her."
"You really are the most straight-laced little thing," Aiden says, grinning as he pulls my panties onto my pussy, still covered in his and Noah's cum.
"Shut up." That's the wittiest I can be after all of that.
"So about those files… " Aiden says, his expression intense.
I roll my eyes. "She's trying to set me up."
"You'll need to tell them no," Aiden growls, drawing me tight against him. He's warm and when he wraps his arms around me, I feel safe and insulated from everything outside of us.
"Why?" I ask. "Are you jealous, Aiden Jackson?"
"You're damn right I am," he growls. "And so will Noah will be too if he finds out. We said you were ours and we meant it." He pulls away from me, reaching for my skirt and straightening it. "And think about that when you're wearing those cum-soaked panties today. I want you to walk around smelling like sex. Smelling like us."
"That's… disgusting," I whisper. It is disgusting. So why does the thought of walking around with them between my legs the rest of the day, sitting in meetings reeking of sex and them, make me wet?
33
Aiden
“You went to Noah’s ranch with Grace Sullivan and you didn’t even tell me?” Annie squeals. I hold the phone away from me because she’s so loud.
“I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t a big deal,” I lie. It was a very big deal. “It was this charity thing and - ”
“I’m a poly-sci major, Noah! You hung out with the daughter of the President and that’s not a big deal to you?”
“Say something,” I mouth, glaring at Noah and pointing toward the phone.
Noah shrugs. “We didn’t really hang out with her that much.”
Technically, that’s true. We didn’t hang-out at the ranch as much as we did fuck her. And cuddle with her. And fuck her some more.
And then we came back to the “real world”, back to our regular lives in Denver, back to Noah’s new neighborhood and the place where Grace Sullivan is his next-door neighbor. The same neighbor we can’t seem to stop “meeting with” at our house or hers - that's the obviously bullshit excuse she gives her security detail. The same neighbor that I fucked while she was on the phone with the First Lady.
We definitely didn’t just “hang out” with her.
“So are you friends, then?” Annie asks.
Noah and I are silent for a moment too long. What the hell are we? “Yeah, I guess,” I say, trying to sound casual. Except we’re not just friends.
I don't want to let this girl out of our bed. Even more, I’m starting to really like having her around. That’s something I’ve never been able to say about a woman before.
“We hardly know her,” Noah says. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“I mean, she’s Noah’s neighbor, so really that’s all- ”
“She’s your neighbor?” Annie asks. “You guys don’t tell me anything. Oh my God, you should ask her to come to the Fourth of July celebration!”
“Banana, that’s not happening,” I start before Noah chimes in.
“Grace isn’t going to want to come to West Bend for the Fourth of July,” Noah says firmly.
“Why not?” Annie asks. “Wait. You call her Grace?”
“That’s her name,” Noah answers. "What else am I supposed to call her? Her Royal Highness? She's a regular person, Annie."
“She’s also the President’s daughter,” I say. “I’m sure she goes to the White House for the Fourth of July.”
“Well maybe if you asked her… ” Annie suggests.
“Didn’t you just hear us say we’re not friends with her? We’re acquaintances.”
Acquaintances. I’m the biggest fucking liar in the world.
“We barely know her,” Noah chimes in again.
We’re both liars - the worst liars ever.
Annie sighs heavily. “Fine. But both of you are going to come, right? It’s my going-away dinner, too, remember?”
“Obviously, we’re not going to miss it. What kind of big brother would I be if I missed that?”
“You better not, A-hole. Because I’m GOING TO EUROPE!” She screams the last part, her voice echoing through the entire downstairs.
“Thanks for blowing out my eardrums, Banannie.”
“Anytime.”
After I hang up the phone, I look at Noah. “I’m sure Grace goes to the White House for July Fourth.”
He shrugs. “Annie has a point. We could ask her.”
“And what, bring her to West Bend? 'Hey mom, this is the girl that Aiden and I are fucking in his house at the same time. We thought you might want to meet her.'"
Noah rolls his eyes. “That’s not exactly what I was picturing.”
“It’s West Bend. No one can keep a damn secret in that town and all three of us need to keep this a secret. Hell, you’re in the middle of negotiations. If anything like this came out, it would ruin us. More importantly, it would ruin her."
