by Jo Raven
“Oooh.” My whole body clenches hard in a vise of pleasure so intense it’s almost pain. I release Riddick’s cock as my pussy contracts, my lungs seize, and my thoughts fizzle off and go out.
Lost inside my body, in the sensations, I ride the waves of my orgasm blind and deaf to anything else.
It feels like years have passed when I blink again, my pussy still clenching, as if trying to hold on to something. Empty. Needing something to fill it.
The image of Riddick’s, or Ryan’s thick cock ramming into me flashes through my mind and I moan. I bet that would feel amazing, much more intense. Much more satisfying.
Especially if it’d feel just as amazing for them.
Which reminds me that Riddick still hasn’t come. He writhes when I suck his cock back into my mouth, and groans when I let my tongue toy with the barbell.
Yeah, like that. This sound, of pure and agonizing pleasure.
The knowledge I am the one making him lose control.
He comes suddenly, a salty-bitter gush against my tongue, and I jerk back, letting it spray my boobs and belly. Panting, I gaze down at the white streaks, then at his softening cock.
“Fuck,” Riddick wheezes, his hands on my hips going slack, his head thumping back on the cushions. “That was…”
“A ten?” I ask sweetly. I feel like laughing, from the sense of accomplishment—making Riddick come so hard he can’t find the words—and from the pleasure still coursing through my body. I feel… heavy and yet light, like I’m floating. A heavy cloud, full of rain, wandering in the sky.
“A ten,” he agrees, and his cock twitches again in my hand, trickling more white fluid.
More cum, Bry. The boys are right. Call the things by their names. Cum. Cock. Fuck. God, I want them to fuck me.
This is insane.
I climb off, turning to see Riddick’s face, grinning when I see his blissed-out expression and lax features. He looks like he’s ready to drop off to sleep.
And Ryan… He’s stopped jerking off, kneeling there gorgeous and still aroused, his cock jutting out between his muscled thighs, his hands propped on the rug behind him. His eyes are closed, his head bowed.
“Hey.” I crawl to him, cup his face in my hands. “I thought you were watching us.”
He blinks, his golden lashes sweeping low, then up. Such pretty eyes. Kind of blank right now, though.
“I’m okay,” he says absently, which is a weird reply.
“Good to know.”
He seems to focus on me finally, and a smile tugs at his mouth. “Not freaking out yet?”
“No.” Strangely enough, I’m not. I love being with them. I love touching them, sharing pleasure with them. I think I might be getting addicted to them.
I poke that thought.
Still not freaking out.
I move between his legs, caress his hard-on, loving the shiver going through him. “Need help with this?”
“You offering?”
I tighten my hold, dragging my hand up, then pulling down. I’m a quick study, what can I say. I’m rewarded by his lips parting, his eyes losing focus again.
“Oh fuck, yeah…” His voice breaks on a moan, his big hand coming to fold over mine, speeding up my movements. “Like that.”
I kiss him as we both work his dick, and the feel of it, so thick and hard in my hand, is doing things to me I never thought possible. My body is responding as if we’re actually really fucking—as if he’s fucking me with his cock—and my pussy is pulsing maddeningly.
Again that feeling of emptiness, of needing to be filled.
I kiss him harder, to silence my thoughts.
His hand is bruising mine, giving his cock long, hard tugs, his mouth going slack against mine. “Holy shit, babe…”
His cock jerks, spilling heat over our joined hands, his release painting over Riddick’s all over my boobs, scorching streams of cum.
I gasp, like earlier shocked at the amount of it, at the sudden burst of all that cum, and the tension in his body as he shoots streak after streak.
He’s finally done and stays bowed over, breathing hard. I lift my other hand to his face, stroke his jaw. There’s a whisper of scruff, and above it, his cheek is smooth and warm.
I like this feeling of giving them what they need, pleasure, a respite from whatever stresses them. Of taking care of them, of these two boys.
Yeah, I like that. Way too much. I like them way too much.
