Page 64 of Theirs to Treasure
When my energy is ebbing, Zev claims me from the people I’m talking to.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he tells the small gathering. “Please continue to enjoy the party for as long as you like.”
The next few minutes are a blur as the three of us say our farewells.
Outside, a limousine is waiting for us. It’s stocked with sparkling waters and caffeine-free beverages.
We’re driving straight to the airport where a plane is waiting, and Zev assists me up the stairs onto their private jet.
But Forrest doesn’t allow me to get settled before guiding me to the bedroom in the back of the aircraft.
Less than thirty seconds after boarding, Zev closes the door behind us, and I’m on my back with my dress around my waist and Forrest’s mouth between my legs.
“I’m done waiting,” Forrest says hungrily.
Uncaring that anyone might overhear, I turn myself over to him. I’ve been as hungry for him as he is for me.
I might fight my attraction, hate him at times, but my body craves his possession.
Zev lowers his zipper and kneels next to me.
Hungrily I suck him.
Then the man who has just placed his ring on my finger takes me without a condom. We’re flesh to flesh, nothing between us.
He fucks me as hard as I want, need, and I scream his name.
When he’s done, he pulls out, and his hot cum is dripping from me.
Zev strokes himself to completion, and he feeds me his ejaculate. Staring up at him, emotion welling in me, I swallow deeply.
Then he slowly makes love to me while I lick our combined orgasms from Forrest’s shaft.
I’m drunk on desire, overcome with emotion and hormones, and I get lost somewhere deep inside myself.
Maybe I drifted off because I’m jolted back to consciousness when Zev begins to pull my dress over my head.
“Let’s get you changed.”
I nod my agreement.
“The pilot would like to take off,” Forrest adds.
Somewhat mortified, I nod and accept his help into a comfortable T-shirt and the long, flowy skirt he’s obviously taken from my luggage.
One man is ruthless; the other is considerate. But the truth is I need them both.
When we emerge, the flight attendant inquires what our drink preferences are, pretending nothing is out of the ordinary. Still, my cheeks are burning. To me, that had been anything but ordinary.
Hours later, we arrive at a private island in the Caribbean, owned by one of their friends.
The house is fully stocked, and a private chef arrives twice a day by boat to ensure I have exquisite and well-balanced meals.
Though I never expected it, one evening when we’re outside stargazing, I comment on the fact Zev and Forrest have also given up alcohol and coffee.
Zev shrugs. “I told you we’d be with you every step of the way.”
I trace my fingers down his jawbone. “I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary.”