Page 29 of Please Open Me
And, though I was helpless, I never wanted this to stop.
“You’re so fucking easy,” Sophia hissed between thrusts, her hands braced on my chest as she bounced. “You’reluckyany woman, let alone Mason and I, ever looked twice at you.”
My cock throbbed inside her.
“And you’re not even going to say thank you?” she sneered. “Pathetic.”
Her words hit somewhere deep, but static overwhelmed my brain, making it impossible to care.
Instead, I focused on giving the girls all I could until they both screamed my name.
Once they had their fill and we all lay on the floor in a sweaty, gross mess, the high wore off.
And, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I felt likeshit.
Chapter 8
Sebastian
My self-worth took another hit as Sophia tossed a dry paper towel at me and asked if I knew how to clean myself.
Luckily, the second she disappeared upstairs, Mason offered to shower with me.
I agreed immediately. Too eager, honestly. Minutes later, the two of us stood beneath the scalding stream in the guest bathroom, steam rising thick around us. Recently, Mason had hired a plumber to install a second showerhead. Sophia insisted it was unnecessary, but in this moment, it felt perfect.
Leaning back against the jade tiles, I sighed as heat soaked into my bones. The glass walls fogged over, cocooning us in a private little cloud fortress. My eyes fluttered shut, and instinctively, I opened my arms.
Mason crashed into my chest like she hadn’t seen me in weeks, and I wrapped her up without hesitation. Her damp hair clung to my skin. I kissed the top of her head and let my chin rest there.
She fit against me so perfectly, it made my chest ache.
But no matter how good it felt having her in my arms, I couldn’t shake the hollow, gnawing thought echoing in my head:
I’m not good enough for her.
The words came from a different version of me, as if spoken by the whiny, insecure teenager who used to follow her around like a lost puppy. I hated myself for feeling that way, so I tried to push it down.
Then she looked up at me.
“Are you okay? You’re very quiet.”
I forced a smile—meant to be reassuring—but it probably looked more like a constipated grimace. Her multicolored eyes scanned my face like she could read the truth hidden behind my crumbling facade.
“I just…” I hesitated, then finally asked, “Do you think I’m lucky to have you?”
I couldn’t bring myself to be more specific than that. Asking if I was good enough to fuck felt crass. Too shallow for what I was actually feeling.
Because it wasn’t just that.
Mason, when she let herself shine, was warm, bright, kind, and devastatingly beautiful, inside and out. In the back of my mind, I felt sick over the fact that there had been a time when I wanted to crush that light. Drag her down to my level just so I wouldn’t feel alone.
Toxic love was the only kind I’d ever known before her, and it left its stain.
She never knew what I used to think. How little I used to think she was worth. And yet, here she was, letting me hold her.
I felt unworthy in a way that didn’t burn. It ached.
Mason snorted and pressed herself harder against me, like she wanted to fuse our skin together.