Crap… I can’t even hide it from myself anymore.
***
“You sure you don’t want me to cook for you?” I ask for the tenth time as Ryan competently flips over chicken breasts on the shiny stainless steel kitchen grill and brushes marinade over them.
Very competently.
He’s already chopped salad and has potatoes baking in the oven. I sure didn’t expect that from a guy who clearly has money. A guy who always acted so aloof and probably has his shirts ironed and his apartment cleaned by a service.
And the food is good. Delicious. We sit in the cozy, rustic dining alcove with French windows overlooking the lake, mostly dressed once more, the fire roaring in the fireplace below, and dig into the chicken that’s juicy, the soft potatoes and crispy salad.
God, so not fair. How am I to win a man over through the stomach when he can cook better than I can?
He says he likes fishing and sailing on the lake. He likes rowing. He also apparently likes talking and prodding people into answering his questions, because he gets an otherwise mostly silent Riddick to admit he’s into jogging and a form of martial art I never heard of, and that he likes astronomy. He talks animatedly about a documentary he saw once as a kid about the galaxy and the idea of other worlds and distant planets, how his brother always teased him about it, although he got interested, too, and they’d covered the walls of their bedroom with glow-in-the-dark planets and maps of the universe.
“Is that what your tattoo is about?” I ask. “That constellation. What does it mean?”
“It’s an imaginary solar system,” he says, his eyes bright, “with a sun and a planet like ours, where everything would be… would be good.” He rubs at his face, then lets his hand drop on the table. “Fuck, why am I telling you all this?”
He falls silent again, and I reach for his hand. I tangle our fingers together, and he looks up at me, his gaze distant.
“Maybe I just wanted to escape,” he whispers. “I wanted that so much. And Xavier…that’s what he did. He escaped.”
A chair scrapes against the floor. Ryan walks around the table, dragging his chair along, and plants it next to Riddick.
Then he does the sweetest thing. He slips his arms around Riddick and draws him into a sideways hug. “Your brother will be fine,” he murmurs, and crap, my eyes fill with tears.
“God, you guys…” I hug Riddick, awkwardly, wanting to comfort him so badly.
He draws an uneven breath, pulling me against him, one arm around each of us. He’s pressed between us, and under my arm his chest is heaving like he has trouble breathing.
He’s trying not to cry, I realize, and it makes my eyes burn worse.
I don’t want my boys to be in pain. I wish I could take it away.
And if that’s wrong, I don’t care. Nobody should have to suffer, nobody should be in pain, least of all the two guys worming their way into my heart.
***
We doze on the long sofas of the living room, digesting all that food, and then, as the darkness starts to fall, Ryan decides it’s time to fill up the hot tub.
He goes off to do that, and I stay with Riddick, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades and staring outside the glass doors, at the silver expanse of the lake.
“Have you ever been in a hot tub?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“Me neither. This is a cool place.”
He glances up. “Wasn’t there a storm coming?” he whispers.
“Not yet, I guess.”
“I feel like
it’s here already.”
This boy makes me want to bawl sometimes. I think I love you, I want to say, but don’t. Because that way lies madness.
“If the storm hits, we’ll take shelter,” I say instead. “Together.”
And why does it feel like our discussion has nothing to do with the weather?
Ryan returns, his gaze settling first on me, then Riddick, warm like a caress. “Ready for the greatest outdoors adventure of your lives?”
Riddick snorts, and I love Ryan for that. For making him laugh. And the thought returns, different color, same flavor.
God, I think I love you, Ryan.
“I’ve turned on the lights,” he says, “and the tub is almost full.”
I frown. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”
“Good.” Ryan winks at me and goes away, presumably to check on the tub again.
Naked. I will be naked in the tub with them.
And how is that different from being naked with them here?
“Having fun, Princess?” Riddick asks quietly, turning his head to nuzzle my neck, sending a shudder through me. “Is everything okay?”
