by Kris Ripper
I abandoned the concept of always wanted for later contemplation. “If the two of you will permit us to go inside where it’s warmer I might find it in my heart to kiss one or both of you, though I will not be signing any contracts to that effect without my attorney’s clear approval.”
Jamie pressed against my back. “She approves the verbal contract whereby you agree to kiss one or both parties upon arrival at a warmer location. Preferably a bed.”
I made my voice put-upon, briefly fantasizing that she wrapped her arms around me. “Very well. I agree.”
“Yay,” Alex said.
Yay.
* * *
It’s a truth universally acknowledged that when you take your threesome to a more comfortable setting, it becomes way the fuck more awkward.
Unless you’ve had a whole lot to drink. Which I passionately argued in favor of but was voted down.
“Here, I’ll help,” Jamie said, in a tone that had fucking nothing to do with helping. Still, when she pushed me to sit on the bed, I sat. And when she pushed Alex beside me, I met his eyes, and some sort of mutual apology for awkwardness passed between us.
When Jamie guided our heads together, we kissed, and it wasn’t like we needed assistance at that point, but it also wasn’t like it felt that natural.
Then she said, “Over the clothes, boys. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” And walked out.
I managed to control myself before I actually sputtered in defiance. “What the hell?”
Alex touched my jaw. “Kiss me.”
“No, but—”
“She wants you to know it’s okay with her for us to kiss when she’s not in the room.”
Since Jamie was conveniently not in the room, I glared at Alex instead. “She already said that.”
“Yeah, but saying is different than showing. Will you kiss me, please?”
I kissed him, and it was still good, but it wasn’t exactly right, the way it had been on the porch. “We shouldn’t have come inside,” I murmured. “I’m such a fucking baby about being cold.”
“Nah, this is better.”
“This is…different. Weird now.” I looked away, because his eyes were too clear, and made me feel transparent. The moth in my chest had settled down. No pleasant buzz of alcohol or endorphins dulled the edge of self-consciousness. “I screwed up making out.”
“You said it was okay if I touched you.”
“Yeah?”
He pushed me over on my back and knelt over me. “You probably should have had your attorney go over the terms and conditions before you signed.”
“Clearly.”
A tap to my sternum. “She thinks you’d rather just be with me.”
“What? And also, seriously, that’s how you say something like that? Jesus, Alex.” I attempted to roll away, but he pressed down on my shoulders so I couldn’t. “Stop it! And I don’t!” I lowered my voice. “I mean, that’s not—yeah, for years, but not now. Not now. It’s still a little weird that she’s a chick, but that’s not why I balked last time.”
He leaned down and kissed me, then didn’t straighten up. “I remember the first moment you were ever enthralled by Jamie, and it was years back. You took longer to adjust than I did.”
I blinked. “When?”
“That wedding she went to, middle of July, in that first apartment after graduation, when we had that heat wave that caused all the brown outs. She was wearing a long skirt, and she was supposed to have on that sleeveless pinstriped top, but it wasn’t dry, so she’d pulled your shirt out of the hamper. Remember?”
His hands still pinned me to the bed. “Vividly.” I’d straightened my shirt over her shoulders and brushed it off as if it were a suit. Navy blue, v-neck, soft cotton T-shirt. Something about the way she’d worn it, the drape of the fabric over her breasts, had intrigued me.
“You thought she looked sexy,” Alex said. “Right?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. Not exactly. I thought she looked enticing in her skirt, fresh out of the shower, worried her shirt wouldn’t dry before she needed to leave. Intense spots of color on her pale cheeks, hair so wet it was almost black, dripping on the collar of my T-shirt. “I noticed her in a way I hadn’t before.”
He smiled a little crookedly. “Hey, me too. Any time you two want to swap clothes, I’ll definitely enjoy that.”
“You are a pervert.”
“Because I like gender swap?”
“It’s not gender swap you’re talking about. It’s Jamie and I as your own personal puppets.”
