Akara and Banks are grinning so wide that I feel like I said something utterly ridiculous.
My face roasts.
“String bean,” Akara says.
I humph at my awfully inaccurate nickname.
Smiling more, Akara continues on, “It won’t be over too quickly. If you lose your virginity to me or Banks, it’s going to last longer than a 50m.”
“How long is a 50m?” Banks asks, brows pulling together.
“Olympic pace,” Akara replies, “25 seconds.”
Banks’ face scrunches up. “What the hell? No one’s fucking you for just 25 seconds.”
I’m smiling like a fool. It’s nice being able to talk about sex without it being weird or uncomfortable. “Sex isn’t sprinting,” I say. “Got it.”
“Good sex,” Banks corrects.
What if I suck at it? I’ve thought about this before and it always causes a wave of panic. I’m so used to practicing and training, and sex isn’t something you can practice or train for. You just…do it. The first time could be a fucked-up disaster. But then again, that’s why I waited. So there was less risk of regretting my first time.
I bite the inside of my lip. “Alright,” I say. “So I choose a medium pace. Not too slow. Not too fast. 400m.”
Banks looks to Akara for clarification again.
“Sulli holds the world record,” he says. “Three minutes and thirty-three seconds.”
Banks’ smile reaches his eyes. “You’re losing me with the swimming metaphors, Sulli.” He cocks his head. “Just spell it out for me. Do you want me to go down on you?”
My pulse descends, responding before my words can.
“Yeah. I want that.”
Fuck yes.
His grip suddenly tightens on my ankle. And then Akara’s clutches my other ankle tighter. Together, they pull my legs down. My back hits the sleeping bag like a bed of feathers. I suck in a gasp, my hips already arching.
30
BANKS MORETTI
Before Yellowstone, I’ve never done anything sexual with a girl while another guy watched or was involved. Didn’t even contemplate it. But after the cougar attack, I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think about firsts or befores. It just felt right.
Like now.
It feels right.
And I go with my instincts and slide Sulli’s leggings down her thighs while Akara leans into her lips and kisses her deeply. My cock stirs, blood pumping vigorously south.
Watching them should piss me off. I should be red-hot in rage that he has his teeth between her bottom lip and his hand riding up her shirt.
But I see the way she drinks in the sensation, and her pleasure is my pleasure. Doesn’t matter if Akara’s the one giving it to her, I realize. Sulli isn’t the only one experiencing new things in this tent—all three of us are having very new experiences.
Firsts for everyone.
Cheers all around.
As I tug her leggings to her ankles, she lets out a ragged noise. Akara breaks from her lips, and her eyes dart down to me.
“Banks,” she breathes, voice raspy.
Veins pulse in my erection, just hearing her say my name like that. God fucking damn. “Yeah?”
“I can blow you.” She offers a blow job to me, the first she’ll ever give. Her neck turns a shade of aroused red from Akara’s hand. His palm is moving underneath her shirt, probably massaging her breasts.
“You don’t need to blow me, mermaid,” I tell her as I yank her leggings off completely. I toss them to the side. Her white panties have tiny donut designs all over them.
Her eyes flit from me to Akara. “Do you two not want to see each other’s dicks while we’re doing stuff or something?”
I hadn’t even thought about that.
Akara tells her, “He can whip it out of he wants. I don’t care.”
“Same,” I say.
His dick or any dick doesn’t bother me. I fucking have one.
Akara explains before I can, “Banks just doesn’t like blow jobs.” I forgot he knows this about me.
“You want one?” Sulli offers to Akara. I imagine watching Sulli’s lips wrapped around his dick, and I harden more. Yeah, looks like I wouldn’t mind watching that.
“You first,” Akara says.
She nods, okay with this.
Total, raw attraction draws me to her. I kiss her thigh, up to the hem of her panties. She shudders. Akara sheds her shirt and her bra. His lips return to her perked nipple. His eyes hit mine as I press a palm to her thighs and guide them open.
“Fuck,” she moans, bucking up each time Akara flicks his tongue over her nipple.
I cup her pussy. Fabric separating my hand from her skin—but she’s soaked through. My muscles contract, dying to rock into Sulli. Christ, I want