Unwrapped: a MMF Holiday Romance

by Taryn Quinn

  “Your mom, my parents, Caity’s mom. We can’t hide this.”

  “Says who?” Matt bit off a sigh as Telula returned with the check. “What’s the rush?” he asked once she’d left again.

  “I don’t want to sweep this under the rug. If we’re doing it, we’re doing it all the way.”

  That was Tris. Hotheaded and emotional and, more than anything, invested. He’d reserve judgment for a long time, then go all hell-bent on getting what he wanted at a moment’s notice.

  Matt didn’t work that way. He knew Tris saw him as impulsive, but if he did something, you could sure as shit bet he’d thought through every angle first. He didn’t just run everything behind the scenes at Tristan Designs with precision, he ran his life that way too. And he hadn’t worked out telling everyone about their ménage yet, mainly because he wasn’t sure how he’d handle it. At his core, he was almost as wary of unusual setups like this as Cait, but he also wasn’t used to denying his needs. And when it came to her and Tris, he’d denied for as long as possible.

  He also had a wonderful, sweet mother he wasn’t about to hurt. She wouldn’t get this. He didn’t think she’d condemn it either, because she loved all three of them. But still. If they didn’t have to rip the lid off this right now, why borrow trouble? Couldn’t they just work on getting Caity to come around without planning some big reveal to the rest of the world?

  “Let’s just take it slow,” Matt said as he casually slipped the bill out from under Tris’s card. He reeled at the figure but shrugged it off. It was a damn diner tab, and he had to loosen the purse strings occasionally. TD was doing well—due in no small part to their amazingly creative lead designer—and they could afford a few meals out, even if he’d tried and failed to put Tristan on a budget years ago. “We’ll convince Caity to give us a shot, and then we’ll worry about the rest. All right?”

  “You’re not convinced either, are you?” Tristan clenched his jaw. “This is just a lark to you. A good fuck. Not what it is to me.”

  “You know better than that. I love her every bit as much as you do.”

  Words unspoken hung in the air between them, and Matt pressed his lips together to keep from saying more. He’d assumed Tristan knew how he felt, but maybe not. Maybe he needed an affirmation beyond Matt’s feelings for Cait.

  Shit, did he really expect him to bust out with an “I love you” in a dingy diner while the Chipmunks’ Christmas song played in the background?

  As the silence deepened, Matt took a slow, bracing breath. Apparently he did.

  “Look, Tris—”

  Tristan held up a hand. “Forget it. We’ll sex her to within an inch of her life, and then everything will be hunky-dory.” He flashed a completely insincere smile. “Hope you’re right.”

  Matt leaned back in his booth and grinned. “Of course I am.”

  He’d made everything else happen, hadn’t he? Tristan’s impossible business plan, formed out of little more than desire and inspiration. This threesome, with Cait strapped to the bed and awaiting their return. He’d never failed at coming up with a blueprint and then executing it.

  He wouldn’t now either. Whatever it took.

  Chapter 7

  Cait closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to calm her overeager body. She’d been writhing against the sheets for most of the time the men had been gone and she was exhausted.

  Matt had left her the remote, so it was her fault the movie they’d made was still running. She’d watched it several times already. Couldn’t stop watching it. But she needed a break.

  One thing this night had proven to her was the allure of homemade pornos. Sure, she blushed even thinking about how she’d behaved, but the actual finished product was more than worth it.

  Especially when you had not one but two sinfully hot guys as your costars.

  Which was why she didn’t understand why tears dripped down her cheeks even as her own moans reached a crescendo onscreen. It was just sex, and not even the full monty. Not yet. They were just having a good time. Surely once Tristan had some time alone to think, he’d get his impulses under control and realize that most regular people didn’t live as part of a threesome.

  At least she couldn’t. Anyone else was welcome to do whatever they chose.

  And so are you. You can decide to do anything you want.

