The two men reached a co-operative arrangement, one thrusting ahead while the other drew back, plunging in and out, holding Elyssa still between them, covering her face and neck with their kisses. She knew that the best she could do was hold still, giving her pelvis an encouraging roll now then when they came particularly close to sending her up in explosive flames.
“You’re mine,” crooned Jay, and Patrick echoed the words.
“Mine too, mine too,” gasped Elyssa.
This had become their signal, the green light to go ahead and race for the finish. Whenever Elyssa said those words, “Mine too,” it meant that she was close to the edge, ready to erupt in the molten flood of orgasm.
With Jay buried in her rear and Patrick powering past her G-spot, she melted into trembles and whimpers, her body twisting against her two lovers while fronds of russet hair whipped their skin.
“Yes, yes,” hissed the men, acting upon their cue and letting their own pleasure take its forceful course, emptying their bodies and their hearts into Elyssa’s safe keeping.
A single organism made of three parts, they collapsed together upon the bed, limbs strewn everywhere, mussed hair in three different shades contrasting with the white bed linen.
“You know,” said Elyssa solemnly, trying to speak over the pounding of her heart, “I’m the luckiest woman alive.”
The men kissed each of her cheeks, lying still and silent for a while, watching the ceiling spin and feeling the enormity of their bond. For the first time, the future seemed assured and certain. This was no longer an experiment or a contest but a way of life.
“You certainly are,” yawned Jay. “So lucky that I’ve decided I never want to play you at Scrabble ever again.”
“Luck!” Elyssa sat up, hair flying, eyes vivid with outrage. “It was skill!”
“Quartz on a triple word score,” Patrick snorted. “Pure fluke.”
“Right, that does it,” fumed Elyssa. “Get the board! I’m going to thrash your arses once and for all.”
“Is that a promise?” drawled Jay, but Patrick was already rooting through the cupboard.
“Naked Scrabble,” he ordained. “Winner gets everything they ask for the rest of the night. Losers have to make dinner.”
The box landed on the bed with a clink of tiles. Elyssa laid out the board and began to fumble in the bag for her first seven letters.
“Oh look,” she said, laying down four of them across the central star. “Love. I think I’ve won already. Love should always win.”
The men could only agree with her.