Humming along to the playlist running on her Bluetooth speaker, Avery flipped a pancake, her neck damp from wet hair that she'd had no time to dry if she was going to get breakfast started. The music was low enough that she heard someone coming down the stairs, so it was no huge surprise when she felt a hand on her rear, and an arm reach for a piece of bacon from the plate beside the stove.
Catching a glimpse of the longer light brown hair from the corner of her eye, she sighed, flipped another pancake. "What is with you guys and my butt?" she asked.
She received a firm squeeze before Mason leaned against the counter beside her. "It's hard to resist," he replied, then took a bite from the bacon with a wicked grin. He was feeling much better after his long shower, and had finally relieved all the pressure that had built up through the night. With all the time he'd spent, he'd managed to bolster some confidence as well, enough to try and push for time with Avery.
After all, they'd spanked her naked ass last night and she'd slept between them. Their relationship was amid a drastic shift, whether that was a positive thing, he didn't know. But he had until tomorrow to figure it all out and intended to do everything he could to see what direction it would take. And he'd found her cooking breakfast in a loose white halter top that left a good six inches of skin exposed between the fabric and her black panties that had lace trim. Not at all normal day-wear, despite the fact that she'd showered, which had to have been done on purpose.
He was convinced she was feeling it too.
Setting the last pancake on the plate, Avery looked at Mason, who was finishing the strip of bacon. His hair was still wet, tied back, and he wore a black sleeveless shirt and cargo shorts. "Breakfast is ready. Where's Carter?"
"He's here," she heard in the distance, and spun around to find him sliding onto a stool at the kitchen bar.
Carter had suggested the tank and panties, but he hadn't expected a follow through, let alone to the extent she'd taken it. The back had been sexy to see, but the front . . . the halter fell just inches below her breasts and those little black panties were so low cut in the front, offering the full view of her tiny waist and hips. Moreover, the sexy lines her pelvic bones made, how they protruded due to the fact she didn't have an ounce of fat on her.
Placing her hands on her hips, her eyes flicked between Mason and Carter. "A little help?" she asked.
"Yup," Mason said, and they were both in motion, grabbing plates and glasses, orange juice, condiments while she deposited the plates of food on the bar. Meals always took place in the kitchen unless it was dinner, when that would be served in the dining room on her stepmother's insistence that they always eat properly with family when home.
Finally, everyone had a place along the bar and began to dish up. "Thanks for cooking," Carter said with a wink at Avery. He absolutely loved that she'd done as he asked, as though she were telling him she was willing to follow an order and a sure sign she would continue to do so.
Breakfast was finished with complete normality, conversing so casually you'd never know as an outside observer that anything had changed. They shared amusing anecdotes from the party the night before, leaving out the wee hours, of course. Avery finished first and brought her plate to the sink, rinsing it then placing it into the dishwasher. "I've gotta go dry my hair," she told the boys, releasing the clip and using it to brush out the twist.
"We'll probably go watch some TV," Carter said, looking to Mason and receiving a nod. "It's a nice day though. Maybe after we've relaxed for a while we can take a swim this afternoon?"
"Sounds good," Avery said, then left the kitchen to get upstairs.
Once Mason knew she was long gone, he picked at his last piece of bacon. "That little outfit?" he began, then plopped a piece into his mouth while glancing sideways at Carter. "Is that for real?"
Carter stood up and began to clean his plate. "Might just be because she wanted to rush and make breakfast," he mused, knowing that was not the truth. Leaning back against the counter, he folded his arms over his chest. "Or maybe it's her way of saying she's okay with everything that happened. And maybe okay with it continuing."
"That's the read I got," Mason replied, shaking his head in wonder. He laughed silently as he finished the last bite of bacon. "You know I woke up and my hand was just below her chest. All I wanted was to feel her."
Shrugging, Carter said, "You probably could have."
"Nah, she was asleep," Mason argued. He held up his forefinger and thumb. "I was
this close
to doing it, too. It was fucking infuriating how turned on I was, so I just got up."
"And opened the curtains," Carter added, raising a brow.
"Yeah, 'cause I wanted you guys to wake up," Mason fired back through a chuckle. "There was no way I could just fall back asleep at that point, and I wasn't about to sit around for hours while you guys slept in." Lowering his gaze, Mason ran his fork through the syrup, drawing circles. "We have her on lockdown here, and I don't know what that means. I just know I want to touch her." He gulped. "Try to take advantage of the time we have and see." Glancing back up to gauge his brother's reaction, he frowned. "Is that weird?"