  Even if it would be really easy to tear down the walls separating their apartments in the loft above their office, making it one communal space. With one ginormous bed—

  “Stop it,” she whispered, furiously slapping away the mini waterfall coasting off her chin. They’d left her arms unbound this time. Only her ankles were secured. As much as they wanted to pretend it was just another aspect of their sexy times, she suspected they’d selected that particular method of bondage to ensure she’d be there when they returned.

  Participating in bondage. Her.

  Somehow in one night, everything she’d believed about herself had changed.

  She liked to be tied up—as proven by the fact that she hadn’t even fussed when they’d offered to untie her if she promised to stay put in the cabin. She enjoyed being bossed around. Controlled. A guy practically shoving his cock down her throat while he pulled on her hair hadn’t sparked her fantasies before.

  Now she’d never forget what it felt like to wield the power of offering the ultimate in pleasure—and the joy of drowning in complete submission under a man’s hand.

  Two men, in this case.

  One didn’t seem like enough anymore. She loved being the third point of their triangle. It seemed right. They fit.

  Immoral, wrong, crazy. Any or all adjectives might apply. But she wanted to be part of them, and not just for a weekend. When they came back here, she needed to tell them that.

  No. Dear God, what was she thinking? This was a fantasy. Not real life. It couldn’t be.

  Cait’s eyes flew open, her gaze immediately drifting to the screen. With the sex over, the three of them sprawled together in a heap. Tristan’s big hand cupped her head, Matt’s lips brushed her neck, and the two men’s fingers linked loosely over her belly. That sight more than any other made her want to curl into herself and sob in a way she hadn’t let herself in years.

  “You wanted this. Now you’re going to get it.”

  Though she knew she needed to turn the thing off, she started the movie over. She’d watch it just one more time, then banish it to the basement of her memories.

  Her cell trilled, and she fumbled for it, glad they’d left her phone close by just in case. She knocked the remote off the bed in her haste to snatch her cell and cursed. No point in even trying to reach it. She’d have to keep her call short and sweet so the caller didn’t hear more than they wanted to.

  She glanced at the caller ID and grimaced. Val. Perfect. “Hey, sweets. Kind of late for you to call. What’s up?”

  “It’s only eleven. And it’s Friday night.”

  Time had ceased to mean much to her, other than how many orgasms she hadn’t been allowed to have. She’d been sure her deprivation had lasted hours and hours, but it obviously hadn’t been as long as she’d believed. “Oh, I don’t have my watch on. So what’s up?”

  Val started to reply, then broke off as Cait’s own moan shattered the stillness. No wonder. On-screen Cait was being thoroughly devoured.

  Just the knowledge of what part was playing made her core clench. She closed her eyes. Don’t even look.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing. Just, uh, a dog. Outside.”

  “Is he starving or something? He sounds like he’s in pain.”

  Oh, he was. Trust me. Wincing, Cait hurriedly started talking to fill the silence. “I bet it’s a zoo there. Lots going on this time of year. Don’t hear the kids in the background. Did Marn and Ginny get them to bed on time for once?”

  “Um, yeah. It’s heading toward midnight. They don’t stay up that late.”

  “Right. So what’s new?”

  “Are
you okay? You sound funny. And what’s up with the reception?”

  Normally she’d walk around if her connection wasn’t good, but the best she could do now was sort of flop on her side. Didn’t help. “Ah, well, I sort of have a headache. A bad one. Really bad.” The moans and groans grew louder. “Actually, I think I might puke. Soon.”

  “Oh.” Even through the gruntlicious cacophony, Cait didn’t miss her sister’s disappointment and felt like a heel. A horny heel to boot. “We can talk later, I guess.”

  “I’ll call you soon. I promise.”

  “Sure.” Val clicked off before Cait could say any more.

  Terrific. Something big was happening with Val, and instead of being there for her when she reached out, Cait had turned her away. Some sister she was.

  Some lover.

  She pressed her cheek against the pillow. The tears started again, thicker and harder than before.

