by K. A Knight
“Close enough,” he laughs, holding the piece near my mouth.
I bite into it and pull away. Mmm, bacon. This is the nectar of the Gods. Some people mistakenly think it’s wine or coffee, but the truth of the matter is, bacon is life.
“Thank you, Grant, for being the best boyfriend ever.” Grant pitches his voice high, obviously mocking me.
I brush my lips to his cheek, still chewing on my bacon and crinkle my nose up at him.
“Thanks, Grant, for being the best boyfriend ever.”
“I’m wounded,” Patrick drawls from his place by the door.
Grant looks to him, his eyes falling downward for a moment and then he shakes his head. He looks equal parts disgusted and amused.
“For God’s sake man, put some clothes on, please.”
“You said bacon, I came running. I needed to beat the Misery monster to breakfast or I wouldn’t have gotten any damn bacon at all. I know how she is.”
“He’s not wrong,” Trey calls out from the hallway in a gruff voice.
I peer around the corner at him. He’s stumbling toward the bathroom in nothing but his boxer briefs. Lord, that man still looks like he’s twenty-one. My ovaries do a few flip flops then I train my eyes on Patrick leaning casually against the wall, naked as the day he was born.
“Seriously dude, put that thing away. I think it just winked at me.” Grant slams his plate down on the counter dramatically and covers his eyes.
“I’m the best boyfriend, for obvious reasons.” Patrick wiggles his eyebrows at me.
“Oh? Do tell.” I grab a plate and load it down with eggs, sausage, and some toast before I grab my seat at the table.
“Well, for starters, there’s all this.” Patrick waves his hands down his body and I bite back a grin. “I also am the only boyfriend who isn’t mooching off you.”
Smack!
I cover my mouth to keep my food inside it when Grant slaps Patrick upside the back of the head.
“I’m not mooching!” He snaps. His words lack the sting they would have if he was actually offended. “I’m organizing a mission right now.”
“Oh, did you figure out a way to make money off doing mission trips?”
“No, that’s not the point—”
“Mooching.” Patrick snatches a piece of toast from Grant’s plate before sliding into a seat at the table beside me. “I still have my own house and a whole job,” he notes. “Least moocher, here. At your service.”
My head shakes back and forth as I watch the two of them devolve into bickering over what constitutes mooching and what doesn’t.
“I’m mooching.” Trey leans down and kisses my ear softly. “Good morning baby.”
“Morning mooch!” I beam up at him, craning my neck so I can see his face. He looks more tired than usual. “Rough night?”
“Was busy mooching at the bar,” he yawns, tossing me a wink. “One day, I’m going to quit that place.”
“You really should. Honestly, you don’t make any money there, and I happen to know you have a rich girlfriend who would be glad to—”
“No!” three voices shout at the same time.
My eyes blink slowly as I realize all three of the men are glowering at me, arms crossed over their chests. Each of them is in various stages of dress. Grant is fully clothed, Trey has nothing on but underwear, and Patrick is naked. And they’re all sitting around the table like it’s any normal Saturday morning.
“I know, I was just saying I could help, you know.” I shrug, ignoring the buzzing cell phone on the counter. Some reporter has been wanting to do a story about my success as a businesswoman, something for my hometown, she had said. Wincing at the thought of any more attention, I toss my guys a sheepish smile. “It wouldn’t hurt a thing. I have plenty.”
“You already let me live here, I’m not taking your money. I want to be able to help more.”
“Help with what?” I ask, honestly confused. “It’s not like there are bills that need to be paid here. Everything is paid up for a few years, at least. I got drunk one night and overpaid everything. Blame Grant.” I point to him across the table.
Grant smiles into his coffee cup, opening his Bible.
“That’s the thing. I don’t want to be taking advantage of your generosity forever. What am I goin’ to do if you ever kick me to the curb and marry one of these fools?”
I blink, swallowing hard at the casual mention of marriage.
Grant looks up from his studying, glancing around the table before he closes the Bible.
Patrick coughs, scratching behind his ear.
