Unwrapped: a MMF Holiday Romance

by Taryn Quinn

  “Do your arms hurt?” he questioned, cradling her close as he rolled onto the bed beside her.

  “No.” She didn’t mind the slight sting of pain from being bound. It gave her something concrete to focus on rather than the dismal state of her…what?

  Love life? Sex life? Just life, period?

  The only part of her that stung in anything but a pleasurable way was her heart, but she didn't tell him that.

  Tristan walked around to the other side of the bed, still carrying the rope, and that thrilling bite of fear surged through her once more. “You’re going to tie me up again?” she asked breathlessly.

  He didn’t answer, tossing the rope aside as if he were annoyed with it. Then he knelt on the bed, his gaze raking her naked curves before he crawled over to her and Matt. He pushed her onto her back and braced his arms on either side of her shoulders as he ranged his body over hers, nudging his cock against her in the most intimate way possible.

  With the slightest flex, he’d be buried inside her without a condom. And she didn’t even possess the strength to tell him no.

  Had she really thought she had some control here? For once she didn’t have to think until her head ached. She could just be. Just do what came naturally and to hell with the consequences.

  She was on the pill. And it would feel so incredible, having all of him inside her with no barrier.

  Moving from instinct, she rocked against him, a not-so-subtle dare. He reached out and gripped her chin before he crushed his mouth to hers. His tongue swept inside, claiming her. Making her his. She moaned as she wove her fingers through his shoulder-length hair and rose up against him, pressing her breasts to his chest.

  He ripped his mouth away and raised above her, his expression positively lethal despite his ragged panting. “If I didn’t love you, I’d do it and hope to God you got pregnant. Even though it would be stupid for a lot of reasons, I’d do it.” He swore and grabbed a fistful of the pillow beside them. “Christ, I can’t think when I’m around you.”

  When she didn’t reply, Tristan roughly gripped her shoulder. But she didn’t fear him. He wouldn’t ever hurt her, no matter how incensed he became. “Then you’d have no choice, would you? You’d have to stay with us.”

  Her throat locked, but she met his gaze. Had all this really been brewing under the surface without any of them having the balls to acknowledge it? And for how long?

  She’d been so sure she was the only one suffering silently, but here was Tristan, threatening things so unlike him she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “You can’t trap me, no matter what you say or do,” she whispered.

  But that was a lie, and she knew it. She was already trapped by her own dwindling defenses and her body's overpowering need for him. For them both.

  “He doesn’t want to trap you.” Matt kissed her temple. “He just wants you to want us the way we want you. We want all of you.” He exchanged a wordless glance with his best friend before returning his focus to her. “Though he’s not expressing that too well with all the damn threats.”

  “Fuck that.” Tristan’s violent breaths washed over her skin. “I’m tired of playing games.”

  “This isn’t a game,” Matt said, stroking his thumb over her lips until they quivered. “Is it, short stuff?”

  She shook her head. “No. And I do want you. With everything I am.” She lifted her hand to Matt's cheek and brought his mouth to hers. “Make love to me,” she whispered, speaking to both of them. “Let me know how it feels.”

  Not just sex. She ached to be swept away by desire, consumed by longing and love and desperation. To feel completely alive.

  But Tristan didn’t respond to her plea. He rolled away from her and grabbed the rope, not even looking at her as he snatched her arms. She didn't struggle against the frustration leaking from his pores. If she couldn't give him what he’d asked for, she could give him her complete surrender, at least physically.

  As for the rest, he’d just have to learn to deal with it. So would Matt. And somehow so would she.

  Matt watched his best friends stare at each other and let out a long breath. Either tonight would end up being the best thing that ever happened to them, or it would end them for good. There didn’t seem to be any middle ground. But while there was still a chance of changing the final act, he wasn’t going to lie around and let them steal the show.

  “Don’t tie her up,” he said in a low voice. “Not yet. I have a better idea.”

  Before anyone could argue with him, he rose and went to the small closet. This was a tiny cabin with the barest amenities. But it had a big bed and a big refrigerator, along with a truly awesome fireplace. What more did a man need when he had his best friends and a camcorder?

