glide me down until I’m lying on my back.
I purse my lips and let out a slow, calming breath. Maxwell and Corbin aren’t going to hurt me. They are just doing what is necessary for us to protect my kids and kill my father.
“Think of him,” Corbin says. Then I feel warm, wet lips against mine.
The kiss takes my breath away. I wasn’t expecting anything so intimate from either of them. Fucking yes, kissing no.
“Him.”
The lips don’t leave mine. I don’t know if it’s Corbin or Maxwell kissing me, but he’s persistent in his drive to get my lips to part.
Think of Langston. Think of the man I’ve been so desperate to forget because thinking of him was too painful.
Finally, I open my lips.
His tongue takes full advantage, dipping into my mouth and controlling every part of it. It sweeps over my tongue, pulling a low moan out of me.
My body comes alive again. I never thought I’d be here, writhing under Langston again, but I am.
His hardness is hovering over my body but isn’t pressed against me like I want. I tug on his bottom lip with my teeth, encouraging him to come closer.
I hear moaning, but it’s not his.
It’s Corbin or Maxwell, but somehow it feels distant, not close.
It’s because I’m imagining Langston, not them. My mind is playing tricks on me, pushing their voices out, but I can’t quite invent Langston’s voice out of thin air, not when I haven’t heard his deep timbre in so long.
I don’t need to imagine his voice. Whoever is kissing me is doing plenty to stir my memories of Langston. I remember how his kisses would start off by taunting me, making me feel like I’m in control before demanding everything from me. I’d feel his kisses to the deepest parts of my core and all the way to the tip of my toes—it’s how I feel now.
I grab for his shirt and yank him to me.
His body fits perfectly over mine.
How can a man who isn’t Langston fit so well with my body? Is it Maxwell or Corbin?
No.
This is Langston.
Langston!
I let my fantasy of the man touching me being Langston fill my head. I won’t think of Maxwell or Corbin again.
He pushes my shirt up my body as he kisses my stomach then up to the curve of my breasts. He pulls the shirt off my body, so he can stare at my body unobstructed. He pauses, not touching me, kissing me, or whispering dirty thoughts. He must be doing nothing but looking at me.
I bite my lip as I feel a blush come over me. Does he not find me attractive anymore? I know I’ve been through hell. My body is weak, bruised, scarred. I don’t have the curves I used to.
It’s been so long since we’ve fucked that I’m sure he no longer finds me attractive.
“Maybe you should wear a blindfold too and imagine someone else,” I whisper.
He catches my wrist as I try to push him away and kisses the tender spot of my palm.
I can’t help but moan at the softness of his lips. Then his lips are at my ear.
I shiver from the hotness of his breath building pleasure through my body.
“I can’t take my eyes off you,” he says.
My breath catches. His voice sounds like what I remember Langston’s to be. My mind is fully committed to the fantasy.
He starts kissing down my body again, not missing a single inch of skin. I get lost in the pleasure. With my blindfold on and not feeling anything like this in a year, my body is tingling everywhere his lips press. So much so that I don’t notice that he’s removed my pants until I feel him kiss between my legs.
I gasp loudly—so loudly that he stops to check that I’m okay. He continues when he realizes it’s just because the intensity of his touch is overwhelming me, not hurting me.
My body is torn between indulging in the feel of his hot lips between my legs and knowing how wrong this is. A tingle of fear simmers under the surface. What if my body no longer knows how to do this? What if it hurts?
My thighs squeeze against the sides of his head as his tongue slides up my slit. It’s exactly the same way Langston used to lick me.
Waves of pleasure ripple through my body. His hands push at my thighs until they fall open for him, giving him complete access to my body.
I’m going