Page 56 of Right Side of Paradise

Always Knew I Could Love You

I didn’t regret getting in bed with Harlow and Soul last night. Just like I didn’t regret holding her against me and listening to her breaths until I fell asleep.

But my muscles were corded with the consequences.

My neck hurt.

My arms burned.

And my back was cursing me the hell out.

My only regret would have been not getting on this table when Soul offered after breakfast. We’d been doing the dishes once Rico left to drop off Harlow and run some errands.

Standing behind me at the sink, he set his hands on my shoulders and kneaded with his fingertips, pulling an immediate moan out of me.

“You’re tense. Let me get you right before tonight.”

I let him.

I stripped down to my briefs like I had so many times before and climbed between the sheets of his massage table while he cleaned his hands and got the oils ready.

Soul was dressed down too. The only thing he bothered to put on when we got out of bed were the gray sweat shorts slung low on his hips.

That’s it. And his obliques kept contracting with every move he made.

I didn’t question why my eyes were so drawn to the beauty of his body.

I couldn’t call it a newfound appreciation, but I could say I was leaning into it more.

With one hand propped under my head, I reclined on the table and watched him pour bottled water into the diffuser.

“Lavender or citrus?” he asked without turning around.

“Citrus.”

Seconds later, mist billowed into the air and Soul was in front of me. He kept one hand firm against the center of my back and used the other to pull his cart of massage oils closer.

“Bring your arms back on the table and rest them at your sides for me.”

The pressure of his touch against my back was already having a hypnotic effect. It didn’t matter that the massage hadn’t started yet.

“Relax. Deep breath in for me.”

My eyes closed, not needing more convincing.

In minutes, I’d settled into the ritual of his hands on me, and his soft voice in my ears.

I breathed when he told me to breathe.

Moved when he told me to move.

At the midway point, when he helped me turn over on my back, all I could think about was how good this room smelled, and how I never wanted him to stop touching me.

Once he had the cushion positioned under my knees, he rolled the sheet and tucked it so only my right leg was uncovered before he reached for his oils again.

The sound of him warming the oil between his palms almost put me to sleep.

“Let me know if I need to adjust the pressure,” he said, massaging it into my skin before he closed his fist and rolled it over my bunched muscles.

“Fuck,” I hissed. I’d been doing good. Keeping my whimpers and moans to myself in exchange for long exhales. But dammit, that felt good.

The oil slicking my skin made it easy for him to roll his knuckles over my thigh and down the side of my leg.

Then he held the sole of my foot and walked his elbow down my shin.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he instructed softly before repeating the action over and over again.

“Fuck, Soul.”

“I know, my love. But you’re doing so good.” He let go of my foot and focused solely on my thigh and knee. “We’re almost done with this leg.”

By the time he settled the sheet back over my body and moved to the other side, my fists were balled at my sides, and my exhales were coming out in pants.

I didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing that my briefs were tight enough to keep me from turning this sheet into a tent, but if he moved any higher up my thigh, he was going to see what he’d done to me.

My dick had been stiff since he called me ‘my love,’ and if I came in my pants during this damn massage…

“What’s wrong?” Concern coated his question as he held my left leg suspended just above the table and looked at me. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I promise you’re not.”

He hummed but continued the massage, and when he put the sheet back in place, my hips bucked on their own.

I was begging, albeit silently, for him to take care of me.

Now it was time for him to massage my hands and forearms, and when he found my fist balled against the table, he eyed me curiously. Patiently, he unclenched my fist and started on my hands. “What’s going on with you?”

“Soul, I’m hard as fuck right now.”

“I know.” He pressed his thumb into my palm. “You thought this sheet was hiding it?”

His words weren’t taunting and his face stayed neutral, but his eyes darkened a shade and my dick jumped against my thigh.

“It’s natural, Chris. Don’t worry about it.”

He was tripping if he thought I wasn’t going to worry about it when he followed that up by biting his lip and letting his lids form slits.

He breathed in and exhaled raggedly.

Like touching me was affecting him as much as it was affecting me.

I was rigid, swollen with arousal and my tongue felt thick in my mouth. But I was learning to ask for what I wanted instead of keeping it to myself. And I really needed him to want the same thing I wanted right now.

“Soul?”

Hooded eyes landed on me. “Yeah, my love?”

My love.

Again.

If I was wrong, I was about to find out. But I couldn’t be reading this wrong. All the touches. The hand holding. The glances that stuck to my skin like honey and went deeper than friendship.

“I want you,” I confessed on a sigh.

“I know you do.” Soul let go of my hand and arranged the sheet so my torso and groin were exposed.

