Page 31 of Our Elliana

Jackson abides by her wishes by offering what he’s already expelled into her palm, his grin much lazier now. But Tristan doesn’t look lazy. If he rubs himself any faster, he might cause some damage. Elle adds her own palm to the mix, and maybe due to this, Tristan comes all at once, grunting but not speaking discernible words.

I stare as white ribbons jettison out of him again and again, both filling her palm like she asked and overshooting it due to the sheer amount. In the end, there’s a pool of the stuff splashed over her hand, her arm, and her belly button piercing.

My erection is still within Elle, and something about this display hardens me to the consistency of stone all over again.

“Jesus, this is so hot,” she says, peering down at the seed from two different men covering each hand. Her core gives a dire throb around me, so I plunge in and out of her again, pistoning with increased speed. She starts humming and keening, and even though I don’t normally come twice, when she belts out an endless, “Yes, Noah, yes,” as she clenches around me, I orgasm a second time, offering her more of me.

She’s full of my seed and coated with Tristan’s and Jackson’s. And I’m aware that I shouldn’t find that intriguing.

But I do.

FOURTEEN: Burning Jealousy

JACKSON

You know, I might have hyperactive tendencies at times, but right now, I shouldn’t. I’ve just experienced one of the kinkiest fuck sessions I’ve ever been fortunate enough to be a part of, and my body has been nicely pleased. I should be sawing logs with my head buried face down in my pillow, but I’m not.

I can’t.

I glance at the survey in my inbox and click “yes,” on both inquiries without a second thought. It’s not the survey keeping me up. In all honesty, I don’t know what’s keeping me up.

Physically, I should be zonked. Knocked out. Dreaming sexy dreams. Or the kind where I’m standing on stage in a stadium where everyone is shrieking my name. But I’m not. I’m too antsy for any of that shit, which doesn’t make any fucking sense.

I sit up, flick my favorite pick against my wooden headboard, and when that doesn’t settle me down, I pop off the bed. I take a hot shower—using this convenient opportunity to whack off again—thinking that’ll do the trick, but it doesn’t. I rewind the events of this evening.

In a lot of ways, it’s like I was part of a porno tonight. Or almost, since I didn’t get to be the one to bang the woman this particular time around. But being in that dining room having a courtside view of the events as I jacked myself off... Fucking Christ. It’s the kind of thing I’ve probably experienced as a wet dream more than once.

Yet something’s bugging me.

I knead a spot right above my diaphragm, feeling this acute searing that has burrowed in there like a gnawing rat. But this isn’t food poisoning or some other physical ailment. I’ve finally figured it out, and my fingers twitch with the need to pound out a furious cord on my acoustic six-string, Zelda.

It’s jealousy. Burning Jealousy.

Even though it makes no sense, I envy how the kid had sex with Elliana like that. Not so much the public part, although that was pretty hot, but the sweetness part. She’s so different with him. She takes Noah under her wing like he’s some baby bird, even though he—like me and Tristan—was hired to satisfy her, not the other way around.

Worse, she even helped him to limp along in that scene until he could successfully do the deed. I mean, I get that the kid is less experienced. It actually surprises me that Elliana chose him due to that very fact. But witnessing her coddling him... I don’t know.