She wanted to. Lord how she wanted to. His attentions had left her clit hot and swollen and still throbbing. He fell still, stopping with his cock buried deep inside her. He licked his finger and started stroking her clit with it.
She felt her muscles clench around his cock. Both men were large, bigger than some of her toys but not monstrously so. It felt so good having a warm, pulsing cock inside her instead of a plastic toy.
Libbie’s eyes met his. If he just…doesn’t…stop…
Another orgasm hit her, not quite as strong as the first. When he felt her coming, he started fucking her again, harder, faster, rubbing against her clit with every stroke. It drew out the ripples of pleasure bursting from her core as his cock pounded her until Charles finally came.
She held on to his arms as he caught his breath, watching the way his chest moved, the sculpted muscles across his torso.
She loved everything about him. About them.
Realizing the L-word had just crossed her mind again, she quickly struck it from her thoughts.
Nope. Won’t go there.
If she didn’t admit it, she didn’t feel it.
When Charles carefully withdrew, Ken moved to take his place while Charles headed for the bathroom. Ken sheathed his cock in a condom and quickly filled her cunt with it, slowly stroking inside her.
Charles returned from the bathroom and stretched out next to her with her head cradled in the crook of his arm.
“How do you want it, baby?” Ken softly asked, looking down at 140 Tymber Dalton
her. “Do you want one more, or are you worn out?”
She stroked his arms. “I want to watch you come.”
She loved his smile. Their smiles. Damn, they were so much alike.
He leaned forward and kissed her as he slowly made love to her. He took his time, and she felt the tension building in his body as he tried to hold back.
Libbie hooked her legs around his and met him stroke for stroke, their rhythm timed perfectly. He leaned in and kissed her as he picked up speed, until she felt his entire body stiffen when his cock grew and swelled inside her.
He let out one last moan before falling still. Then he rested his forehead against her chest as she wrapped her arms around him.
She snuggled securely between them with a happy sigh. Can life get any sweeter?
The men were good to their word. While they didn’t rudely invite themselves, she did ask them into her bed every night.
And every morning, the wake-up was fabulous.
The first weekend after their Halloween night tryst, Libbie barely made it out of bed Sunday or Monday. The men hadn’t exaggerated when they said they were going to keep her well fucked and well orgasmed.
She idly wondered if someone could die from too much pleasure before she decided she didn’t want to know, even if they could.
I’d die happy, at least.
After a couple of weeks, the men relented in their morning accosting of her. She’d felt guilty that plenty of mornings they took the time to get her off at least once, yet didn’t let her give them pleasure in return.
It wasn’t uncommon for Ken to go back to sleep after Charles and Libbie got up to get a shower following their morning romps. She It’s a Sweet Life 141
started getting down into the bakery a little later every morning, but with Charles there to help out, it didn’t slow them down too much.
Unlike most autumns, time seemed to streak past, her pain and symptoms no longer the barometer of her life. During the times when her pain reached the point she had to retreat to bed earlier than usual at night, she had one or both of the men there beside her, even if only cuddling with her and watching TV.
One Tuesday evening, after a brutal cold snap had set in during the day and dropped the temperature twenty degrees between lunchtime and dark, she was curled in bed with Galileo and Ken, watching TV and dozing. Charles had left two hours before the bakery closed to go run a few errands for himself. When Charles left, Ken had come down to the bakery to pitch in and help close down for the day, even though she really didn’t need him there.
Ken was perusing her Kindle, making cute little clucking and hmmm noises when a particular passage gave him ideas. “You’re sooo in trouble when you’re feeling better,” he teased when he finished reading one section. “I just saw something I want to try.”
She snuggled tightly against his side. “Is it in a hot tub?”
He laughed. “No. Why?”
“I’ve always wondered what that’s like. Or in a swimming pool.
Or even the ocean. When I still had a gym membership, before I opened the bakery, I would go work out for a little while and then soak in the hot tub to help my muscles loosen up. I wish I could have one.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s that hmm for?”
He shook his head and smiled down at her. “Nothing, baby. You just rest up and feel better.”
142 Tymber
Dalton
Chapter Fourteen
Charles and Ken both grew adept at baking and decorating pumpkin, pecan, and apple pies as Thanksgiving approached and people got their orders placed. Libbie sold them both fresh and frozen.
Admittedly, it was nice having two extra sets of hands instead of just one. It meant that even on her bad days, her fatigue wasn’t as bad.
And apparently a cleaning fairy had started taking care of her apartment. She’d go up for lunch to find the kitchen clean, the litter pan scooped, laundry clean and folded on the bed, and other things.
Neither man would own up to it, but she loved them even more for the care.
For her part, she didn’t ask for a discussion of “the future,” which she thought about as a vague, hopefully nonexistent theoretical event that would never arrive. Neither man ever spoke about leaving despite only having a six-month lease.
And Grover invited all three of them to come to his house for Thanksgiving dinner, although he did give her a caveat. “You might want to warn your men that Derrick’s mother-in-law has a stick wedged so far up her ass you can see it when she yawns. She’s not afraid to loudly condemn people to Hell when she don’t even know them.”
Libbie had never met the woman, but had heard stories about her.
She felt sorry for Derrick, but at least the woman lived in Atlanta and they didn’t have to put up with her most of the time.
I wonder how many other people out there will hassle me or the guys?
The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, despite a morning rush of It’s a Sweet Life 143
people picking up special orders, the customers slowed down to a trickle by ten. She’d shooed Charles out of the bakery because she’d overheard him discussing with Ken that he had an errand to run, and they were caught up on the daily list.
She also felt the urge to talk. Inside the bakery, she sometimes felt protected from the big, bad outside world. She didn’t have a lot of socializing other than with Grover and his family, and Mandaline and Sachi and a few others at Many Blessings. None of them gave a damn about Libbie’s unconventional arrangement.
And what kind of future do we have? The longer they went without talking about it, the more she worried about admitting to the men how she felt. Neither had yet to utter the L-word. Then again, neither had she. Did they see this as a fling that would end when the lease was up, or were they waiting to say anything until she did first?
Or would she admit how she felt and get her heart shot down in the process?