He bit his lip again, then his hands were on my lower stomach, kneading and caressing. Then without missing a beat, he tugged on the band of my briefs and pulled them low on my hips.

My dick bobbed as the kiss of cool air on my skin contrasted with the warm precum smeared across my abdomen.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he recited like he had so many times before. Then he had my heavy balls in his grasp.

Again, my hips moved without my consent, jerking into his touch. I hissed, “It’s not too much.”

He gripped my shaft and started working his hand up and down.

I wasn’t trying to be quiet anymore and when my writhing grew wild, Soul held me down with too much ease that just made me want to fuck into his hand even more. “Be still, Chris. I got you.”

“I can’t be still,” I bit back, voice hoarse and teeth clenched as my abs contracted. It was damn near painful how much pent-up lust I had for him.

“All this fucking dick,” he praised, a little awe edging out his authoritative tone.

I tried to fist my dick, chasing the relief of a few well-timed strokes, but Soul wasn’t having it.

“Move your hand, Chris.”

I didn’t. Not yet.

“You been running from me all summer, and now you want to rush me?”

“B-baby.” The endearment slipped, but it felt good on my tongue. Better than his name. He was my baby and right now he was driving me crazy.

“I got you, now move your hands, and let me prove it.”

I moaned in protest but dropped my hand. Like some subconscious part of me wanted to obey every command he gave me.

A needy surge of my hips had my ass off the table and my dick chasing his hand.

“Stop moving, my love.” He kept his voice gentle, his words uncompromising. “Just lay there and take it.”

Fuckkkkk.

When I obeyed him again, he shot me a look overflowing with lust and tenderness and relief.

“I know you can take it, right?” He closed his oiled fingers around my tip and stroked slow and hard, pulling sounds out of me I’d never heard before.

“I-I can take it,” I stammered, the muscles in my neck pulling tighter with every caress of his hand.

One hand was tight around the head of my dick while the other massaged my shaft.

He had both hands on me— around me—and it still didn’t feel like enough.

“I’m a patient man, Chris.” He twisted his hands around my length, and I arched off the table, shameless and needy. “But you don’t know how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you.”

“Soul, fuck…your hands.”

It went on and on.

Me arching, him stroking.

The whole time I thought about his shorts still being on and how his only focus was me. And it sent my hips hitching harder, my heart beating faster.

This wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

The last time he had me on this table we were talking about being each other’s metamours. Now he had my legs open and dick in his fist while I was fighting for my fucking life.

Three of them.

I fell for all three of my best friends this summer. And I didn’t have a single regret.

I loved us.

Would do anything for us.

And now impossible wasn’t the first thought I had when the idea of us being a forever thing crossed my mind.

I deserved this. We deserved each other.

And that thought made me wanna come.

My balls tightened, my neck strained. I was falling apart on this table, and it felt like the most natural thing to do.

“Soul, I think I’m…coming.”

“Then come for me, handsome.” Soul stroked me until my body pulsed violently and the only thing I could feel was his hands and the cum spilling from my tip.

Warm spurts hit my stomach and chest, marking me with my own release.

Some time later, my dick softened against my thigh and that’s when I realized Soul had let me go.

But his eyes were on me, dark with desire and satisfaction. “You okay?”

“Hell yeah,” I wheezed, laughing when his lips pulled into a knowing smile.

He removed the cushion from under my knees and helped me sit up on the side of the table. Standing between my legs, he held my face. “Tell me I can kiss you.”

It seemed almost backwards, him asking for a kiss after that, but I nodded, already lowering my mouth to his. “You can do a whole lot more than kiss me, Soul.”

I braced my hands at his waist and soaked in the warmth of his bare skin. Our lips moved against each other in slow exploration. He had the softest kisses and the most addicting touch. A combination that spelled trouble. I couldn’t get addicted to another person in this house. But I already was.

Soul owned me as much as Harlow and Rico did. He always had.

“You’re mine now.” He kissed me briefly and stared at me. “I’ve been hooked on you all summer. I feel like I’ve been yours for a while, but now that I know you want me too, we not going back.”

I held his waist, silently agreeing. The only thing that felt different was the physical. Emotionally, I’d been his this whole time.

“Let’s take a shower,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb along my neck.

I was sitting here with my briefs around my knees and cum all over my stomach because of him, and now he was handling me like he was scared to hurt me.

It was like a flip had switched and he wanted to take care of me in other ways now that he’d made me see stars.

“And when we get out, I’m not gonna stop kissing you until I come.”

I spoke too soon. Too fucking soon.