The only downside is that it’s difficult to concentrate while he’s driving me crazy with his mouth, but I try anyway. Ian moans softly, and his hips start moving, not quite thrusting into my mouth, but definitely trying to get deeper. I do the same, and we fall into a slow, steady rhythm, sliding in and out of each other’s mouths. Our hands roam over each other’s asses, hips, legs. No one’s in any hurry—I could lie like this and please him like this all night long. Lips, tongue, hands, doing to him the same things he’s doing to me and vice versa. Time doesn’t exist anymore. Nothing does except this beautiful man beside me and all the little moans we’re drawing out of each other.
After God knows how long, Ian stops. “Come up here.” He turns onto his back, and I join him, climbing on top. His hands on my hips nudge me into motion, and silently, breathlessly, we’re moving together, my cock rubbing against his. The friction is insane, but quickly becomes too intense, so I get the lube off the nightstand.
I pour some into Ian’s hand. He strokes some of it onto his cock and some onto mine. As we start moving together again, the undersides of our dicks rubbing together, that slipperiness is mind-blowing.
His other hand curves around the back of my neck, and as he draws me down, he lifts his head to meet me halfway. As soon as our lips meet, I’m nearly there—his body, his mouth, everything about him turns me on, and I can barely stand it as we kiss and rub together.
Ian breaks the kiss, but he doesn’t let me go. Forehead to forehead, panting and trembling, we’re both getting close—I swear I can feel his orgasm building just like I can feel my own.
Then he gasps. A shudder runs up his back, lifting him off the bed, and I kiss his neck as semen spurts between us, and in seconds, I’m coming too, groaning and shaking until I can’t even fucking move anymore.
He collapses. I collapse. We hold onto each other, we breathe, and I’m surprised I don’t black out.
When my arms and legs finally agree to hold me up, we separate, we wipe ourselves off and then pull the sheets up over us.
Neither of us says anything for a while. Lying beside him, head tucked beneath his chin, I don’t want to get up. Even now that we’ve reconnected again, I’m almost afraid to let him go. This is the second time I’ve let our arrangement with Michael pull my focus away from my marriage, and it’s left me rattled that we both let it happen this time.
Ian’s hand slides up my arm. “Still awake?”
“Yeah.” I rub my eyes. “Just”—distracted—“drowsy.”
“Me too.” He holds me closer. “We really need to do this more often.”
“Yeah, we do.” I kiss beneath his jaw.
“I don’t want to stop what we’re doing with Michael,” he says. “But we can’t forget about us.”
I close my eyes and exhale, relieved we’re on the same page even though I shouldn’t be at all surprised. “No, we definitely can’t. Maybe we need a night or two a week that’s just for us.”
“Probably. Or even keep playing it by ear, but make sure we’re still spending time one on one. I have no doubt Michael will understand.”
“More than most guys would, I think.” He nudges me gently. “We should eat something.”
“Yeah.” I drape my arm over him and cuddle closer. “But I don’t want to move yet.”
“Neither do I.” He nuzzles my hair. “This is comfortable.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Come on. Let’s go make some dinner before we fall asleep.”
I want nothing more than to lie here with him, but I nod and start to get up. “Yeah, good idea.”
Ian stops me with a hand on the back of my neck, and he grins. “Maybe a light dinner. I don’t know about you, but I could go for some more tonight.”
Goose bumps spring up along my spine. “You can have as much as you want.”
The grin broadens, and he draws me in for a kiss. “Maybe dinner can wait, then.”
“Hmm. Maybe it can…”
Chapter Nineteen
It’s no surprise that Michael’s completely supportive when Ian and I tell him we need a couple of nights a week to ourselves.
“Like I’ve said from the beginning,” he tells us over dinner, “I don’t want to cause any problems between you two. I’m happy to make whatever adjustments help you guys.”
Funny how I was so worried about this being a bad idea. I’m married to and sleeping with two of the most levelheaded, laidback men on the planet. While I get worried and convince myself we’re on the cusp of disaster, they adapt as if they can’t imagine why not.
So on an evening when Ian’s swamped with papers to grade—which he neglected for a few nights in a row because of both Michael and me—he gives me a kiss, tells me to have a good time and reminds me to kiss Michael for him. And it’s completely normal. This has become normal in our house. Which is weird when I think about it, but living it feels exactly that: normal.
As does walking into Michael’s house, saying hi to Cody and continuing into Michael’s kitchen, where he’s waiting with a glass of wine in his hand.
“Right on time.” He sets the glass down and wraps his arms around me. “As always.”
“Couldn’t possibly be late.” I kiss him lightly. “By the way, Ian says hello. And he sends”—I cup Michael’s neck and kiss him again, longer and deeper, just the way Ian likes it—“that.”
Michael grins. “I’ll definitely make sure to send one home for him too.” He holds my gaze, and the grin falters a bit. “I, um…I’m actually glad it’s just you and me tonight, though.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
He rests his forearms on my shoulders. “Because I want tonight to be different. It’s been all about me from the beginning. Tonight, it needs to be about you.”