Aberrate

by Wendi Wilson

  With Silas’s hands bringing me to new heights with every second that passes, and Slade’s hot, wet mouth scorching a trail down my neck, I lose my senses. Completely.

  “Bite me,” I moan.

  Both boys freeze and Slade starts to pull away. I tangle my hands into his hair and pull him back, lifting my chin higher as I rub my back against Silas’s chest. His hands remain on my body, but he’s stopped his ministrations and I need him to keep going.

  “Lizzie,” Silas whispers, “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think,” I interrupt, gripping Slade’s hair tighter.

  I lift his head so he can look into my eyes. I need him to see the truth.

  “I want you to do it,” I say. “I want to feel everything and I want to give you everything in return. Including my blood.”

  My eyes roll back as Silas’s fingers begin to move again. Using my stranglehold on Slade’s hair, I pull his face back to my neck. His tongue licks at the spot where my pulse beats erratically. I pull the fingers of my right hand from his blonde locks and reach over my shoulder to wrap them behind Silas’s neck.

  I pull him forward, bringing his mouth to my neck on the opposite side from his brother. His lips move across my skin as his fingers work their magic, bringing me right to the precipice.

  “Do it. Do it now. Both of you.”

  Sharp teeth bite down on both sides of my throat. The sharp pain sends me right over the edge and I scream as the world explodes around me. Tremor after tremor wracks my body as the boys suck at my neck. The sound of each of them swallowing, ingesting my lifeblood with quiet moans of pleasure sends me right over the edge and I come a second time.

  “Jesus,” I groan, and with that one quiet word, Silas and Slade disengage their hot mouths from my flesh.

  My bones feel like jelly, but being sandwiched between them keeps me upright. There’s a pregnant pause, the tension thick as if the boys expect me to rage against them. Or run away screaming.

  When I do neither, I feel the anxiety ease out of them with quiet huffs of breath. Slade moves back in, his tongue tracing the wound his teeth inflicted before laving the whole area. Silas copies his brother’s actions, cleaning the side of neck while a low hum vibrates in his chest.

  Hot desire makes its triumphant return, surprising me with its intensity. I just experienced two Earth-shattering orgasms… I should be done. Finis. Out of the game.

  Instead, my blood runs hotter than ever as the boys run their tongues across the tender flesh of my neck. Silas moves his hands to my hips, his grip tight as he cleans the last of the dribbling blood from my throat.

  I lean back into him, pulling Slade along with me. I can feel his erection through his shorts and, as if controlled by a mind of its own, my ass rubs against it once, twice, three times before he jerks my hips even closer to increase the pressure.

  I can’t take it anymore. I run my fingers under the waistband of Slade’s shorts and push them down his thighs. Then I turn to face Silas and repeat the process on him. As they disentangle their feet from the unwanted garments, I slip my panties down, letting them drop to the floor before stepping out of them.

  The three of us fall onto the bed together, six hands sliding over bare skin, pushing and pulling, kneading and caressing. Finding sensitive spots and bringing each other to new heights.

  Silas puts some space between us, his eyes burning into mine as Slade covers my body with his. As he slides inside me, my eyes roll back with pleasure. Groaning, I lift my eyelids to see Silas still staring at my face, the intensity of his stare setting me ablaze just as much as his brother’s slow, delicious movements.

  My hand snakes out, my fingers wrapping around Silas’s erection. I stroke it, squeezing lightly, increasing the tempo as Slade brings me closer to my own release. I feel the muscles in Silas’s thigh tighten under my arm as a growl rumbles in his chest.

  I pump faster while bucking against Slade, encouraging him to increase his speed. I’m so close. I can feel my nerve endings igniting with white fire and though I’m finding it difficult to focus, I manage to keep my hand moving, bringing Silas to the same brink I’m teetering over.

  Slade moans as his thrusting accelerates. The friction pulls me over the edge and I groan as my third orgasm shudders through me. My inner walls clench around Slade and he howls with one final thrust.