“Well, I can’t marry any of them—even if they wanted to marry me. Not that I think they do,” I rush out. “I just mean, I couldn’t ever commit to just one of you. That wouldn’t be right.”
“What about kids, Mizz?” There are circles under Trey’s eyes I’ve never noticed before. Has he not been sleeping at all?
“What about them? I’m on birth control. And if something were to happen . . . well, I have enough to support myself and any surprises.”
Trey slams his hand down on the table, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
My eyes go wide.
Patrick lays a hand on Trey’s shoulder, nodding.
“I get it man, but you need to calm down. What you’re not gonna do is raise your voice to our girl first thing in the morning.”
“Get off me,” Trey growls, shoving away from the table.
I watch his back as he leaves the kitchen, heading for his own bedroom. There’s something going on there that I’m going to have to fix.
Patrick looks to me with an apologetic smile on his face. “He’ll be okay. I think not contributing is really getting to him.”
“The mooching jokes probably don’t help,” Grant adds with a nod.
“Mhm.” I push my eggs around my plate, wondering what could be bugging Trey so much. There’s really no need for any of us to worry about anything. I have more money than I could possibly spend, more money than my future kids, or even grandkids, could spend. What is with the sudden worry about all of that? And marriage? I shake my head as images of three grooms standing at the altar flash through my mind. Grant’s parents would kill him.
My dad had come around to my lifestyle in the past few years. We had a sort of silent understanding. One day, he just stopped asking questions he didn’t want the answer to. My mom adores all the guys; she always has.
“I’ll talk to him later, when he’s not so moody.” Grant screws his nose up in distaste. “’Till then,” he murmurs, pulling my chair closer to his. My legs are trapped between his knees, but I don’t mind. This is the best. Grant slides a hand up my neck and cups the back of my head, his fingers twining in my hair as me pulls me in for a deep kiss.
Our lips play, testing and tasting one another. Patrick clears his throat, but Grant just laughs against my lips, flipping him off.
I swat at his hand, pulling away from the kiss.
Patrick leans over the table, brushing his lips against mine chastely. He’s still very much naked and I can tell there’s nothing chaste about his intentions. That kiss is misleading.
“I thought we were going to have a peaceful breakfast until Trey got all weird,” Patrick murmurs, sliding the plates to the edge of the table. He grips my wrists and pulls me on top of the stone, the cold marble hitting my back where my t-shirt has ridden up.
Grant slides a hand over my thigh, brushing his fingertips against my bare pussy while Patrick licks my bottom lip. Tempters. They’re tempters, both of them.
“What do you two think you’re doing—”
“Shhh, Misery,” Grant instructs before he puts his mouth to better use.
My back arches off the table when his tongue slips between my pussy lips, teasing my clit. My hands instinctively go to his head, threading my fingers in his dark hair.
“Oh fuck!” My eyes flutter shut as fingers close around my nipples, twisting them in the most
delightfully painful way. I’m not even sure whose hands are on my breasts. I can’t bring myself to care as I focus on each individual sensation.
Wet tongue. Dry fingers. My skin prickles at the back of my neck as Grant slides two fingers inside me, teasing my walls with his fingertips. Ah, so the hands on my breasts must be Patrick then. I open my eyes in time to see Patrick lean down and cover one nipple with his mouth.
His tongue swirls around the puckered flesh over and over, grazing his teeth against the skin when he’s done.
“You two,” I pant, wetting my lips with my tongue. Patrick’s cock bobs dangerously close to my mouth where he’s leaned over me.
Grant finger fucks me at an agonizing pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of me as deep as he can. He bites down on my clit and sucks.
I squirm under his attentions, moaning out. Patrick’s cock brushes against my lips. I flick my tongue out against the tip, savoring the salty flavor beading on the slit. Patrick has the longest cock of my guys, but Trey has the thickest. Grant is a nice medium size, in both length and girth.
Patrick hisses in a breath and bucks his hips, finally allowing his cock to slide into my mouth. I twirl my tongue around the head, carefully sucking the shaft as he slips over my tongue.
