Page 42 of The Rest is History
“Please, Ash.”
How can I deny him when I want this too? I’m so ashamed of how much I want it. “Come here, baby.” I pull him closer to me, bringing my forehead to rest against his.
He releases his cock from his sweats and then releases mine. Then, wrapping his big, rough hands around both our dicks, he tilts my face upward and kisses me hard and deep. Then, he whispers against my lips, “I want to watch you fuck his pretty mouth, Ash.”
Fucking Christ. I bruise Sawyer’s lips in another kiss.
“I want to suck your cock until you come and then I want to spit your cum into his mouth.”
“Sawyer, baby. Fuck.”
“I want you to fuck me while I suck his cock. I want to taste his cum and share it with you.”
For the second time in less than twenty four hours, Sawyer and I have crossed the line. This time, I’m not being railroaded. This time, I don’t just want it. I’m desperate for it. “What about you, Sawyer? Do you want to fuck him too?”
I close my hands around Sawyer’s, helping him jerk us off.
“Fuck, Ash. Yes. I want to fuck him while you fuck me. I want to feel him underneath me and you on top of me. I want us to take turns with him. And I want you to take turns with us.”
“What else do you want, baby?” I groan into his mouth. I’m so close. We’re so fucked.
“I want to suck your cum right out of his ass – oh, fuck. Ash.”
“Fuck. I’m so close, baby.”
“Does it turn you on, sweetheart? The thought of having Reece between us. Does it make you want to come?”
“Fuck, Sawyer. Yes.”
Sawyer's hand moves furiously, jerking us off at maximum speed. “I don’t care that he’s your ex-lover, Ash. I need you to fuck Reece for me. I need you to fuck Reece, baby. Please—”
I explode between us. Sawyer is right there with me.
Yes.
We are now truly fucked.
Chapter 18
Reece
I just need some friends. Not Ash and Sawyer. No. I need my own friends. Brian, for example, who made a bet with everyone that I wouldn’t last a month. He called it like he saw it, and I need a friend who can be honest like that.
Abe too, so I can have someone to drink with. And Walter. He has a simple, stable home life. If I stay here – and why can’t I stay? – then he’s the kind of person who would invite you over for Christmas lunch. I won’t miss having a family. I can go to see him and Bianca anytime I want, he told me so.
And I don’t need to eat lunch with Sawyer every day. I can eat with Wade. And I can buy more pastries from Dotty’s and share with everyone.
I need to stop this fucking shit about obsessing over Sawyer. He’s just being nice. And besides needing some of my own friends, I also, maybe, need a fucking therapist.
Still, even now, in God’s open prairie land, I can almost feel his scruff against my cheek. My cheeks flare up and I look around to see if there are any witnesses to my vile sexual fantasies. That scruff. It’s that fucking scruff and those big, hard hands.
“Everything okay with Sawyer?”
Oh, my God. What?
I swing my head in the direction of Wade’s voice. He comes over to me from the trailer. His curly brown hair is pulled into a ponytail and his face has dirt marks on them. I hand him the clean, damp cloth I just got from the mobile washbasin. Wade is probably about my age. Mostly quiet, like me. I don’t know much about him other than he works hard to help take care of three of his younger siblings and his aging parents.
He scrubs the cloth over his face and points to the tool next to me. Today, I’m going to learn how to use a mattock, which is a tool for digging through and chopping up the roots of a tree.