  When the guys returned a little while later, she was lying in the dark with her face soaked and her eyes swollen to the point that the light they flicked on made her groan. Matt led the way, his arms laden with food. An easy grin split his handsome face.

  When he saw her, he almost dropped the bags.

  “Cait? What’s wrong?” he demanded, setting aside the food on the small dresser near the door. He rushed into the room and untied her ankles, gathering her up in his arms as a parent would with a child. “Tell me.”

  She said nothing.

  Matt didn’t ask more questions or stroke her back or even kiss her tears away. Instead he tipped up her chin and murmured, “We have onion rings.”

  The response was so totally Matt she chuckled through her tears. “Yeah?”

  “And root beer,” he added. “And chocolate cake and ice cream—”

  Her stomach burbled, and he laughed. “Come on.” He kicked the rope off the bed and turned off the TV, as if the final shot of them tangled together wasn’t still onscreen.

  She nodded, already smiling. At least until she saw Tristan’s jaw tense as he turned away from the doorway. A moment later, the front door closed.

  Cait glanced at Matt and grabbed the button-down shirt he offered her from his closet. “Where do you think he went?” she asked, shrugging into the soft flannel.

  “Probably to go shoot something,” Matt said, doing up her buttons himself.

  Again she laughed, though it wasn’t particularly funny. She didn’t like being the cause of anyone’s unhappiness, particularly Tristan’s. But dammit, couldn’t he see she was going through hell too?

  “He’s not a hunter.”

  “Always a first time,” he said, reaching down to cup her. His lips quirked as he dipped into the surfeit of moisture gathered along her seam. “I think we should make him regret stomping off.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s go eat. If he’s still not back when we’re finished, we’ll see what we can do about your little problem.”

  “Virginity is not a problem. It’s a treasure. A gift to be shared with the man lucky enough to traverse the twisty road to a woman’s secrets.” She leaned up to kiss his lips, still cold from outside, as he reached under flannel to cup her ass.

  “I’ll remember that.” Playfully he bit the tip of her tongue. “You know, I’ve never been with a virgin.”

  “No?” She grinned, relieved the urge to cry had disappeared. For now. “First time for everything,” she said, patting his chest.

  Tristan walked and walked, his only goal exhaustion. Only a fool would waste this night with Caity and Matt, but he needed some time alone.

  For the longest time, he’d been good at pretending everything was just fine. Why it was so much harder now, he didn’t know. After all, he’d been putting up a front for almost a year.

  He’d never considered the three of them actually getting together outside his fantasies before he’d slept with Matt, though he’d never considered actually doing that until the option had been presented to him either. TD had been his focus since shortly after college. He’d thrown himself into work with a fervor his doctor and lawyer parents appreciated—trying to make good for pursuing an art career over something more “stable”—which left little room to wonder what was missing. He’d never lacked for partners to share his bed, God knows. And he’d never had to look for things to take up his attention, making it virtually impossible to dwell.

  Before last Christmas.

  Matt, he suspected, hadn’t seen them getting together as anything more than a natural extension to their friendship. He didn’t worry about labels. Gay, not gay, who cared? As long as it felt good, he was on board.

  But he wasn’t like that. Discovering he had sexual feelings for a man changed him. Especially once he realized those feelings hadn’t negated his desire for Caity. In some weird way, they’d actually amplified it.

  Since then he’d been fighting a losing battle not to screw everything up. Dozens of times, he’d considered just coming clean to both of them and to hell with it. But he hadn’t. And then Matt had told him Caity knew they were lovers, and the window to the life he’d dreamed of but hadn’t dared ask for had opened.

  He'd be damned if he’d shut it now. Not without giving this chance everything he had.

  She didn’t want to be strong-armed. Despite her enjoying playing power games in bed, that was the method least likely to work with Caity. She was independent and strong, and he loved that about her. The only way he’d—they’d—win her love would be to treat her as an equal and show her more pleasure than she could stand. They’d have to offer her a deal she couldn’t refuse.

