“Do we have to do this now?” I mumbled around the sandwich, hurrying into another bite to not have to talk about this. Admittedly, I didn’t mind Rachel knowing, but I could live without sharing the salient details in the middle of a bistro that was half-packed with people snagging food before going shopping or grabbing something to eat mid-shopping. Weekends were gonna suck at most places while the countdown to Christmas was on.
“Well, no,” she intoned with a little sigh. “But it would make me feel better.”
“I hate you,” I told her with absolutely no heat, and she reached over to boop my nose lightly.
“No you don’t, I’m your favorite. Spill. At least tell me when and where. After the shit that went down at Halloween and everything the last few weeks, I knew you and Bubba were going to get there. You’ve been more than a little sappy about him, and all the hurt in your eyes when you look at him is gone.”
That sobered me a little. “We talked.” I’d told her a little about that. But not any real details. “Halloween, you know, before the guys tried to jump us.” Well, technically, they did jump us, but whatever. “He was really honest, and we talked and…he told me he wasn’t going to make decisions for me anymore or assume. And he really wanted another chance.” I picked up one of the fries and gave her a small smile. “So far so good.”
She studied me, the intensity in her gaze promising she was trying to use x-ray vision to see straight into my brain. “You’re happy?”
I thought about Thanksgiving. The weekend after it. The whole of this last week. I’d gotten alone time with all of them…and some time with all of them. I didn’t think too closely about Jake and Coop right now, because then I’d be on fire. They were both pushing in this slow, subtle way. Okay, maybe not so subtle. I wasn’t blind. The point was, they both seemed to enjoy watching me get off with the other, and when they worked together…
Well, my body started humming just at the thought. So far, the most we’d done was me kissing the other one and some light petting while I was actively getting fucked or…well, fucking the other one.
A ripple of hot cold raced over my scalp and that was enough of that.
“I’d pay money to know what you were just thinking about,” Rachel said. “It was dick, right? All the dick? Did you have to be into dick? Couldn’t you like just a little vag in your life? Like one vag?”
I groaned. “I’m sorry. If I did, it would totally be you.”
She mock sighed, a long and forlorn note. “I know. But once you go vag, you’d never go back and those boys would be so jealous.”
Snorting, I grinned at her. “I’m happy, Rach.”
“Good,” she said with a decisive nod. “That’s how it should be. So, you and Bubba…?”
Eyes rolling, I shook my head. “Fine, but only because I feel bad for you.”
“Hey, I take pity.” Her smirk was a little too sharp, but I got it. “So, spill. When? Where? How many?”
I snorted at the last question. “Thanksgiving,” I admitted. “His house. His room.”
Sipping her drink, Rachel mimed wide eyes at me and motioned me to go on.
“And that’s all I’m saying,” I informed her sternly. “Except…” I paused, replaying aspects of that evening over in my head. His belt. The spanking. The way he felt when he kissed me like I was his last damn breath.
“Except?” Rachel prompted.
“It was amazing,” I told her. “He was amazing.”
“How many times was he amazing?”
“Oh my god,” I groaned. “What is it with you and the guys, and how many?”
The corners of her lips curved a little higher. “Because guys get off every time, they just do. It’s mechanics. But to get a girl off is an art. So, tell me—are they mechanics or are they artists?”
I nudged my plate away and balled up my napkin before I threw it at her. “Artists.” Face hotter than hell, I still grinned. “Definitely artists.”
“Yes,” Rachel said while toasting me. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Thankfully, we abandoned the topic before she got into how many orgasms I’d scored since, and I skipped out on the more salient details of my Thanksgiving Day trysts. To be honest, it was hard enough to believe I