Page 38 of Their Wicked Ways

Wes and Ez had tossed that theory right out the window, and I not only loved every second of what they’d done to me, Icravedit. Something about having both of their attention on me and hearing the filthy things coming out of their mouths had calmed a part of my brain that never shut up.

The part that constantly questioned everything I did and second-guessed my every decision or action. The one that replayed the things I’d just said and analyzed every minute detail about someone’s reaction to try and guess what they were thinking.

The part that compelled me to just go along with all the plans everyone else made for me and told me the things I wanted were wrong. That convinced me there was something wrong withmefor wanting them.

Being with Ez and Wes felt good. It felt natural and right, and it was the first time in my life that I’d been allowed to just shut down and feel. To let someone else, or two someones, in this case, take care of me and be in charge of not just my pleasure, but their own.

I wasn’t ashamed that I’d gotten off on the stuff they’d said to me, and I didn’t need a therapist to tell me I craved praise and affection because they’d been withheld and used as weaponsagainst me my entire life. Even my thing with being called names or degraded wasn’t hard to link back to my fucked-up upbringing.

They helped me discover my kinky side, and I’d been exposed to enough sex-positive people since I left home that it didn’t really faze me. Millions of people in the world had kinks, and my friends weren’t exactly a vanilla bunch.

Hell, my boss and closest male friend was an ex-porn star and OnlyFans model who moonlighted as a stripper. I’d spent my entire life being told that people like him, like my lesbian aunt or my queer coworkers, were evil and depraved because sex was only okay between a man and his wife.

Of course, that glossed over the many affairs in my community and the questionable practice of marrying younger girls off to older men because it would benefit the parents. None of that was evil, but my boss jerking off on cam or one of my coworkers making love to his boyfriend was morally reprehensible.

After everything I’d learned about the real world and how fucked up my community was, I’d rather be a sinner than a saint. I’d rather live in a world where people were free to be themselves and everyone kept their noses out of other people’s bedrooms. I didn’t give a flying fuck what other consenting adults did during their sexy times. Why should anyone care what I liked?

Being with Ez and Wes again was a mistake. I could feel it in my bones, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. To stop what was about to happen because I wanted it.

I wanted them.

And I was tired.

Tired of giving a fuck what anyone thought of me. Of denying myself things that didn’t hurt anyone because of some rules that had been beaten, literally in some cases, into me by people who condemned others for the very things they did when theythought no one was watching. Of trying to fit into a role that had been assigned to me by people who saw me as property or as a piece on a chessboard.

I only had one life. It was time I started living it for myself.

“Yes,” I croaked, my voice not quite catching up with my mental conviction. “I want you.”

Ezra slipped the tips of his fingers under the waistband of Wes’s jeans. Something about that casual but sensual touch ignited a fire deep in my body. I wanted whatever they’d give me.

Wes crooked his finger at me, a seductive grin on his perfect lips.

I stepped toward him, my heart pounding in my chest so loud I could hear thewhooshof my blood speeding through my veins.

Strong hands circled my hips, tugging me the last foot so I sort of stumbled into Wes, our chests bumping.

I wasn’t a small guy, but I wasn’t as big as them. Both men were a little taller than me, but it was their wider shoulders and Wes’s barrel chest that made them seem huge compared to my leaner frame.

I loved it.

Loved feeling small and like they could wrap me up and keep me safe. Like they could shield me from all the things that constantly made me question my worth and my purpose.

Wes ran his hands up my sides, across my shoulders, and over my throat.

I shuddered when he cupped my cheeks. His hands were big and rough and full of calluses from work, but they felt feather soft, more of a whisper than an actual touch.

Dizziness made me sway on my feet. I gripped his sides tightly to ground myself. Ez covered my hands with his, connecting all three of us.

The shimmering faded from my vision, and all I could see was Wes.

He was gorgeous; they both were. His tanned skin, dark blond hair, and classic good looks reminded me of those football player asshats who made my life miserable at school. But his eyes were magnetic.

“Your eyes,” I whispered dumbly.

“What about them?” he asked softly, a little smile tilting the corners of his mouth.

“They’re pretty. Like amber bathed in sunlight.”