  Shoving his freezing hands in his pockets, he turned around about a half mile from the cabin. He was not going to spend tonight out in the woods while the two of them fucked like bunnies in his absence. He knew Matt well enough to know he’d be getting inside her sooner rather than later.

  He grinned and strode a little faster. Damn opportunist.

  When he neared the cabin, it started to snow again. Light flakes drifted over his face and snuck down the back of his neck into his jacket. Good thing they wouldn’t need to head down the mountain until Sunday night. Being snowed in suited him just fine.

  Instead of going straight inside, he stopped beside the frosted window next to the front door. He hadn’t dressed warmly enough, but loss of body heat became a problem he didn’t need to contend with as he watched Caity and Matt roll around on the rug in front of the raging fire.

  Her blonde hair flamed in the dark. Strong hands reached up to grab fistfuls of it, dragging her mouth to his. She was on top—and very naked—and firelight highlighted every supple curve. Beneath her, Matt planted his feet, lifting his hips against her center so suggestively that Tristan groaned aloud.

  Christ, if he kept watching this, he’d need to grab his own dick. He glanced around. Maybe it was time he took a page from Matt’s “what the hell” playbook.

  But his fingers froze on his zipper. Despite the sensuality of the scene in front of him, doing something so crass violated the intimacy Caity and Matt shared. This wasn’t just spank material on the opposite side of the glass. They were the two people he loved most in the world, and they were completely caught in the moment. Completely caught in each other. As much as they turned each other on, this wasn’t only about lust. It was the physical expression of love and trust and, in a way, a hopeful exploration of both.

  Hopeful. That was what he had to be.

  One of his talents was being a big-picture guy who relished charging into the unknown with nothing but faith and his wits. He needed to approach this situation that way too. Even if he only ended up shoveling a giant pile of bullshit that would eventually bury him, at least he would have some incredible memories.

  Tristan’s breath puffed out, clouding the snow-encrusted panes. But he still saw Matt reach for a condom and fumble as he fought to get it over his straining erection. Caity’s head fell back as he drove up, seeking her wet heat, their movements seeming to slow as if
orchestrated. She was so beautiful, even in her hesitancy. Maybe more so. Here was a situation where she couldn’t fake confidence. But she didn’t have to fake her total trust in the man inside her. It was written in every cautious rock of her hips as he let her guide the show.

  Tristan clenched his hand and closed his eyes at her abbreviated scream, the sound a teasing fragment in the silent night. He dropped his forehead to the glass, unwilling to intrude upon their privacy even an instant longer.

  Never had a closed door felt so damning in all his life. Especially since he’d been the one to close it.

  “Oh God, that feels so good.”

  It shouldn’t have quite as much, probably. Her first time and all. But Caitlyn had fooled around enough and played with enough toys that her virginity was mostly only technical. She’d definitely spent plenty of time getting warmed up that evening.

  “Yeah, yeah. Not so bad down here either.”

  She choked back a laugh as she braced her hands on Matt’s toned chest. She squeezed his erection inside her, testing the sensation of overwhelming fullness. “You’re such a romantic.”

  “Want romance? Or sex?”

  She gave him a challenging smile. “Can’t you multitask?”

  He wrapped his arms around her and rolled, pinning her beneath him as he slapped his palms on the floor and raised his torso. They were still connected, still joined, his length’s subtle pulse a reminder of how much her life had changed.

  No longer a virgin. She’d crossed that line. Finally. She would’ve done a victory dance, but her lower half was currently occupied, and she wasn’t about to change that any damn time soon.

  With his first thrust, there had been pain. Even expecting it, the sheer enormity of the moment had crashed down on her, and she’d damn near screamed. But he’d withdrawn and fingered her clit, making sure she was ready when he entered her again.

  Gone was the cocksure guy who’d embarked so easily on a plan to bind and gag her and freaking abduct her off a city street. In his place was the boy she loved, the one she trusted wholeheartedly, and he hadn’t let her down. When he slid inside her a second time, the pain floated away fast, swamped by the thrill of his body moving with hers.