So sweet, concerned about me when he’s obviously so worried about his brother.
My heart lurches again with affection and desire and so many things I can’t quite name. The thing is, I feel so much closer to them now, after the intimacy of the afternoon. Like a wall came down between us, baring our souls, bringing them together.
Maybe the way to a woman’s heart passes through her pussy? Like a man’s is supposed to go through the stomach?
Holy crap, Bry.
Sometimes I’m really glad nobody can hear my thoughts.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tipsy Titties Cupcakes
Riddick
Standing at the glass doors, I stare out at the lake and the clouds hovering on the horizon. It looks vast like space, and I rub at the tattoo on my chest over my T-shirt, not sure why I feel so lost. So far the weekend has been going surprisingly smoothly.
Maybe it’s because I’m not used to having time off, quiet time, time to think.
Not sure I like it, all these thoughts crowding my head, my worry for Xavier and Mom, about money and bills, about everything.
I’ve never stopped wanting to escape, I realize. I just gave up.
“You’re still dressed,” Ryan says, and I turn to see him placing a metal grid in front of the fire. He’s looking at me, though, green eyes narrow and gleaming like a cat’s.
“So what’s the plan?” I mutter. “Drop everything and run out screaming, then dive-bomb into the tub?”
He grins. “Something like that.”
I chuckle, wondering if he’s fucking serious.
“There you are,” Brylee says, strolling into the living room, carrying a stack of towels. “So I’m convinced my cat has magical qualities.”
“She just pissed on my foot,” Ryan mutters grimly.
“Exactly.”
I blink at them. What in the holy fuck? “She peed on you?”
“We women must stick together,” Brylee says, smirking.
“Not if you’re stuck to me,” Ryan says in a low, deep voice that has the instant effect of getting me hard.
I look down at the tent forming in my pants, wondering what the protocol is in such cases for hot tub dive-bombing.
And decide I don’t care. About protocols and rules. We’re here. The storm hasn’t reached us yet. I should stop overthinking things and let go.
Ryan seems to have the same idea. He strides over to me and starts pulling on my clothes—like he did in the morning. “Do I need to throw you into the tub?”
“Get over yourself.” But I like his hands on me, his desire to get me naked, the concern in his eyes.
I shouldn’t want his concern. Anyone’s concern.
Jerking away from him, I yank off my T-shirt and drop my pants. His gaze flicks down to my hardening dick, and he groans.
“Don’t move,” he says, and I frown at him.
What, should I pose here, while he goes off to do whatever it is he has in mind?
But he only strides back to where Brylee is standing, looking undecided, and swings her up in his arms. She squeals, dropping the towels, and hangs on to his neck, kicking her legs.
I shake my head, snorting.
“Whoever isn’t naked in five seconds,” Ryan announces, a twinkle in his gaze, “shall be dunked in, clothes, shoes and all.”
“You can’t possibly…” Brylee sputters, then squeals again when Ryan pushes the sliding door open with his foot and steps outside. “You’re nuts!”
“I know. But the good kind.”
“There is no good kind…put me down!”
I follow them out, where the sunken tub is steaming in the cold air. It’s a Jacuzzi, I realize, hot jets making the water ripple.
Storm in a cup.
Ryan puts Brylee down, and she toes off her shoes and pushes down her leggings, mock-glaring at him.
Or maybe plain glaring.
“See, it wasn’t that hard,” Ryan says, smirking as he whips off his own clothes, his T-shirt flying after his pants and last his briefs.
But it is. His dick is rock hard, and my mouth goes dry looking at him.
Then Brylee huffs and pulls off her blouse. She’s braless, and her tits hang bare, her nipples winking at me, hard from the cold. Man, the sight never gets old.
Hard. All hard, all around.
My back has been cramping from the frigid wind, so I climb down the steps into the tub and sink into the warmth with a sigh. The jets are hitting my sore lower back, and it’s all I can do not to moan with relief.
This is…nice. Sitting in the hot water, looking out at the lake.