  He dug through the contents of the top shelf until he wrapped his hand around the small old school video camera he’d picked up for a song. Since he had a thing for what he called ‘vintage tech’, he’d bought the video camera last year to capture footage of some of the amazing array of wildlife that made its home around the cabin.

  Yeah, well, he’d done that exactly once. But he’d be putting the camera to good use tonight.

  After unearthing the tripod that went with it, he turned back to the bed. Both Tristan and Caity were watching him. Even in the darkness, he could sense their wariness. “Ever shot a porno, kids?”

  “A…porno? You’re going to tape us with that ancient thing?” Cait’s voice rose. “No way. If that gets in the wrong hands—”

  “I’ll put it in my safe-deposit box. Don’t worry. No one will ever see it but us.”

  “But it’s permanent.”

  “Imagine that,” Tristan said, warming to the idea. He wasn’t one to shy away from new experiences.

  “Permanent only until someone hits the Delete button,” Cait added.

  Matt didn’t explain how he intended to finalize the disc and make it un-rewritable. Let her think what she pleased. Considering the matter decided, he set up the camera and came back to the bed, nudging Cait aside so he could roll onto his back. “You wanted to watch, right?”

  When she nodded, he patted his chest. “Come sit on my face.”

  She squeezed her legs together. “More?”

  “I’ll be gentle, promise.”

  She climbed into position, kneeling so that she was facing his cock. She sighed when he began to explore her sensitive slit with his tongue. “You’re so good at that.”

  He reached up and pinched the perfect curve of her ass. “Keep saying things like that and maybe we’ll let you come.” He craned his neck to look at Tristan, who’d yet to stop watching them. “You gonna do your part, Tris, or what? Let me give you a tip. Pornos are supposed to be hot. You’re not being hot yet.”

  Cait laughed, and he caught her arms, holding them behind her back. He couldn’t wait to see how she looked on camera, all that wavy blonde hair spilling around her shoulders and over her breasts. Her pretty nipples rosy and swollen from their kisses. Her face as she finally got to see what she’d been anticipating all night.

  Without directing Tristan, he knew what to do. He settled himself between Matt’s legs, not moving until Matt remembered the condoms and lube in the bedside table. He tossed them to his buddy, then went back to his juicy feast, savoring the seemingly endless trickle of cream as he employed every trick he knew.

  He slid his tongue all the way inside her tight channel. Her stunned moan broke the silence just as Tristan squirted the cool lube between his cheeks. Shit. Seconds later Matt heard the definite snap of a condom. Cait fell forward over Matt’s torso and scraped her nails up his sides at the same moment the head of Tristan’s cock breached his ass.

  Matt drew his knees up to give Tris more room. He spread them to accommodate Cait and her intent perusal, but the movement only impaled Tristan that much deeper.

  So damn deep. Heaven.

  The edge of pain from Tristan’s huge erection rapidly transformed into bliss. Dual spears of pleas
ure twined inside him, opening him up to the rush of heat caused by Tristan’s thrusts. The newness never fully wore off. For so many years, loving his best friend in this way hadn’t been a possibility. Having Cait there to share this moment only made it that much more sweet.

  He raised his ass off the bed to increase the friction. To take more. The point of no return neared, and he’d be damned if he could stop it. Combined with Cait smearing her wetness all over his face, he had no control left.

  Apparently neither did she. She bounced all over him, making sounds he couldn’t entirely recognize. But they were hotter than hell.

  “Like that?” Tristan’s voice was a raspy growl. “Wish it was you, don’t you, Caity?”

  Matt shifted her leg up in the air and craned his neck so he could get an idea of what was going on above him. Inching deeper, Tristan fisted Cait’s hair, dragging her mouth to his over the shared conduit beneath them.

  “Fuck,” Matt groaned, fighting for air.

  So sexy. So beautiful. The savage lust on Tristan’s face, probably mirrored by Cait’s, made him ache with need. He’d known he loved them before. But seeing them like this, together, increased his love—and desperation—tenfold.

