Page 67 of Snowed In with Benefits

“Just like that, Goldilocks,” Hunter groans.

I look over at him and Beau. Emmett grips my chin and physically pulls my gaze back to him.

“Eyes on me, city girl.”

I meet his eyes as he fucks me, getting lost in the shades of gray. I’m close again, so very close, and I close my eyes as the sensation rushes over me. He stops again, and I whimper.

“Not until I say so,” he whispers.

He slowly builds up speed again as I cry out. I’ve never been filled like this, never been fucked like this. Hunter and Beau wanted me to come over and over again. Emmett wants to control when I come. I want to let him control me, and that scares me just a little, just enough to make my heart race a little faster, just enough to make the elusive orgasm creep closer with every powerful thrust.

Emmett licks his thumb and presses it against my clit. A powerful surge of pleasure rushes through me, making me tighten around him. He pulls away and slows down again.

“Emmett,” I pant.

He winks at me. I moan. He moves faster, deeper, harder.

“Come for me,” he says.

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I come hard, screaming as my whole body contracts around his cock again and again. He hasn’t let up, hasn’t slowed down, and the rhythm makes my orgasm last longer and run deeper. I’m shaking, gasping for air.

He spreads my legs and slows his tempo, pressing his thumb against my clit. I haven’t even recovered from my first orgasm, and another one is building. Fast. He’s deep inside me, working my clit, driving me to the brink again. I’m expecting him to do what he did before, to edge me, to bring me close and pull away, but he doesn’t.

I come again, groaning through it. I’m so sensitive now that I flinch away from his thumb and he switches positions again, pulling both of my legs to one side, getting somehow even deeper. He grabs my hip and pounds into me, driving me crazy. I’m gripping the blankets, screaming into the pillow, and another orgasm rises and breaks, leaving me a shuddering mess. He doesn’t stop. He spreads my legs again.

“I can’t—” I gasp.

He doesn’t hesitate. He rolls, flipping us so that I’m on top, straddling him, gravity pressing him even farther into me. I’m trembling, completely spent, barely able to move.

“Give me one more,” he says, running his rough hands over my thighs.

I try my best, but my legs are jelly after three back-to-back orgasms. Just as I’m about to give up, Beau grabs my hips from behind and pushes me up, helping me ride Emmett. I let him help me, giving myself over completely to the moment, on fire from the feeling of Beau’s hands on my hips and Emmett’s hips between my thighs and his cock deep inside me.

“Come,” Emmett growls again.

I rock my hips, riding him hard with Beau’s help, finding the perfect position to get me off one last time. It hits me deep in my core and rolls through me, making me clench and shake. Emmett’s fingers dig into my thighs. He pulses, pressing me apart even more. He groans deep and long as he comes.

Exhausted, sated, and utterly spent, I collapse against his chest. My eyes flutter and the world blurs around me. My body is refusing to stay awake.

Emmett rolls us over and slips out of me, kissing my forehead.

“That was incredible,” I murmur.

If he says anything back, I don’t hear him. I’m beyond drifting now, completely gone.

27

JOSIE

I wake up alone. I’m in my bed, well, Beau’s bed, but mine for all intents and purposes, tucked under the covers. The last thing I remember is collapsing on Emmett’s bed. I don’t remember moving to mine, which means the guys must have moved me, carried me from one bed to another. I bite my lip at that knowledge and something warm spreads through my chest. Which one of them carried me? All three of them were there at the end. I picture Emmett lifting me off his chest, cradling me against him, walking me down the hall. Or maybe it was Beau, since it’s his room. Maybe Hunter pulled the covers back while one of the others laid me down. Maybe all three of them stood in the doorway for a second, looking at me, before they closed the door and went to their own beds. I’ll never know, and somehow that makes it better. The not knowing. The fact that it could have been any of them, or all of them, and that any version of the story ends with me being taken care of.

I touch the tender spot on my thigh where Emmett’s fingers dug into me when he came. The bruise is already forming, a dull ache that sharpens when I press into it. My hand trails over my aching hips to my belly, the raw, open feeling below my belly button, to the naked ache between my legs. My face and neck feel raw where his beard rubbed on me, and the muscles in my core and legs are gently throbbing. My breath catches as I accidentally brush against my still-tender clit. I pull my hand away and just lie there for a second, taking inventory. My inner thighs are sore in a way that feels deeper than muscle. My lower back has that heavy, used feeling, like I spent the night doing something my body wasn’t built for and loved every second of it. There’s a faint sting on my hip where the edge of his carved headboard pressed into me when he flipped us over. I didn’t even feel it at the time. I was too far gone to feel anything that wasn’t him.

My eyes close and I shiver, recalling the whole encounter. He was so rough, so forceful, so… dominant. I’ve never felt more safe in my life, so close to danger. It’s like he held me together while he took me apart, both at once. I never thought I’d like being dominated like that, but I did. I loved it. The way he told me when I could come. The way he pulled my gaze back to him when I looked away. The way his voice dropped into that low growl that made my whole body clench. Hunter made me feel wanted. Beau made me feel wild. Emmett made me feel claimed, and the difference between those three things is the difference between a spark and a bonfire and a forest fire, and I walked into all three of them with my eyes open.

A twinge of disappointment settles in my chest. It’s over now. They’ve all had their turn, and that was the deal. It was a one-time thing. One time for each of them, which already stretched the definition of a one-time thing, but stretching it any farther would just break the deal entirely. I stare at the ceiling and try to feel okay about that. I try to feel grateful for what I got, because what I got was more than most people get in a lifetime. That should be enough. It should be more than enough.

It’s not.