  Sticky warmth covers my hand as Silas finds his own release with another deep growl. My hand stills, but I keep my tight grip on him until the pulsing subsides. His body relaxes as his heavy breathing slows.

  Slade rolls off of me, disposing of the condom I don’t remember him putting on. Good thing one of us was using the brain the good Lord gave us. He hands me some tissues from a box on the night stand, and I use a couple to clean my hand before handing the rest to Silas.

  Once finished, Silas pulls me against his side and I wrap one arm around his waist and rest my cheek on his chest. Slade slides up behind me, draping an arm over my waist while snuggling against my back.

  Warm, content, and completely satisfied, my eyes grow heavy within seconds. Sleep comes to claim me, and I don’t fight it. I let it pull me under, knowing I’m safe in the arms of my affectionate, sexy, beautiful boys.

  6

  “It’s been two weeks and I still can’t find my way around campus without a map.”

  I chuckle as I walk into the kitchen, spotting Savanna talking to Jett as a pot of coffee brews. We trade greetings as I grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it at the sink. Savanna continues her rant as I drink the water.

  “You’d think, by now, I’d know where to go, but it’s so big and confusing.”

  “And you have no sense of direction,” Jett adds.

  Savanna narrows her eyes and he holds his hands up in a placating manner. Setting the glass in the sink, I decide to leave them to it and go out for coffee this morning. It’s Saturday, which means no classes, so I’m free to do whatever I want.

  And I want some me time.

  The seven of us have been living in this house for weeks and, while I love being here, sometimes it gets a little overwhelming. With five boys dominating the space, there’s never a dull moment. I wouldn’t have it any other way, but sometimes I go out by myself to decompress.

  I run up to the bedroom I share with the twins and grab a pair of boots from the closet. Slipping them on, I walk over to the large bed where they’re still sleeping and lean over, pressing my lips to Silas’s forehead. He mumbles something in his sleep, but doesn’t wake.

  I walk around to the other side and give Slade the same attention. His eyes blink open and he treats me to a sleepy grin, dimples and all. My heart still stutters at the sight.

  “Morning, beautiful,” he mutters.

  “Go back to sleep,” I whisper. “I’m going out for coffee. I’ll bring some back for you guys later.”

  He hums in the affirmative as his eyelids drift back down and his breathing evens out. I tiptoe from the room and close the door softly behind me.

  I hear the murmur of voices drifting from the kitchen as I head for the front door and pull it open. A rush of cold air surrounds me, causing a shiver to brush down my spine as I step through, closing the door and slipping my key into the deadbolt to lock it.

  I rush toward my car, which is parked on the street. Hopping in, I slam the door closed behind me and crank the engine. Crystallized breath puffs from my mouth as I wait for the engine to warm up and the back window to defrost.

  “I really need to keep a pair of gloves in the car,” I mumble, thinking of the warm pair I left sitting on a shelf in the closet.

  I cup my hands over my mouth and breathe into them. Glancing into the rear-view mirror, I see horizontal stripes clear of frost, giving me small gaps of visibility.

  “Good enough,” I say to myself, shifting the car into gear and pulling out into the street.

  Cranking up the heater, my body relaxes as warm air fills the space around me. As I approach an intersection, I pu
ll into the right lane and flick my turn signal. I hop on the turnpike and head toward Greenwich.

  I never use the GPS on my phone when I take these little trips into the guys’ hometown. I like to explore, find new places to try and new neighborhoods to explore, familiarizing myself with the place they grew up. As I drive along, I glance left and right, taking in the quaint storefronts. A niggling of a memory scratches at the edge of my mind, causing my brow to wrinkle.

  Then, over on the left, I see it. A large sign with a steaming mug depicted under the words, “Brewtiful Dreamer.” I have been down this road before.

  I pull into the lot and park, but I leave the car running and my seatbelt on. As many times as I’ve taken these “me time” coffee runs since I moved up here, I haven’t come to this place. Not even once. I stare at the entrance to the shop as I consider the reasons behind my avoidance.