“I think someone is a little excited,” Grant purrs against my sensitive pussy. He curls his fingers against my g-spot and stars erupt behind my lids.
Pressure builds in my core and I moan against Patrick’s cock as I untwist one of my hands from Grant’s hair. I need to steady myself. I brace my hand against his thigh, easing my mouth further down his length until the tip of his cock is pressing against the back of my throat.
“Fuck!” Patrick hisses, his hand going to my hair.
“Oh god,” Grant moans against my pussy.
I whimper when Grant pulls his fingers away, but the rip of a zipper has my heart skipping. My tongue dances across Patrick’s dick in patterns, my fingernails digging into his thigh as Grant’s cock rubs against my wet slit.
“You want me inside you when you cum, beautiful?” Grant’s voice is like a gravelly avalanche coming for my core.
“Mhm.” I barely manage to mumble that version of yes around Patrick’s cock.
He’s sliding his hard length in and out of my mouth, half-heartedly fucking my face while he takes turns sucking on one nipple and then the other.
Grant slides inside me slowly, stretching my pussy open.
I whimper against the dick in my mouth, my fingers digging into Patrick’s leg as my core spasms around Grant’s cock. My body adjusts to the new invader quickly and Grant begins rocking in and out of me slowly, twisting his hips so the head of his cock bumps my g-spot every time he slides back in.
“Oh God,” Patrick murmurs.
I suck harder on his cock, massaging my tongue along the shaft. It’s hard to pull my neck back in the position we’re in, but I bob my head along the shaft as best as I can.
“Fuck!” Grant growls, picking up the pace. His thighs slapping against mine sets a soundtrack I love hearing.
The sound of the guys enjoying themselves sets me over the edge. The moaning. The sound of skin slapping skin. Grant’s cock swells in my pussy and my core tightens around him, milking his cock.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Grant hisses under his breath, his strokes are uneven, unrestrained.
My tongue slides up and down Patrick’s cock.
Patrick bites down on my breast and I groan against his cock. My legs tremble and the lights around us get brighter before they begin to blur.
“Fuck! Yes. Cum, baby.” Patrick turns his attention to my face, sliding a hand into my hair as I suck harder on his cock.
Riding out the orgasm is hard when Grant is pounding my pussy as hard as he can. I shudder when Patrick’s cock twitches in my mouth. I look up at him where he’s now kneeling on the table above me. His teeth sink into his lip as I swirl my tongue along the edges of the head of his cock and warmth shoots into my mouth.
“G-g-god!” Patrick’s eyes roll in the back of his head.
“Oh fuck, Misery—” Grant slides a hand up to my tit, grabbing on for dear life as he slams deep inside me. Slow but hard strokes have always sent me over the edge.
I arch my back, rocking my hips up to meet his thrusts. Patrick’s cock slips from my mouth and my eyes meet Grant’s for the first time since he slid inside me.
Ice blue eyes stare back at mine as he grinds up into my cervix at the end of every stroke.
“Grant!” I cry out, my fingers reaching out for him. The need to feel his skin under my fingers is unbearable. I finally reach his forearm, just barely.
He pulls on my legs, sliding me farther down to the edge of the table. My ass hangs off the edge, the pressure on my lower back doesn’t feel great, but I’m quickly distracted when he slides back inside me.
“Holy fuck!” I whimper. That angle is life.
Grant bites down on his lip, slamming into me over and over. His eyebrows cinch together, his eyes slide shut and I feel my own orgasm cresting around the corner.
“Cum for me, beautiful.” Grant twists his hips, bumping my g-spot and I shatter around him.
Everything stops for a moment. I couldn’t breathe right now if I wanted to. My fingers score his arms, digging for something to hold on to while I shake against his cock.
Grant groans as my pussy tightens around his cock. Warmth shoots deep inside me and I suck in a hiss of air. He leans over, kissing my belly gently before he slides out of me.
“Good morning,” Patrick says in a sing-song voice behind me.