“Oh man. Yeah. That sounds totally hot.”
I rolled my eyes as was his due, and glanced toward the doorway. If she’d just gone to the bathroom, she should be back already. “Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with your lady?”
“You should talk to her.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Get off.” And it had been my order, but I still missed him when he obediently shifted to the side. “Cork! Goddammit, Cork!”
She wasn’t in the bathroom. The light was on in the attic stairwell, so I went up instead of down, and found her sitting on my mattress, reading a book. One of my books. She didn’t look up. “You’re gonna have to sleep with us. Everything up here is dusty again, but we can put it out on the line tomorrow, let the wind beat the dust out. Also, we should build the bed and bookshelves. You’re lucky we have a perfectly nice bed downstairs so you can—”
“Cork, shut the fuck up.”
She closed the book. “Okay.”
I realized I was somewhat aggressively looming over her and took a step back. “You think I don’t want to be with you? Because I don’t know if you noticed, but we’ve actually fucked before.”
“Once. When you were drunk. And you thought it was the only way you’d ever be with Alex.”
“That was the first time. What’re you calling the second time, then?”
She waved a hand, one of those gestures so purpose-built to look careless I knew it was acting. “Me facilitating the two of you fucking each other. Which, by the way, I have no problem with. I’ve done that for Alex before.”
I recoiled, stung. “So I’m just one of your randoms now?”
“That’s obviously not what I meant.”
“Sure sounded like it’s what you said.”
She sank back against my pillows, brushing curls out of her eyes. “Listen, I’m trying to say it’s okay with me. You two can get it on. I know how many years you’ve been thinking about him, and I know I’m not your type. It’s fine.”
I wanted to reference the anger that had felt so clean a moment ago, but she seemed so…resigned. To this thing that would hurt her, that’s she’d pretend wasn’t hurting her. A position with which I was familiar. I sat down on the mattress and drew my legs up. “It’s not like that.”
“It kinda is, Jus.”
“No, I mean…my ‘usual type’ is faceless and disposable. So no. You’re not.”
“Your usual type is a tall, skinny dom with a heavy hand.” She offered a weak smile. “I’m so not skinny.”
You are beautiful. You’re a fucking goddess. “You think I don’t like your body?”
“I shouldn’t care. Isn’t that what I’ve been working on for years? Not giving a fuck what people think of me? But I guess I’m kind of vain after all. Or I’m just using you to reprise the chorus of assholes in my head telling me I should lose some weight.”
“Jesus, Cork, this is me you’re talking to.” Reaching out was terrifying, but I forced myself to do it, and she clutched at my fingers without any other part of her moving. “Me, of all people. In the first place, I’m your champion, right?”
An old joke: I would be Lancelot to their Arthur and Guinevere. With all requisite threesome allusions built in.
“You’re my champion.” I couldn’t read her tone—a little flat. A little numb.
“Damn right. I get to slay anyone who talks shit about you, so stop talking shit. Also, I’m contractually obligated to find y
ou breathtaking.” Not even a flicker of response. “In the third place, hello, sort of an expert on eating disorders over here.”
“Oh, you’re an expert, now, are you?”
“I should at least get a certificate or something.” I focused on her fingers, the skin of her knuckles, the ragged edges of nails she’d bitten. “You know that’s not how it works. I don’t look at other people and think they should be something out of Tom of Finland. I look at you and…” But that was all too revealing. Too much me. “Alex says the first time I thought you were sexy was years ago, FYI.”
“Alex says?”
I shrugged. “Apparently I’m dense. He’s right, though. I remember the exact day he’s talking about. You had on my shirt.”
“I did? That’s weird.” It was better somehow that she didn’t remember, that it hadn’t meant anything to her. She’d grabbed the first shirt she’d found because she needed to put a shirt on, without thinking about it.
“It made sense at the time. Anyway, the point is I look at you and acknowledge that your physical shape is objectively attractive and desirable. Now can we please go downstairs and ravish your stupid boyfriend?”