  There are two main reasons. Two tall, dark and handsome ones. I shake my head to clear it, turn off the car and unbuckle my seatbelt. Climbing from the car, I take a fortifying breath and close the door behind me.

  I’m being ridiculous. My attraction to the twin baristas who run this place is just that—a silly little physical attraction. Plus, I met them before I entered into the relationship with Silas and Slade, so whatever pull I felt is probably non-existent now. Probably.

  Definitely.

  The bell over the door jingles as I enter, and a deep voice calls out a greeting. The low timbre vibrates down my spine and, in a mild panic, I turn to head right back out the door. That same deep voice stops me in my tracks.

  “Lizzie?”

  I spin in place, my mouth hanging open in shock. I came in here one time, and that was months ago. How does he remember my name?

  “It is you,” he says, bracing his palms on the counter and leaning forward. “Mocha, extra whipped cream. Right?”

  I nod, the action stiff and mechanical as my feet take me closer to the counter. Closer to him.

  “Rafe?” I ask, not sure if it’s him or his twin brother Gabe.

  He grins as he grabs the same unicorn cup he used to serve me the first time I came here. “Good memory,” he says.

  “Me?” I say, pressing a palm into my chest. “What about you? How many customers come in here every day, and you remember my name after more than three months? You even picked the same cup,” I add, motioning toward the porcelain mug.

  “You’re kind of unforgettable,” he murmurs as he slides the steaming latte onto the counter in front of me, a mountain of whipped cream leaning precariously to one side.

  Before I can respond, the door behind him swings open and his twin strolls through, staring intently at a sheet of paper. His eyes lift and scan the length of the shop before skidding to stop on me.

  “Lizzie,” he breathes, then his olive-toned cheeks darken as he clears his throat. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks, Gabe,” I respond.

  As an awkward silence falls between the three of us, I slip onto a wooden barstool and slide the mug of coffee toward me. I study it as the guys remain silently frozen in place. I lift the cup and gingerly take a sip, sighing in pleasure as the chocolatey goodness slides down my throat. Rafe knows how to make a good mocha, that’s for sure.

  I glance up to find him and his brother still staring at me, only this time, they are wearing identical wicked grins.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You, uh, have a little…” Gabe says, pointing at my face before flicking a finger against his own nose.

  I scrub the back of my hand across mine and when I pull it away, there’s a streak of white across my skin. I laugh as Rafe passes me a cloth napkin. I take it and wipe away the whipped cream.

  “Too much whipped cream, I guess,” I say.

  “Yeah,” Rafe says, scrubbing a hand against the back of his neck, “I may have overdone it a bit.”

  He winks at me and I can’t help but smile in return. He’s turning on the charm, big time, unlike the first time I was here. My lips turn down a bit as I remember the encounter.

  After placing my order and taking note of his attractiveness, I saw his eyes and realized he’s an Alt. I was a little shocked, to say the least, and my reaction upset Rafe. He took offense at my response, thinking I was prejudiced against Alts.

  I set him straight, real quick.

  “So, me being a little shocked when I noticed your eyes is reason enough for you be a total asshat?”

  His head jerked back at my words, like he couldn’t believe I called him out on his bad behavior. Maybe he got away with acting however he wanted because people are scared of him. The thought cooled some of the heat coursing through my veins at his impertinence. Maybe he had good reason to be cynical.

  “Sorry,” I said, “that was uncalled for.”

  “No, you were right. I was being an asshat.”

  The memory makes me smile, which seems to be their cue to relax. Gabe comes forward to stand next to his brother, a grin on his face.

  “How long are you in town for, this time?” he asks, letting the paper in his hand drift to the counter.

  “I, uh, actually live here, now,” I say. “I just started classes at UCONN.”

  I start to take a sip of my drink but, remembering the whipped cream, set it back down. Leaning over the mug, I suck the majority if the sugary goodness from the top before leaning back and licking my lips. My breath catches in my throat as I catch the full force of their gazes on me.

