flurry of hands and mouths and skin until Hanna is flat on the blanket, laid out like a buffet for Nash and I to devour. With every taste of her skin from the gentle slope of her waist to the soft flesh of her thighs, I become more and more intoxicated by her. Desperate for more, hopelessly addicted until my mouth finds her center, burying my tongue deep inside her just to see the way it makes her hips buck and squirm.
Gazing up over her body while I’m still deep in her warm folds, I watch as she takes Nash into her mouth, much like last night, but this time, he’s letting me in. My eyes find his face every moment or so gauging whether or not he’s going to push me out, putting the emotional barrier up like he always does, afraid to set himself up for pain again, but he doesn’t, and when I sit upright, her juices still on my face, he snatches my chin and licks them straight off my lips.
Hanna moans, something guttural from her belly as her legs wrap around my hips and pull me forward.
“Fuck me, Ellis,” she cries.
It would seem I am no longer calling the shots. In fact, Hanna has had control of this whole thing, hasn’t she? From the very first kiss in the rain, she’s had the reins, and as I align my cock at her entrance, I let go of my need to control, and I give in to her. It’s not something I do often, but even I’m having a hard time holding back.
So, with one powerful thrust, I’m deep inside her warmth, and the empty hangar sings with the echoes of our lust. It is the pounding flesh against flesh with moans and heavy breathing, and it’s far more than anything we ever did in Amsterdam. It’s more because of her.
“Hanna,” I moan while I move inside her, lost in her eyes.
Covering her body with mine, I watch as she takes Nash into her mouth again, but I see the struggle in her angle. “Come here,” I beckon, pulling her up. Then with a quick flip, I lie on my back and help her settle her hips back down.
She bounces hard on my cock, all the while working him to the point where his mouth hangs open, pure ecstasy written on his face.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I moan, helping her to keep a steady rhythm.
“So perfect,” he repeats, stroking her still wet hair out of her face.
I’m on the edge, so fucking close, but she hasn’t finished yet, so I press a thumb to her clit and pick up the speed, slamming roughly. She lets out a muffled cry, pulling Nash out of her mouth as she falls swiftly toward her climax.
“I’m so close,” she moans, still stroking him at the same fast tempo I’m thrusting into her, and it’s like the growing electricity in the room strikes us all at once. She goes tense and breathless at the same exact moment Nash releases, the warm jets landing against her chest.
God I want to come in her so fucking bad, but I wait for her to ride out her climax before I let myself go, pulling her off in a rush as it slams into me. Tremors quake through my body, my fingers digging into her hips as I come.
We’re all left panting. Nash is still on his knees next to me as he leans down to press his lips to Hanna’s neck, cheek, and lips, like he’s worshipping, and I watch the way he devotes himself to her. And it hits me that I can’t take this away from him. And it hurts. Leaving her, leaving him.
As she collapses onto my chest, not caring we’re both sticky and covered, I gather her into my arms, feeling the erratic beat of her heart against my chest. Nash gets up and jogs away, disappearing between the parked aircrafts. When he returns a moment later with a warm, wet washcloth, he takes care in wiping us both clean, placing a kiss on her cheek before his eyes freeze on my face.
This isn’t like Amsterdam, I want to tell him, but I don’t. And maybe he knows. This is different. She’s different. She’s…more.
18
It takes another hour for the storm to subside. Our clothes are still soaked and too cold to put back on, so the three of us are left riding back to the house wrapped in towels. As I