  With a ragged hiss, Matt dragged her back over his face. Though he lost his ability to watch, he had a good monitor on the situation from the steady flow into his mouth. Her slick pussy rode his tongue, her inner walls clenching as moan after moan racked her lithe body.

  Tristan’s cock tunneled into his ass. His short plunges became choppy and chaotic. He buried himself deep, and then deeper still, until Matt’s balls clenched from his impending orgasm. Just about there. Struggling to hold on, he muffled a shout against Cait’s soaked pussy.

  She braced her hands on his stomach as Tristan locked his hands around Matt’s hips, forcing him upward to take more of his dick. But there wasn’t any room left or any breath in his throat to groan when Caity finally let go, her whole body shuddering from her climax.

  “Yes. God, yes.”

  Her scream ended abruptly, and Matt saw the reason when he managed to arch his neck. Tristan was kissing the ever-loving daylights out of her while he fucked Matt with one hand on his cock and the other around her jutting breast. She cupped Tristan’s face in her hands, and for an instant, the tableau froze, their mingled cries inflaming the ecstatic roar in Matt’s head.

  Too fast he hurtled toward his own orgasm, so hard that his spine cracked as he drove upward to meet Tristan’s thrusts. Warm, wet lips slid over the tip of his cock, and he moaned as he shot off like a cannon, blasting into Caity’s waiting mouth. Somehow he heard her swallowing, and it was the sexiest fucking sound he’d ever heard.

  “Oh yeah. Swallow his cum. Drink it. Every drop.”

  She whimpered at Tristan’s hoarse command, doing just as he wished. Throughout, she ground against Matt’s face, who ate her like a starving man presented with his last meal. Driven for more, he caressed her slit with his tongue, incapable of turning off his need for her. Or for the man currently shouting his way through his own scalding release, his cock hammering Matt’s ass in the rough way he’d come to love.

  After the plentiful aftershocks diminished, they collapsed together in a sweaty heap. None of them moved for a good long while. Then Matt tuned in to the whir of the camcorder.

  He grinned. They’d get to relive that incredible experience over and over. But first it would be Caity who’d get her own private viewing.

  “So, Tris,” he murmured. “Feel like a late dinner at the diner?”

  When Caity whimpered, he gave her a consoling pat. “We’ll be close by, and we’ll leave you with your phone. We won’t be long either. Just long enough to let you do some thinking and to make you as hungry as we are.” He flashed her a quick, evil grin. “For food.”

  In no time, he and Tristan were seated in a corner booth at Swan’s Diner, with heaping plates in front of them.

  “It’s not going to work.” Tristan didn’t look up from his meal.

  “Stop being such a pessimist.” Matt dug into his BLT with relish. The diner had the most delicious food around. Best of all, it was practically within spitting distance of the cabin. “So what should we bring her back? Bet she’d love some onion rings.”

  “Only you would suggest onion rings as an appetizer to a night of sex,” Tristan said, pushing his lumpy mashed potatoes around their moat of gravy. For a guy who’d recently had the latest in a long line of blistering orgasms, he looked positively wretched.

  He waited a minute and added, “She wants us for one thing. Our cocks. Once she’s gotten her cherry popped—which is a damn stupid phrase, by the way—she’ll be through with us.”

  Matt glanced up, grateful no one was close enough to hear Tristan’s tale of sexual woe. “You give our powers of persuasion far too little credit. She’s probably coming even now, just from watching us touch her on the tape.”

  “Which is all well and good, if I only wanted a sex slave I could tie up and fuck whenever the mood struck.”

  “You seemed to play that role well tonight,” Matt said mildly, reaching for his soda.

  “You both get off on that, obviously.”

  “And you don’t? I didn’t see you having any problems participating.”

  Tristan didn’t answer.

  Matt couldn’t claim to be surprised. Tristan’s insatiable sexual appetite always seemed to disturb Tristan, as if it were a wild animal he kept hog-tied in a cage in the basement. Weeks had passed before he’d been able to refer to their sex life.