  Rafe’s nostrils are flared and an almost silent growl reverberates in Gabe’s throat before he clears it and spins toward the espresso machine, wiping it down with a white rag. I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

  “That’s cool,” Rafe says, continuing our conversation as if nothing happened. “What’s your major?”

  Gabe turns back toward me at his brother’s question. My eyes flick back and forth between them. Interest sparks in their identical, silver-gray eyes.

  I shrug, taking a sip of my latte. “I don’t have one, yet. I’m not really sure what I want to do with my life.”

  “Take your time,” Rafe says, running a hand through his dark hair. “We took over Brewtiful Dreamer when our dad got sick. We never really had a choice. When he died, we kept it going to honor him.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I start, but Rafe cuts me off.

  “It’s okay. It’s been a few years now and we’ve settled into our roles. We like it here. It pays the bills. That’s all that matters.”

  “What about being happy?”

  The words flow from my mouth before I can stop them. I bite my lip, hoping they won’t take offense at my insensitive, nosy question. I don’t know these guys. It’s not my place to question their life choices.

  Gabe picks up the paper he dropped on the counter and waves it in the air. “We might have another option,” he says, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

  “What is it?” Rafe asks, attempting to take the paper from his brother, but Gabe snatches it away at the last second.

  Holding it up in front of him, like some medal of honor, he declares, “The president of the United States wants us to join his youth outreach program.”

  “What?!” Rafe exclaims, snatching the letter from his brother’s hand and reading it silently. “I thought they only accepted teenagers,” he says after he finishes.

  “We’re only twenty,” Gabe replies.

  “This is big,” Rafe says, the wonder evident in his voice. “Huge.”

  Their excitement is palpable, a living, breathing thing that fills the space around them. If I didn’t know what I do, I’d be excited for them.

  But I do know.

  My head is shaking negatively before I can stop it, catching Gabe’s attention. His brows quirk at my reaction and his head tilts slightly to one side.

  “Lizzie, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says.

  “You can’t join.”

  I force the words out past the lump in my throat. My v
oice cracks and I know I sound like a crazy person, but I have to make them understand. I have to explain, but I have no idea how much information to give them. The last thing I want to do is put them in danger.

  More danger than actually joining the president’s farce of a youth program.

  “What do you mean?” Rafe asks. “This is an amazing opportunity. The doors it could open…”

  He trails off, his voice taking on a dreamlike quality. My head starts shaking again of its own volition and I pull out my phone. I shoot off texts to Savanna and Silas, asking them to gather the others and meet me here.

  Maybe, together, we can convince them this is a bad idea. A really bad idea.

  7

  “This is my friend Savanna,” I say, introducing her to the Davila twins as she enters the coffee shop. “And that’s Jett, Wyatt, and Beckett,” I add, pointing them out in turn as they follow her through the door.

  Rafe arches a brow as he greets them with handshakes, no doubt remembering our first conversation. I was defending myself, explaining that my closest friends were Alts, and I grouped them as “my best friend and her three boyfriends.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, but I still don’t understand what’s happening here,” Gabe says as he takes his turn greeting the others.

  I open my mouth to respond, but the sound of bells jingling cuts me off. I turn to see Silas and Slade slipping through the door. As Silas closes the door firmly behind him, Slade’s eyes scan the room until they land on me.

  “Lizzie,” he says, striding forward.

  As he draws near, he opens his arms and folds them around me pressing his lips against my temple. I hug him back before he pulls away, giving Silas room to swoop in and take his own hug. Silas kisses me full on the mouth and, for some reason, I feel my face heat up.

  As the Madsen twins turn to greet the Davilas, I catch Rafe’s surprised expression and Gabe’s confusion. They hide it quickly, and then it’s my turn to be surprised as they speak.

  “Silas, Slade, great to see you again,” Gabe says, smiling as he bumps fists with each of them.