Carter pressed away from the counter and grabbed Mason's dishes. "Maybe we just stop asking that question. Whenever you say it, it makes it weird," he explained, loading the last items and pouring cleaner into the reservoir. "We already determined last night that it's not weird that we were in this together. And judging by what she was wearing . . . I dunno. I think she is embracing the
ours until Sunday
thing."
"That or offering her own form of punishment by torturing us," Mason mused. "Well, at least torturing me. I have no idea where you stand on the whole thing."
"Oh, I'm right there with you," Carter said without hesitation. After everything that had happened while Mason had been in the shower, he was wondering more and more if she actually owned him and not the other way around. She didn't have to know that, however. "Let's go see what's on tv."
***
Avery entered the living room, honey blonde hair in a loose braid that fell down over her left shoulder. And sure enough, she hadn't changed into real clothes. Carter and Mason sat at opposite ends of the couch, purposefully, and Carter patted the center as he said, "We were just going to start a movie."
"Awesome," Avery replied, making her way around the coffee table. "You were right, it's like ninety outside. Pool will be great, but thanks to Mason opening those fucking curtains, I could use some rest. Maybe even a nap when we're finished."
"Sorry about that," Mason said contritely as she sat down.
"You should be," Avery fired back.
Carter placed his hand on her thigh. "No fighting," he said, then gently tugged at Avery, lifting her silky legs onto his lap. "Just lay down," he urged. "Watch a movie. Pass out here if you want."
Leaning back on her hands while looking over her shoulder, Avery saw Mason grab a pillow and place it on his lap, and she turned to her side and laid her head upon it, feeling moderately comfortable. If it weren't for everything that had happened thus far, this was somewhat similar to when they all lived here before, though usually the pillow was at a hip and not on a lap, and her feet curled up instead of draped over thighs.
Mason started the movie, but watched Avery as she shifted, tucking a few loose strands behind her ear then finally resting her left hand on his knee. Given that she had done this, he placed his hand on her shoulder, once again feeling his heart begin to race with longing. She was so delicate and beautiful . . . and so much exposed skin. He had no idea how he'd focus on the movie.
On the other hand, the movie was irrelevant as far as Carter was concerned; it was simply an excuse to keep her near. With his left hand resting on her calf, he skimmed his fingers over her thigh with feather-light touches, his gaze flicking from his hand to her face; she hadn't glanced his way yet, her eyes trained on the screen.
However, it wasn't long before his desire intensified, maybe fifteen minutes of playing it cool had passed. Flattening his palm, he rubbed up her thigh while bending her knee outwards with the other, making it easier for his hand to stop on her left cheek, and he began to knead her ass over her black panties.
Mason felt Avery clutch his leg and shift as she exhaled a moan and glanced over, finding Carter groping her. What surprised him was that she hadn't protested at all; hadn't even looked his way, her eyes still on the screen. For a moment he felt jealous, but it passed as he realized just how comfortable Avery was and how much progress had been made. If she wasn't putting up an argument, it meant that she now deemed this acceptable. His hand had stayed put on her shoulder, but he let it travel down her side, over her halter until he felt skin, and ran his thumb in circles against the back of her ribcage, massaging her.
Avery had completely lost track of the movie, her eyelids gently closing as her breathing sped up. Part of her hated that it felt so good; Mason massaging her side and back, Carter squeezing and rubbing her butt. But the other part repeated what Carter had said this morning: why did all their touching have to be fighting and wrestling? Why couldn't it be massages? They did care about each other, there was love there, albeit not the kind of love that had prompted Carter to finger her to orgasm this morning. That still bothered her; mostly because she was so conflicted by it.
Her halter was rising in the back, Mason's thumb massaging just below her bra, which placed his forefinger against the underwire of her cup, and Avery's lids squeezed shut as the internal struggle intensified. What had happened with Carter had been completely inappropriate, but she'd come to accept it, even feeling excited (though apprehensive) over what he'd meant by saying she was his. But now Mason? That thumb was now over the lace of her bra in the back, and now it was his middle finger along the underwire; his forefinger on her bra. Yet still, a tiny moan escaped her as her back arched without her control.
