have some of that mouth.”
They both met her in a kiss then. Of three. Tongues and lips, the edge of teeth. She gasped again when Hatch’s fingers returned to her cunt, grasping her clit between the pads of his thumb and middle finger.
“People are watching us, Summer. Watching my hands on you, between your thighs. Watching Charlie play with your nipples. Your hips churning as you ride my hand. You want it and they all know it.”
There was no denying it. Her body couldn’t make her a liar.
“Yes.”
“You’re mine. Mine and Charlie’s.”
She didn’t answer. Instead she sucked in a breath as climax shot through her. She turned her face into Charlie’s neck as she sobbed her release, barely even registering it as her dress hem fell back into place and Hatch pressed against her, hugging her and Charlie to him.
“I’m so hard I’m not sure I can walk,” Charlie said as he kissed her temple and then Hatch’s lips.
“Hobble back to our table. I’ll buy you an ale.”
“Funnel cake.”
Hatch grinned as they moved back to their table. The dance floor had filled with others. All around people kissed, petted, snuggled, some fucked or sucked. The entire Commons hummed with sexual and sensual energy.
“Funnel cake. I haven’t had any in so long. Years. You can have as much as you want.”
Summer smiled and looked to Charlie as they sat. “One of my dads made funnel cakes during the holiday season. My mother loves them.”
Hatch put an arm around her shoulders as he waited to get the attention of the ale server. “Does she still make that jam to go with it?”
“Strawberry and blackberry. There are hills full of berry bushes near their house in Portland. She goes out and collects them. It used to be my dad’s job. Yancy, he died four years ago. It’s sort of her little tribute to him when she does it. Anyway.”
Hatch sighed, playing with the tail of her braid. “I sent your mother a letter.”
Summer turned to him, surprised. “You did? About what?”
“My condolences. I should have done it a long time ago.”
“Okay then.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say?”
She’d been trying to walk that line. They were having a perfectly lovely evening and she didn’t want to start a fight. But that he hadn’t actually written her mother or contacted her in any way was a problem for Summer.
“What do you want? A blue ribbon for expressing your condolences—four years late—to someone whose table you sat at for at least seventy percent of your childhood?”
“Hey, that’s harsh.” Charlie tapped her hand.
She pulled her hand back, narrowing her gaze at him. “Is it? Come on. What am I supposed to say to that? Or I guess I should ask what is an acceptable way to answer that? Should you prepare comments for me first since you’re both so uncomfortable with my true feelings?”
“I didn’t say that. He’s trying and you slapped him for it.”
“You did say that actually. He made a statement. I replied. He could have left it at that but he pushed. I answered. My dad died. It was ugly. He had Park-B type one cancer. You can’t possibly imagine what it was like to watch him just waste away. He was six and a half feet tall. Hale. Hearty and strong. He was barely a hundred pounds when he died. It took her four months after that before she left the house. Don’t you tell me what’s harsh. You don’t know anything about it. I don’t need anyone to police my feelings. You understand me? You can fuck me and eat my pussy but no one owns my feelings but me. No one gets to tell me what is and isn’t okay to feel.”
“No, she’s right.” Hatch turned her head with a finger on her chin. “You can say what you feel to me. I should have contacted her before. I ran. I ran from my past. From her. From you. From everything I was before so I could be someone else. I felt like I had to cast it all off or be drowned by it. Like I couldn’t have it if I stayed in Portland, even with you.
They both met her in a kiss then. Of three. Tongues and lips, the edge of teeth. She gasped again when Hatch’s fingers returned to her cunt, grasping her clit between the pads of his thumb and middle finger.
“People are watching us, Summer. Watching my hands on you, between your thighs. Watching Charlie play with your nipples. Your hips churning as you ride my hand. You want it and they all know it.”
There was no denying it. Her body couldn’t make her a liar.
“Yes.”
“You’re mine. Mine and Charlie’s.”
She didn’t answer. Instead she sucked in a breath as climax shot through her. She turned her face into Charlie’s neck as she sobbed her release, barely even registering it as her dress hem fell back into place and Hatch pressed against her, hugging her and Charlie to him.
“I’m so hard I’m not sure I can walk,” Charlie said as he kissed her temple and then Hatch’s lips.
“Hobble back to our table. I’ll buy you an ale.”
“Funnel cake.”
Hatch grinned as they moved back to their table. The dance floor had filled with others. All around people kissed, petted, snuggled, some fucked or sucked. The entire Commons hummed with sexual and sensual energy.
“Funnel cake. I haven’t had any in so long. Years. You can have as much as you want.”
Summer smiled and looked to Charlie as they sat. “One of my dads made funnel cakes during the holiday season. My mother loves them.”
Hatch put an arm around her shoulders as he waited to get the attention of the ale server. “Does she still make that jam to go with it?”
“Strawberry and blackberry. There are hills full of berry bushes near their house in Portland. She goes out and collects them. It used to be my dad’s job. Yancy, he died four years ago. It’s sort of her little tribute to him when she does it. Anyway.”
Hatch sighed, playing with the tail of her braid. “I sent your mother a letter.”
Summer turned to him, surprised. “You did? About what?”
“My condolences. I should have done it a long time ago.”
“Okay then.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say?”
She’d been trying to walk that line. They were having a perfectly lovely evening and she didn’t want to start a fight. But that he hadn’t actually written her mother or contacted her in any way was a problem for Summer.
“What do you want? A blue ribbon for expressing your condolences—four years late—to someone whose table you sat at for at least seventy percent of your childhood?”
“Hey, that’s harsh.” Charlie tapped her hand.
She pulled her hand back, narrowing her gaze at him. “Is it? Come on. What am I supposed to say to that? Or I guess I should ask what is an acceptable way to answer that? Should you prepare comments for me first since you’re both so uncomfortable with my true feelings?”
“I didn’t say that. He’s trying and you slapped him for it.”
“You did say that actually. He made a statement. I replied. He could have left it at that but he pushed. I answered. My dad died. It was ugly. He had Park-B type one cancer. You can’t possibly imagine what it was like to watch him just waste away. He was six and a half feet tall. Hale. Hearty and strong. He was barely a hundred pounds when he died. It took her four months after that before she left the house. Don’t you tell me what’s harsh. You don’t know anything about it. I don’t need anyone to police my feelings. You understand me? You can fuck me and eat my pussy but no one owns my feelings but me. No one gets to tell me what is and isn’t okay to feel.”
“No, she’s right.” Hatch turned her head with a finger on her chin. “You can say what you feel to me. I should have contacted her before. I ran. I ran from my past. From her. From you. From everything I was before so I could be someone else. I felt like I had to cast it all off or be drowned by it. Like I couldn’t have it if I stayed in Portland, even with you.
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