Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
The next night, I leave the house to meet friends, and forget the book I promised I’d return to one of them. I’m only five minutes away from home when I remember, so I turn back.
Frank’s working on his latest sculpture in the garage, and inside, Zeb’s busy in the kitchen. The door to Ember’s room, which is at the end of the hall, next to mine, is closed.
In my bedroom, I cross to the shelf on the wall that separates my room from Ember’s. When I bend to retrieve the book, I hear a faint vibration. As I stop to listen, the noise continues, though the speed of the vibration varies as if it’s surging, slowing, then surging again.
It takes a few seconds before realization dawns, and my suspicions are confirmed when I hear a sigh on the other side of the wall.
I should give her privacy, but my dick turns into a devil on my shoulder, telling me it’s a good idea to press my ear against the wall. A gentle moan, the same kind that’s been haunting my dreams, is my reward.
Ember’s getting herself off, and my mind runs wild, filling in the visual details I’m missing.
She’s on her back, propped on pillows, knees spread. Is she under the covers, or—from the sound of things—uncovered and exposed?
Is she touching the toy to her clit, or sliding it in and out of her pussy and pretending it’s me?
As I listen and speculate, my cock prepares for action, ready to answer the call to duty on a moment’s notice. Ember shouldn’t have to make do with a silicone stand-in when I’m right here, hot-blooded and rock hard.
Just as I’m imagining what might happen if I were to slip inside her room and join her, she starts whimpering. Tiny, little moans, coming faster and faster, until she cries out, then goes silent.
I’m sweating as if I’m the one who just had an orgasm. Setting the book back on the shelf, I close my bedroom door, turn the lock, and take care of my raging erection.
EMBER
At work and at home, the guys are doing their best to act normal, and for the most part they succeed, but the energy between us is still off.
Maybe I shouldn’t have confessed to Frank and Zeb how I feel about them; I just wanted everything out in the open. But putting it out there, then trying to pretend it doesn’t exist, is like trying to ignore a blaring fire alarm.
It would be so much easier if I wasn’t with them all day long. We gather in the kitchen in the morning for coffee, three of us ride into work together—Zeb always takes his Harley, unless it’s going to rain—we’re together in the same small space for work, and we share the same house at night.
In the evening, we all have our own activities that keep us busy separately, but I’m always aware of being under the same roof as them, and it makes me needy.
Right now, we’re at work, and I’m trying not to notice the hard angles of Zeb’s face as he focuses on the serpent he’s inking on a man’s leg. I wonder what it would be like to trace my fingers along the furrow in his brow.
When I shake myself out of that fantasy and avert my eyes, I end up looking in Griffin’s direction. He’s cleaning up his station and I’m treated to—I mean tortured by—a view of his backside wrapped in faded denim.
I force myself to look away and find Frank’s enthusiastic client Jennifer approaching the shop. She’s talking on her phone and hovers just outside the entrance, presumably to wrap up her call.
“Heads up. Your new girlfriend’s about to come in,” I call over to Frank, just loud enough for him to hear.
The look I receive in return makes me instantly regret my choice of words. It’s only a second or two before he looks away, but the man’s dark eyes are filled with a yearning that cuts me deep.
I’ve been assuming that the attraction we confessed is just lust on the men’s part. Would Frank really want me as his girlfriend?
Luckily, I don’t have time to think more about it before Jennifer comes in. As she greets me, her gaze travels the room, admiring the men just like I’d been doing.
“Hey, I don’t have an appointment, but I have some free time and was wondering if any of these gorgeous men would be able to fit me in?” A chirpy giggle follows her request.
“Let me check.” Griffin’s just finished with a client, and the calendar shows there’s a bit of time before his next one is due. “One of our artists has an hour available. He could do a small tattoo if it’s something fairly simple.”
Jennifer nods enthusiastically. “That would be perfect.”