This place is like something out of a fairytale, and man, I don’t believe in those. So where does that leave me?
Ryan helps Brylee down the steps, and her curves are a welcome distraction from my confused thoughts. The moment she sinks into the water, I draw her to me and she sighs, melting against me. Her mouth parts as she strokes her fingertips over my tattoo, and I kiss her.
Kissing her is easy, like breathing, and just as essential.
We break apart, and I lick her taste off my lips, my hard-on bobbing in the water.
Ryan watches us, rubbing a hand over his chest. He does that often. A nervous tick? He stops when he catches my eye, and lowers himself into the tub with a rueful smile.
“You’re too far,” I say. “Come here.”
He does, scooting closer, ducking under my arm when I lift it. His body presses to mine, so different from Brylee’s, firm and hard, muscles shifting under my hand where it’s splayed on his back.
I’m aroused with their naked bodies pressed to mine, but also drowsy. It’s so peaceful. In this slice of time, everything’s perfect.
Thunder rolls in the distance. A flash of lightning. The clouds sail closer, gray and dark. The surface of the lake heaves as the storm approaches.
Shelter, Brylee said. We take shelter. Together.
For as long as this respite lasts.
***
“Look,” Ryan says, pointing at a faint black V moving across the darkening sky.
Geese.
I watch through lowered lashes as they honk by, through the steam wafting from the surface of the tub water. “Flying must be cool.”
He snorts softly. “You’re half asleep.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” I retort.
“What time is it?” Brylee asks, turning up to see the geese. “Feels like we’ve been out here forever.”
“It’s hot tub o’clock,” Ryan says seriously. “Do you have somewhere else you’d rather be?”
“No,” Brylee says and sighs.
“What about later? What’s the plan?” I ask.
“Does there have to be a plan? I thought we’d just chill.”
“And what, we’ll sit inside and look into the flames?” No idea why I’d mind that, in fact, but
for some reason my heart pounds.
“If you want. Or not. I’ve got some ideas.” Ryan waggles his brows.
“More ideas. Amazing.” Brylee pretends to be in awe.
Or maybe she is. After all, coming here was Ryan’s idea. Hell, the house is his.
But I can’t work up any resentment, not when he looks at me and grins. I duck my head to hide a grin of my own. He’s like an oversized puppy. In a moment his tongue will loll out. So pleased with himself. So happy to please us.
“We should have brought cocktails,” Brylee murmurs, rubbing her cheek on my shoulder. “Watch the storm roll in with those champagne cocktails people have for New Year’s Eve. Pomegranate Mimosas and Raspberry Coolers.”
Really? People do that? Sometimes I wonder if I am already living in a different solar system.
“No champagne. But I have brandy,” Ryan says, sitting up. “I can bring it out.”
“You’ll freeze,” Brylee says, but he’s already standing up and climbing out. “Ryan.”
“I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
He steps inside the house, and there’s a loud meow and the sound of something crashing. Alarmed, I prepare to go after him, but he sticks his head out and laughs.
“I scared the cat. No worries.”
He’s back in a few minutes, with glasses and a bottle of brandy, climbing back into the water.
I’m not a brandy drinker, but it has to be an expensive one because it’s smooth and warm going down my throat.
“You relaxed now, Rid?” Ryan mutters, observing me over the rim of his glass.
“Hm…” The words fail me. Brylee has snuggled back into my side and the combination of her soft body with the alcohol and warmth is making me dizzy with desire.
If he can’t see how hard I am through the clear water with the lights of the tub on, then he’s blind.
“How’s your back?” Brylee asks.
“Good. It’s much better.”
“Your job doesn’t help with that, right?” She lifts her head off my shoulder. “Lifting weights all the time.”
I don’t want to think of my job, not now. I brush my mouth over her forehead. “I’m okay.”
“Hot water is good for that,” Ryan says, and his hand moves down my back, stroking the top of my ass. “Anything warm, really.”