I stare up at the ceiling, trying not to let my smile turn into an outright laugh.
“Good morning,” I chuckle.
Chapter 6
Misery
I wrap my arms around Trey’s waist, laying my head against his back. He’s been quiet all day. Grant left to go meet with his church friends and Patrick has to work today so he can be off tonight for my birthday.
“You excited about Halloween?” Trey asks over his shoulder.
“As always,” I murmur against his bare back.
His muscles tense beneath his skin, twitching before he turns around and wraps me in a hug.
“I’m sorry about this morning. Your birthday is tonight and I know the guys have got you somethin’ and I haven’t been able to find anything that’s right. I’m just—”
“Wonderful? Thoughtful? The first boy who ever touched my heart?” I grin up at him, waiting for the words to sink in.
“Patrick has a good job and Grant is just so . . . respectable. I’m nobody. I have a nobody job and—”
I press my lips to his, willing him to be quiet. The words he’s blubbering hurt my heart. I hate knowing he feels like less than the other guys. My lips tug at his over and over until his mouth softens beneath mine.
Trey’s fingers dig into my ass and he hauls me onto the counter beside the stove. He pulls my legs around his waist, nuzzling my ear.
“I love you, you idiot,” I whisper. If I say it quietly, maybe it won’t break the fragile peace between us. It had taken Trey and I years to get to the place where we could co-exist and not want to kill one another the moment anyone else became involved.
Memories dance through my mind of the first time Trey and Grant met. Trey had been so angry; he’d felt betrayed. He hadn’t spoken to me for three days and had even tried to convince me to choose.
“I love you too, Mizz,” he murmurs against my cheek, brushing his fingers down the sensitive flesh. “I always have, you know?”
My heart skips a beat. The tenderness in his voice, the vulnerability I hear there, is too much for me to ignore.
“You’re perfect, Trey. Just like you are. I have plenty here. I got really lucky when I was a kid, and I’m blessed to have been able to buy this place.”
“You sound like Grant.”
“Well, sometimes Grant is right.” I pinch his nipple between my thumb and forefinger and squeeze.
“You should be nicer to him.”
“He’s an ass sometimes,” Trey grumbles.
“Yeah, and you’re just a sweetie pie,” I laugh.
Trey narrows his eyes on me, tilting my chin up so he can stare into my eyes. “I’m sweet on you, always have been.”
“Same, big guy.” My voice is quiet, barely a whisper between us. I’m scared to break this moment. Even with all the strides we’ve made, even with Trey being alright with the way my heart works, we don’t do this. He’s the least emotional boyfriend I have, even if he’s the one I’ve had in my life the longest.
“Are you two done making up?” Grant calls from the doorway.
My eyes snap to the door over Trey’s shoulder and I can’t help but smile. Grant and Patrick stand there with bags full of what looks like Halloween decorations. I raise my eyebrow, looking between the two of them.
“The house is already decorated,” I point out. I wave my hand toward the cobwebs spread across the kitchen. “The front yard is all set up, too.”
“The house is decorated for us, but it’s not nearly enough for a party.” Patrick’s eyes twinkle and I cover my mouth.
“A party?” I gasp.
“For your birthday,” Trey whispers against my forehead, placing a gentle kiss there before he moves towards the other guys to help with the bags.
“Is this what you were upset about? Because you couldn’t buy fucking Halloween decorations?” I grumble.
“Mmmhm,” Grant hums under his breath. He drops a big bag onto the table before turning around and heading back out the door.
My eyebrows shoot up my forehead and I peer into the bag, curious at what these boys think is necessary for a party.
“Cobwebs, check,” I mumble, putting the spool of sticky, stretchy thread to the side. There’s fake spiders, Jell-o mix, glow in the dark ping pong balls, and tons of candy, just in this bag alone.
Trey comes back through the door, his arms overflowing with brown paper bags. “Here we go!”
“Ohhh no,” I sputter in horror as he opens the freezer with his foot and begins placing bottle after bottle of liquor into the freezer. “Oh God.”