She raised an imperious eyebrow. Good, good, back to normal. “Objectively?”
“I used to be a gay man,” I mumbled petulantly.
“What are you now?”
“A man who doesn’t give a flying fuck and really wants to make out. You seriously thought I was revolted by you?”
“Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t see why you wouldn’t be. Shit, no, that’s not what I meant. I’m not revolted by my body. I just know what that feels like, and I’d understand if you…weren’t interested…I don’t know. Obviously I really shouldn’t have confided in your meddling friend.”
“Obviously you should have told me you were having a pointless insecurity attack.” I took a slow breath and worked up the courage to slip my fingers along the skin above her sweatpants. “We should have stayed when Alex went back to work. I don’t know why it freaked me out so much.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She released my hand and stood up. “Time to throttle Alex for spilling secrets. Come on.”
I took her hand and she pulled me up, and then we were so close that reaching for her seemed like the only thing to do, so I did. Put my arms around her and pulled her in, even though she held herself stiffly for a few seconds before hugging me back. Something was off. “Cork.”
“We should go downstairs.”
It didn’t feel like she was shutting me down—her body didn’t do any of the things bodies do when they don’t want to be touched—but there was something in her voice. I removed my hand. “I do something wrong?”
“God. No.” She captured both of my hands, raised them to brush my knuckles against her cheek. “I’m as bad as he is, dreaming about you. It’s somewhat embarrassing.”
“You dream about me?” I ducked to catch her eye. “What do I do in these dreams? Tell me all about them. I bet I’m a fabulous lover, aren’t I? All dashing and confident.”
Slight head shake. “Sometimes.”
“Is dream-me hotter than dream-Alex? You can tell me. I’m way better at keeping secrets than he is.” An obvious tease, trying to make her smile, but the way she avoided me was irresistible. I pressed against her. “C’mon, Cork. Are these wet dreams? How steamy are they?”
“We should go downstairs.”
I shrugged like I didn’t care. “Okay. But does Alex know? Because he’s definitely the weakest link.”
“I don’t tell Alex everything.” She put the book back on the bookshelf box. “And they blow my mind, they’re so fucking hot, these dreams.” She wiggled her fingers and walked down the stairs.
I grasped desperately for some kind of comeback, something clever to call after her. After a full minute of the kind of trying-to-be-clever that only turned into panic-hued ineptitude, I gave up and followed her back to the bedroom.
Chapter Ten
ALEX WAS LOUNGING back in their bed, watching V for Vendetta for roughly the thousandth time.
“So,” I said, taking a position beside Jamie, who had her hands on her hips. “We bore him, I take it?”
“He’d rather watch a movie than hang out with us, apparently.”
“Is ‘hanging out’ the only thing on the menu? I was under the impression there would be making out at this party.” I wasn’t sure if the tease would work, not after the weirdness in the attic, but now that we were in their bedroom—now that it was the three of us—Cork seemed ready to spar.
She turned to me with narrow eyes, distracting me from watching Alex try very hard to pretend he couldn’t hear us. “You offering?”
“To make out? I believe I verbally committed to that, yes.”
“Good point. You don’t want to know what I do to people who fail to honor their commitments. You think if we start making out, he’ll turn off the movie?”
Making out with Jamie. Good lord. I wished I knew what the difference was between what we’d been doing upstairs, and what we were doing now. “I bet he can’t hold out for ten minutes.”
“Aw, Jus. You underestimate us. I bet he can’t hold out for five.” She advanced, and both of us grinned as I allowed her to push me against the wall directly behind the chair with the computer on it. So even if he was trying to watch the movie, he’d still see us.
“You don’t think much of your man’s stamina, Cork.”
“Oh, I hold Alex and his stamina in high regard.” She reached for my wrists and tucked my hands behind my neck, surprising me a little. “No touching.”
Damn. I searched her face. “You gonna ravish me?”
