulled the lid off and exposed the wonder underneath, making Laura’s breath slow down just as her heart sped up. Time always changed here in the cabin, unlike anywhere else—even their bedroom at home. Sex was different here. Completely planned and yet utterly spontaneous. Dylan’s hands continued their slow tease from behind, his c**k rubbing up against the cleft of her ass, the hair on his chest tickling her back. Mike embraced her from the front, and the heat of his skin, all six-plus feet of him, made her feel complete.