Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Oliver slips the hairpin out of his mouth. “I hardly would call it B and E when I was invited.” He leans his shoulders against the closed door, and his gaze lowers to mine. He winks at me. Then his eyes lift back to Jake. “You want me to leave or stay? I don’t mind either.”
“You wouldn’t mind staying?” Jake asks in disbelief. Oliver confuses him, and with Jake’s inquisitive nature, I’m not shocked he’s fueling questions rather than ordering Olly out.
Oliver shrugs. “Call it curiosity. I’ve never seen Hailey give head to anyone else but me.”
He’s always been a playboy, until recently when he promised he’d only sleep with me. It was a big promise, considering I couldn’t offer the same. But Olly assured me he wasn’t looking for mutual exclusivity. He just felt it was something he needed to do while I was…am trying to sort through my mental state.
On the surface, it seems like Oliver might be interested in voyeurism. Staying here to get off. The truth is, he wants to stay because he’s just as protective, and he doesn’t know Jake very well. He’s seeing how he’ll react.
My neck aches, and I turn back to face Jake.
He contemplates. He considers. He’s…curious, too.
I suddenly realize, we might all share this one trait in common.
A fuck ton of curiosity.
Jake isn’t breaking from Oliver. “Hailey, it’s up to you.”
The weight of this call bears on me as heavy as their gazes. I don’t want to choose wrong, and it does feel like maybe there is a wrong choice. I care about their feelings, but tonight I feel reckless. Selfishly, I want both of them. Realistically, I know that ends once they learn about the baby.
Stupidly, I decide now is not the moment to tell them.
My curiosity is too heightened. My arousal built.
I want to drive this speeding train into the ground. Fling it off course. Risk it all. I can’t play it safe in bed. I never could.
“I don’t mind,” I tell them. “Oliver can stay.”
I worry Jake might be upset at the choice, but intrigue must supersede all. He nods, accepting this strange road.
He’s so confident and assured in his own body, he hasn’t even hidden his cock away. His hand remains firm on my head, and I dip down to gather him in my mouth. I restart where we’d left off. Sucking in and out, licking and tantalizing. I watch him, but he’s not watching me.
His gaze careens over my shoulder, pinned on Oliver at the door. He studies him in the way that he always studies me. Unpuzzling. Unpeeling the layers. But Oliver has too many, and Jake only grows more restless. His nose flares, and he lets out a low groan when I suck harder.
Jake looks at me. “Slower.”
A moan scratches against my throat. The command pulses the spot between my legs. The awareness of Oliver hearing it behind me stimulates me in a deeper way. I obey, until Jake bends down to plant a kiss on the top of my head. He whispers in my ear. “Stay still.”
I do as I’m told.
“Good girl.”
He moves his hips in and out. In and out. Fucking my face in slow, deep thrusts. His tip hits my throat, but I stifle a gag. Then he releases into me with a low, throaty growl. I wait for the spasms to end before I lick him up slowly.
Oliver rounds the side of the bed as Jake lifts the elastic of his boxer briefs back to his toned waist.
“That was enlightening,” Oliver says casually, offering me the book under his arm. I take the thick hardbound copy of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. Still on my knees, I sink back against my heels to flip through the collection of poems.
Jake scrutinizes me. “Late night reading again?”
Oliver cocks his head. “Do I hear judgment?”
“You hear concern.” Jake buttons his pants and gets up from the bed, facing Oliver eye to eye. “She stayed up reading all last night.”
With my eyes planted on the book, I feel the heat of Oliver’s gaze descending on me. “How many hours of sleep, Hailstorm?”
“Three,” I say honestly. I flip the next page, reading quickly. Nerves mount the longer they watch me. My brain buzzes too much to focus on the text. I don’t do well with new. And this—both of them in my room tonight—is a bucketload of new. I don’t have a plan. No blueprint.
It’s unexpected. Not unwanted. But I don’t know what to do other than…read. Or pretend to read.
“You’ll try for more than three tonight?” Olly asks. He sinks down to the floor beside me, sitting with his back against the bed.
“Yes.” I flip a page.
His hand skims the rug. “Tibetan silk.” He whistles. “Should we take it with us when the summer ends? You think he’ll notice it missing?”