“You can touch me when Alex turns the movie off.”
“Ahh. Fucking with his incentives. I approve.” I shifted, for stability and also because standing there with my elbows out was awkward, a little unsettling.
“Having you at my mercy isn’t exactly a burden. Hiya, boy.” She pushed my shirt up, skimming her palms over my chest.
“Jesus, your hands are cold.” And fuck, it was a twisty sort of shame, letting her expose me with Alex in the background, watching. And he wasn’t trying to pretend he was doing anything else now. His eyes were on us.
After a moment, his eyes were on mine and I bit my tongue to keep from looking away. Jamie pinched one of my nipples and I jolted with it.
Alex’s mouth hung open, gaze riveted.
“You want me to hurt you now, Jus?” The hand that held my shirt bunched at my shoulder squeezed.
“Yes.” My voice was ragged, my senses all dialed in to her thumb, scraping at my nipple.
“I want to kiss you.”
My fingernails dug into my palms, still pressed behind my neck. “Do it, for fuck’s sake.”
“Take off your shirt.”
I complied and returned my hands to their previous position, winning me another pinch.
“Good boy. Keep holding still like that.”
I hated good boy, but, coupled with her mean little fingers and the unholy and exhilarating thrill of Alex watching, it hit the right note. I could have demanded she follow through. Maybe even should have—so she didn’t think she’d won too easily, or to save a little face—but now that my shirt was out of the way both of her hands were on me, and I couldn’t think straight.
“Yes or no to marks, Jus?”
“Yes,” I growled, arching into her. “Goddammit.”
One of her hands pinned me none too gently against the wall, thumb and forefinger pressing up under my jaw, palm against my throat. Nowhere near tightly enough to restrict my breathing, but swallowing was slightly uncomfortable.
Jamie’s face, right in front of mine, eyes bouncing between my own. “Stay. Still.” Then she kissed me, enforcing my obedience with one hand while the other scratched all the way up my side. I could envision the white lines in skin, before the rush of blood turned them pink.
Some people get off on being marked because they enjoy feeling owned
, if only for a few minutes. Other people feel stronger for the evidence of what they can take.
For me it’s more about changing state, about the constant transformation of body and mind and dynamics between me and whoever I’m with. It’s never one way. Even the least seasoned amateur, if they respect what they’re doing at all, is changed by being the one who lays down the marks.
I get off on being the evidence of that change. The medium of it.
She pinched the soft, vulnerable skin on the underside of my arm and kissed me when I gasped. Her head moved down, nibbling at my collarbone before kissing all the way to the same spot she’d just pinched, and biting me there instead.
My breaths rasped through my mouth, pinned open with the pressure of her fingers still tucked up under my jaw. The underside of the arm is usually protected, neatly guarded by the side of the body, hardly ever exposed. Tears sprang to my eyes as she sucked and chewed one spot until she was satisfied.
When she raised her head I expected to see triumph. She had to have known how much that hurt, how wrong it felt. But instead she was almost shy, for a second, until she met my eyes.
Which were full of tears I was desperately trying not to let spill.
Then she was on me, aligning our bodies, her arms dragging my hands over my head and keeping them there as she ground against me, tearing kisses from my lips, and all the time staring right into my goddamn eyes, the intensity of it so overwhelming that if I could have looked away, I would have.
But I was every bit as transfixed, thrusting up to meet her body, raising my chin so she could better scrape her teeth along my throat.
A sudden abrupt click and the sound from the movie cut out.
“I win,” she murmured against my skin, and released my hands.
“Off, off, off. Get this fucking thing out of my way.” I fumbled, trying to untuck her damn shirt.
Alex laughed. “I got it.”
I saw the shift in Jamie’s eyes, the tiny muscular contraction around them. “Wait.” We’d done it before, been naked together. But something still wasn’t quite right. I used my new freedom to brush her hair back and kiss her. “Cork. Talk to me.”