  Even after a year, Tristan didn’t seem entirely comfortable discussing his proclivities where Matt was concerned. He was all about doing whatever struck his interest, but talking about it? Forget it.

  “She ate it up,” Tristan said, forking up potatoes. Apparently his own eating—both literal and figurative in this case—had been relegated to the forgotten pile. “In her own way, she was asking for everything that happened. Hell, for all I know, she’s been asking for a while and I’ve been too blind to see it.”

  “We were both blind. Added to that, you’re a romantic who only wanted to see her in a silk-sheeted bed wearing a peignoir with trailing ribbons tied in her hair.”

  Amazingly, Tristan grinned. “That’s a scary observation, especially since it’s true. But she’s not made for silk and ribbons. Or not only. I was being stupid by pretending she was.” He let out a windy sigh. “I was careful with her for so long. Then tonight—”

  “Oh, Christ, don’t start recriminating. She enjoyed everything we threw at her and asked for more. This is why I’m her true best friend, because she knows you can’t accept her as she is. Even now you want to keep her under glass, like a pretty butterfly.”

  Tristan started to argue; then he gave a short shake of his head. “I guess in some ways she’s still sixteen to me. Part of me isn’t ready to accept that she’s a woman now and capable of taking any step she wants, especially steps that may very well lead her out of our lives.”

  “Well, I’ve known her since she was seventeen, and unlike you, I know she’s not seventeen anymore. She’s also not a coward. She won’t lie to herself forever. Just not built that way,” Matt said, again reaching for his soda.

  It wasn’t hard liquor, but Swan’s didn’t exactly carry top-shelf. He’d have to wait to break into the wine back at the cabin.

  “Oh yeah? Then why didn’t she want me to know she’d caught us? Sounds like pretty big denial to me.” Tristan set down his fork, clearly finished though he’d barely eaten half his meal. Usually the food had to moo for him to resist eating every scrap on his plate.

  “She was scared. And embarrassed. And truthfully? I think she was afraid to face you. She may love me, but the two of you have your own issues I’m not part of.”

  “She was disappointed in us,” he said quietly.

  Matt didn’t reply because he’d suspected the same. “It’s hard for a chick to acknowledge a pretty boy might like the other team as
much as hers,” he said with a shrug, though he guessed it went way deeper than that.

  “You’re pretty too.”

  “Aww, how sweet.” Before Tristan could kick him under the table, Matt signaled the waitress, Telula, over with a smile. She perked up instantly at Matt’s attention. “Hey, Tel, could you grab us one of those chocolate and raspberry cakes from the bakery case? To go.”

  “Sure, honey. You want some French vanilla ice cream to go with that?”

  “That’d be perfect.” Oh hell yeah. Now that’s what he was talking about. Then he remembered Cait would need real food beyond the frozen crap he had in the freezer. He had stuff for breakfast, but she probably wouldn’t want bacon and eggs tonight. “Can you box up some other stuff for us too? Onion rings and one of your awesome turkey clubs.”

  “She’ll want root beer,” Tristan put in.

  “Right. You got any two-liters?”

  “We’ll fix your order up just the way you want it. No problem, honey.” Telula patted his shoulder and began clearing away plates.

  “You need some help with that?” Tris asked as she balanced their dishes and glasses in her arms.

  “Nope. There’s a trick to it.” She winked at them and headed off to the kitchen, a jaunty spring in her step.

  “She’s nice. Reminds me of your mom,” Tristan said, wiping up the crumbs from the Formica like the good little boy he’d always been. With a mile-wide streak of naughty he just couldn’t reconcile, even with himself.

  “My mom’s planning on visiting soon, by the way. She’s going to try to get in for New Year’s. Says Boise’s winter has been hell already, and she needs to escape.”

  “Yeah? She get some time off work?”

  “A week and a half. She wants to spend it with her two boys and her extra daughter.” He grinned at Tris, but Tristan wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at the table.

  “How’re we gonna tell them?”

  Matt knew very well who Tristan meant, but he played dumb. Anything to stall. “Them?”