“We’re neighbors,” Noah reminds me, distracted by whatever he’s reading on his tablet. “There’s no reason to pretend we don’t know her. I’m sure she could come up with a cover story if she wanted to come to West Bend. Shit, I’m sure we could come up with a cover story.”
“You just don’t want to be away from her for four days,” I realize. Fuck, I’m not sure I want to be away from her that long. Since we hooked up the first time, we've seen Grace every day. I’ve spent more time with her and Noah in the past few weeks than I’ve spent with anyone else in the past year.
The weird thing is, I'm not sick of it at all. Usually, I can't stand to listen to a word that comes out of the mouths of the girls I hook up with. But Grace? Hell, it's all I want to do.
Noah exhales heavily. “Fine. I admit it. I don’t want to be away from her for days while we’re in West Bend. Do you? She’s been in our bed non-stop since the camping trip.”
“Fourth of July is weeks away,” I say. “She’s going to be in our bed nonstop until then. And you still haven’t told her about the thing that might take you away from her permanently. When are you going to tell her you’re looking at offers outside of Colorado?”
A flicker of annoyance crosses over Noah’s face. “Nothing's certain,” he grumbles. “So I’ll tell her when it comes up.”
I shake my head. “It’s dishonest.”
“She's never asked, and it's not like it's a big secret. It's all over the media. You’re only concerned about my honesty, right?” Noah asks. “Your concern wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you might want Grace all to yourself, would it?”
Noah stomps off to the gym without another word, the way he always does when he’s really upset. But he knows I'm right. He knows that he should tell her.
Shit, I’m actually not even trying to get Grace all to myself. I've gotten used to the three of us being together. We've settled into a familiar rhythm. Sure, being with her the other day when we were alone was hot as hell, but being with her after Noah had fucked her was even hotter.
It’s not just the screwing, though. It’s having her around here - laughing, stretched out casually across both of us after she’s come three times, her face lighting up as she tells us a story about the kids she’s worked with through her charities. It’s the way she breathes at night when she’s asleep, this little almost-snore she makes that’s so damn cute.
I think I might finally understand the term “pussy-whipped”. Yesterday, an ex-hook-up texted me a shot of her boobs and I replied to tell her I was off the market. The idea of me, Aiden Jackson, being off the market is ridiculous. But it was the only thing I wanted to say.
The thought of Grace's mother setting her up with some asshole in a suit makes me want to throttle him with my bare hands. All I know is that I want Grace to be ours - mine and Noah's. I want her in our bed and I don't want to let her go.
34
Noah
"You've never had moonshine?" I ask.
Grace gives us that bi
g smile of hers, one that seems to be plastered on her face more and more lately. Maybe it's the sex – I tell myself that it's probably just the sex and nothing more – but she looks like she's calmer and more relaxed these days. "I lived in the Colorado governor's mansion, and in Washington, D.C. And I went to boarding school in Switzerland. Does this really come as a shock to you?"
"The woman hasn't had moonshine, or gone fishing, or been muddin'," Aiden pipes up as he sits in an oversized cushioned patio chair in the back yard and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. "Or been camping."
"How can you have never gone camping?" I ask. “I thought you did the charity camp every year.”
Grace sighs dramatically and slouches back on the long outdoor sofa, trying her best to look exasperated, but it’s obvious that she’s not. The face she makes is fucking cute. She's fucking cute, with her hair pulled back in a swinging ponytail and her jeans and thin white cotton t-shirt that's practically transparent. "It's a long story."
Aiden chortles. "No. Don't let her fool you. There's literally no story to it. She has never slept in a tent, because – "
"Shut your trap, blabbermouth. I told you that in confidence,” Grace protests.
"She’s never slept in a tent because the ground is too hard," Aiden finishes, imitating Grace's voice. She sticks her tongue out at him.
"Really?" I ask, shaking my head. "That's actually appalling."
"So I’ve missed out on fishing, mudding, camping, and drinking moonshine. Is that really a big deal?”
I tsk-tsk her. “It is a big deal. In fact, it’s something that needs to be rectified immediately.”
Grace kicks her feet up underneath her. “I’m not sure that I’ve missed out on anything by not growing up fishing.”
Aiden gasps. “You take that back right now.”
Grace laughs. “Doesn’t it mostly involve sitting around drinking beer and scratching your balls? And in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any balls to scratch.”
“Well, had you grown up near us, it would have involved drinking moonshine and scratching your balls,” I tell her.
"Well then, I stand corrected."
"Luckily, I can take care of one of the things on your list of stuff you've never done. You're going to sit your ass down and have some moonshine," Aiden says.
"Where are you going to get moonshine?"
"Aiden is an idiot savant when it comes to the booze," I tell her. "He distills it. He’s been doing it since we were in high school.”
"Since high school?!”
"Damn straight," Aiden says.
"I thought that was something people made in Kentucky, not Colorado.”
I exhale under my breath, shaking my head. "Now you’ve done it. You're in for a lecture."
"There's a long and noble history of bootlegging ‘shine throughout this fair country," Aiden starts, his intonation formal.
"Just go get it for her," I interrupt. "I don't feel like hearing a giant speech about bootlegging tonight, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Don’t worry,” Aiden says, looking at Grace. “I’ll save it for another time.”
She laughs. “Lucky me.”
Aiden returns with two glass canning jars and sets them in the middle of the coffee table. "Lemonade and blackberry," he says.
"You made this yourself,” Grace says skeptically, her eyebrows raised.
“That’s right. Lemonade and blackberry because we’re coming into summer. I make seasonal flavors.”
I nod. “If you’re a member of our family, you get a jar of ‘shine from Aiden for Christmas.”
“Dude, whatever, you make it sound like I give out coal. I give other presents, too.”
“Aren’t you not supposed to make this stuff? Isn’t it illegal?” Grace asks.
“You’re sleeping with a rebel, baby,” Aiden says. “And the accomplice to my crimes.”
“But this stuff can kill you, can’t it? Aren’t there regulations for a reason?”
Aiden rolls his eyes and sighs loudly, plopping down into his seat. “Yeah, if you don't know what the hell you're doing. I, on the other hand, know exactly what I'm doing."
Grace raises her eyebrows and eyes the jars of shine. "You sure?"
Aiden sighs. "Dude, tell her I know what I'm doing."
I nod. "He does know what he's doing. Seriously. He's a weirdo with how much he knows about this stuff."
"I learned from the best," Aiden says.
"He learned it in West Bend."
"You learned how to brew alcohol while you were kids?”
Aiden shrugs. "I learned it from Old Man Johnson. He hired me on his farm for a few summers, and he had a still. He used to make it. I ended up having a knack for it.”
"And seriously, we were high school kids with access to free booze – hell, with a way of making it ourselves,” I tell her. “He couldn’t have had a better hobby.”
“I thought you were a saint,” Grace says.
"Yeah, but I still got shithoused on Saturday nights," I say. "There wasn't anything else to do in town."
“My moonshine has never killed a single person,” Aiden says. “I haven’t even blinded anyone.”
"Well, that's a ringing endorsement if I ever heard one," Grace jokes. "I'm a total lightweight, though."
"Oh yeah?" Aiden asks. "So if you have a few sips of this, you'll be dancing on the table and taking your clothes off?"
"That's a good possibility."
"Well, hell, drink up then," I tell her, and she swats my arm.
"Okay," she says. "Do you have a glass?"
Aiden rolls his eyes. "I didn't realize the President's daughter would be so high-maintenance. Now you want a glass. Next you'll be wanting silverware."
"Fine," Grace says, reaching for one of the jars. "Do I drink this illegal concoction straight?"
She picks up the jar, but right before she puts it to her lips, Aiden yells, “Wait!”
“Oh my God, you’re going to give me a heart attack. What!?”
Aiden guffaws. “If this kills you, did I just assassinate the President’s daughter?”
“I certainly wouldn’t mind if you got thrown in a secret CIA cell somewhere,” I tell him.
“Definitely. It's totally an assassination if this kills me. Probably even treason," Grace deadpans.
“Okay. I was just checking. Carry on.” Aiden grins.
Grace takes a sip of the lemonade moonshine, her face screwing up. "Oh God, that's pretty strong. Strong and good. I told you I’m
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